16. AMAI #4
“You think I wanted this?” I interrupted, my own anger flaring. “You think I wanted to fall for you? You think I wanted to lose control?”
“Then why did you?”
“Because I couldn’t help it!” The words tore out of me, raw and unfiltered. “Because from the moment I saw you, I knew you were mine. And I don’t give a fuck what the contract says or what my father wants or what Kaisen thinks he’s entitled to. You’re mine, Truth.”
She stared at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m not a possession.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” Her voice dropped to something colder. “Because it sounds like you’re trying to own me.”
The accusation stung because it was true.
I was trying to own her.
I was trying to control her.
Because the alternative—losing her—was unthinkable.
“What about Kaisen?” I asked, my voice low and dangerous.
Her expression shuttered. “What about him?”
“Have you talked to him?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“The fuck it’s not.” I stepped closer, ignoring the pain in my leg. “He knew, Truth. He knew about the baby. He knew about me. And he pursued you anyway. He played you.”
“Stop.”
“He’s going to destroy you. He’s going to find you when you’re broken and put you back together the way he wants. That’s his game. That’s what he does.”
“I said stop!” Her voice cracked, and I saw tears shining in her eyes. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come into my house and tell me who I can talk to or what I should feel. This is my house, Amai. My space. My rules.”
I stared at her, my chest heaving, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
She was right.
This was her house.
Her space.
Her rules.
And I was standing here trying to bend her to my will the same way Winston had just bent me.
“You need to leave,” she said quietly.
“Truth—”
“Leave.” Her voice was firm now, final. “I need time to think. I need space. And I need you to respect that.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her that space was the last thing we needed. That distance would only give Kaisen an opening. That I couldn’t protect her if she pushed me away.
But I didn’t.
Because I could see it in her eyes.
She was done.
For now, at least.
“Alright,” I said finally. “I’ll go.”
I turned and walked out of the nursery, down the hallway, and down the stairs. Each step sent a fresh wave of pain through my leg, but I didn’t slow down. I didn’t look back.
Truth followed me to the door but didn’t say anything as I stepped out onto the porch.
I paused at the threshold and looked back at her. “If you need anything—anything at all—you call me. You hear me?”
“I hear you.”
“I mean it, Truth. Day or night. I don’t care what it is. You call me.”
She nodded, her expression unreadable.
I wanted to kiss her. Wanted to pull her into my arms and remind her that she was mine. That we belonged to each other.
But I didn’t.
Because she’d asked me to leave.
And for once, I was going to respect her boundaries.
Even if it killed me.
I limped down the walkway to my car, my leg screaming with every step. I slid into the driver’s seat and sat there for a moment, my hands gripping the steering wheel, my mind racing.
Truth was slipping through my fingers.
I started the car and pulled away from the curb, watching her house disappear in the rearview mirror.
I didn’t drive back to the Garden District.
I didn’t go back to Yahmaria.
Instead, I drove to the 9th Ward. A place where I could exist without the weight of the Landry name pressing down on me.
I parked in the narrow driveway and limped inside, locking the door behind me.
The house was dark and quiet. I didn’t bother turning on the lights. I just walked through the living room to the back bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, fully clothed.
My leg throbbed.
My chest ached.
And my mind wouldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Truth.
This is all your fault.
She was right.
I’d pursued her. I’d inserted myself into her life. I’d made her a target.
And now I was paying the price.
But so was she.
And so was Priest.
I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen, willing a message to appear. Some sign that Priest was okay. That Winston hadn’t hurt him.
But there was nothing.
Just silence.
I thought about calling Winston. Demanding to know where Priest was. Threatening him the way he’d threatened me.
But I knew it wouldn’t work.
Because Winston held all the cards.
And he had just proven—with a bullet—that he was willing to use violence to keep me in line.
I was trapped.
Trapped between my father’s control and my obsession with Truth.
Trapped between the man I’d been raised to be and the man I wanted to become.
Trapped between duty and desire.
And I didn’t know how to escape.
I closed my eyes and let the exhaustion wash over me.
Tomorrow, I’d figure it out.
Tomorrow, I’d find a way to get Priest back.
Tomorrow, I’d prove to Truth that I wasn’t like the rest of my family.
But tonight—tonight I was just a man lying in the dark, bleeding and broken, wondering how the fuck I’d gotten here.
Wondering if love was supposed to feel this much like drowning.
Wondering if I’d ever find a way to breathe again.