Chapter 39
Indigo
Zo didn't respond. She just stared right through me with those dead, glassy eyes.
Daddy answered for her, his voice entirely too calm. “Sit down, Indigo. You're not going to shoot your own flesh and blood.”
I didn't move an inch, the Glock still heavy and steady in my grip.
“I said sit down!” he barked.
Something in the sudden violence of his tone made Zaire step closer behind my chair. I cut a glance back at him, and to my surprise, he gave me a slight smile and a reassuring nod. It was jarring; Zaire and I hadn’t been friendly since we were children—long before Momma died.
I sat down slowly, the Glock still hanging loosely at my side.
Daddy leaned back in his massive leather chair, thick clouds of gray cigar smoke curling through the office air.
“Yuh embarrass me,” he said finally, his Jamaican Patois thick as molasses.
“Three year. Three bloodclaat year yuh disappear, mek chaos everywhere yuh go, an' now look.” He pointed the glowing cherry of the cigar directly at my face.
“Dat white bwoy threaten me because yuh run from him like fool gyal. I know he killed my son too.”
My jaw tightened. I hadn’t really allowed myself to think about Kemar in a very long time. “I don't care about any of that,” I said quietly. “Just tell me why you shot him.”
Daddy barked out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Dat man threaten everybody. Me. Zaire. Business associates.” He waved his hand dismissively, cutting through the smoke. “Running ’bout love, acting like terrorist.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the dark mahogany desk. “But it okay now.”
The chilling certainty in his voice caused a cold dread to crawl straight down my spine.
“That African boy,” Daddy continued, “him waan marry yuh.”
I blinked once, my throat going dry. No. I knew he wasn't about to say what I knew he was about to say.
Daddy nodded his head like this was nothing but good news. “Him got same power like Malachai. Maybe more. But him smarter. More controlled. No threats. No breathing down everybody neck because him wife decide she waan air. You free, gyal.”
I stared at him, the entire room suddenly feeling completely unreal.
“So…” My voice came out flat, stripped of all warmth. “You shoot the husband that you forced me to marry, just so you can marry me off to someone else? What am I to you, Daddy?”
I didn't even feel sad. I didn't feel the grief I probably should have. I just felt numb.
Daddy's expression hardened instantly, his eyes flashing with sudden rage.
“Yuh are a pawn!” he exploded, slamming his open palm against the heavy wood hard enough to make me flinch in my seat.
“Yuh tink dis life is about love? About feelings?” He pointed at me aggressively.
“Everything round yuh exist because men mek hard choices!”
“So I'm just property?”
“You are my daughter!”
“I'm a person!”
“No,” he snapped viciously, his voice dropping into a venomous register. “Yuh are a responsibility.”
Silence slammed into the room like a physical wall. My chest tightened so hard it genuinely hurt to draw a breath.
“You don't control me anymore,” I said quietly, gripping my gun as I prepared to stand. “That ended the second you pushed me off to Malachai. I'm not doing a single thing except going back to that hospital until my husband either wakes up or dies. Then we'll revisit this conversation.”
Daddy laughed. It was a dark, terrible sound.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he reached down and opened the top drawer of his desk. My breath caught in my throat as he pulled out a sleek, black handgun.
Zaire shifted instantly beside me, his posture locking up. “Daddy—”
“I shoulda kill dis rebellion outta yuh long time ago,” Daddy snarled, raising the barrel until it was leveled directly at my chest. “Yuh too emotional. Too much like yuh mada.”
The gun pointed straight at my heart. I froze. My own father was holding a weapon on me. My favorite cousin was the one who had put three bullets into my husband.
The door clicked, and Cooly walked into the study, slipping his hands casually into his pockets. He was fully dressed now, his black designer hoodie pulled up. I wondered briefly where Diamond was, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
Daddy didn't lower the gun.
Cooly looked at the weapon in Daddy's hand, then his gaze slid over to me. That unhinged, confident little smirk never left his face. He tsked softly and shook his head.
“This is why I don't deal with my family anymore,” Cooly said, his voice smooth and conversational. “It's all the same. Treat blood like currency. Trade wives. Trade daughters. Trade lives. All for power. All for control.” He laughed softly under his breath. “No fake love songs. Just transactions.”
He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine.
“I could make you a queen, Midnight. Not a pawn. Not a trophy. A queen. I'd give you New York. I'd give you freedom. I'd give you everything he never could, without the chains. All you have to do is say yes. Marry me. Walk away from this madness.”
“Take him offer, gyal,” Daddy ordered from behind the barrel.
I looked at my father like he was completely insane.
“Look at your options here, Midnight,” Cooly said, gesturing lazily around the mahogany room. “One man has you sitting in a hospital waiting room crying.” His dark eyes narrowed slightly. “Your own daddy has a gun on you because you said no.”
His gaze stayed anchored to mine, intense and unyielding. “I'd never point a gun at you. I'd never punish you just for needing to breathe.”
I stared at him. This was the man who had helped me when I was a ghost. I had genuinely considered him a friend. I didn't even feel a specific type of way about finding him with Diamond minutes ago. But the answer was still the same.
“No,” I said quietly.
Cooly just nodded once, his expression entirely unbothered, like he had expected it all along. “Fair enough.”
Daddy looked absolutely furious. “Boy—”
Cooly lifted a single hand, never taking his eyes off my face. “She doesn't want to,” he said, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “I'm not Malachai.”
Then, without a warning, Cooly leaned down suddenly, grabbed my face gently between his palms, and kissed me. It was completely different from the way Malachai kissed me. There was no violence, no territorial force—it was soft, almost reverent.
My breath caught from pure shock, my body locking up.
He pulled back before I could even find the leverage to push him away. His lips brushed the shell of my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “It was nice while it lasted, Midnight. If you ever need me… call me.”
He straightened up, glancing at Daddy and Zaire casually. “I'll leave you and your son to discuss the rest.”
He let go of my jaw, turned on his heel, and walked straight out of the office without a single look back. The heavy door clicked firmly shut behind him.
Then—
POP.
The sharp, deafening sound of a gun being fired exploded through the small room. My eyes snapped shut as the noise tore through my ears, my mind instantly convincing me that Daddy had actually pulled the trigger on me.
For one agonizing second, I waited for the pain.
Waited for the burning tear of the metal.
The blood.
The cold.
Nothing came.