AMAI #2
Kaisen’s security detail.
The line rang twice before someone picked up.
“Yeah?”
“Your boy’s bleeding out on Mimosa Ct,” I said, my tone flat and businesslike. “Brick house, two-story, middle of the block. Get medical to him before he dies.”
“Who is this—”
I ended the call and pocketed the phone.
Truth was watching me, her face unreadable.
“They’ll be here in five minutes,” I said. “He’ll live.”
“You shot him,” she said quietly. “You shot your own brother.”
“Yeah.” I didn’t look away. “And I’d do it again.”
The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.
I knew what this meant.
I knew this deepened the war between me and Kaisen in ways that couldn’t be undone.
I knew Winston would find out and lose his shit.
I knew Rahsaan would hear about it and use it as proof that the Landry family was fracturing from the inside.
I knew all of it.
And I didn’t care.
Because Truth was a non-negotiable in my life.
And anyone who threatened that—anyone who tried to take her, manipulate her, or hurt her—would pay.
Even if it was my own blood.
“You need to go inside,” I said, my voice softer now. “Before his people get here.”
Truth looked down at Kaisen, then back at me.
“This isn’t over,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
She stood slowly, her hands still stained with blood, and walked past me into the house.
The door closed behind her.
I stood on the porch, looking down at Kaisen’s unconscious body, and felt nothing.
No regret.
No guilt.
Just certainty.
In the distance, I heard sirens.
I turned and walked back to my car, my hands steady, my mind clear.
This was who I was.
This was what I did.
And Truth was going to have to decide if she could live with that.
It was best I gave her time to think. I needed to see how she handled this. Actually seeing me in action. That taking a life is like breathing to me when it came to her or our babies.
This was her new reality.
I slid into the driver’s seat and pulled the door shut, the leather hot against my back. My hands rested on the steering wheel, and I stared through the windshield at the brick house—at the closed door, at the life I was trying to build inside those walls.
I got in my car and reached for the ignition.
My phone rang.
The sound cut through the silence, sharp and immediate. I glanced at the screen.
Truth.
I answered on the second ring, bringing the phone to my ear.
“Yeah?”
“Where are you going?”
Her voice was sharp. But underneath it, I heard the tremor—the fear she was trying to bury beneath anger.
“I’m giving you time to process,” I said quietly. “Giving you space.”
“Space.” She repeated the word like it tasted bitter. “You think shooting Kaisen and then leaving is giving me space?”
“Bae.”
“We are not handling our problems like this.” Her voice cut through mine, firm and unyielding. “Get your ass back to the house. Now.”
The line went dead.
I sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in my hand.
She’d hung up on me.
Told me what to do.
And I was going to do it.
I exhaled slowly, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.
That’s what she did to me.
She called, and I came.
She demanded, and I obeyed.
Not because I was weak. Not because she controlled me.
But because when it came to her, I chose to bend.
The sirens were louder now—close enough that I could see the flashing lights reflecting off the neighboring houses.
I moved my car in front of Truth’s house and cut the engine.
Two men were already on the porch, crouched over Kaisen’s body. His security team. One of them had a medical kit open, checking vitals. The other was on the phone, his voice low and urgent.
They both looked up when I stepped out of the Bentley.
Their eyes went wide.
Recognition. Fear. Calculation.
But neither of them said a word.
They knew better.
I walked up the steps slowly, deliberately, my gaze fixed on the front door.
Kaisen was still on the ground between me and the entrance, his face pale, his breathing shallow but steady. Blood had pooled beneath him, dark and slick against the wood.
I stepped right over him.
Didn’t look down. Didn’t pause.
He was just an obstacle. Something in my way.
I reached the door, turned the handle, and stepped inside.
The door closed behind me with a soft click, muffling the sounds of the sirens and the frantic voices outside.
Inside, the house was quiet.
I moved through the small entryway, past the living room where the TV was still playing Girlfriends, and toward the back of the house.
I found her in the downstairs bathroom.
The door was open, and she stood at the sink, her hands under the running water. She was scrubbing—hard, obsessive, like she could wash away what had just happened if she just tried hard enough.
The water ran pink.
Her hands were still stained with Kaisen’s blood.
I leaned against the doorframe with my arms crossed and watched her.
She didn’t look up.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked quietly. “So we hang up on each other now?”
Her hands stilled under the water. She glanced up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, her face tight with exhaustion and fear.
“What do you mean ‘what was that’?” Her voice cracked. “YOU shot your brother.”
“Was he being disrespectful?”
She stared at me, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn’t find the words.
Then, she turned back to the sink and kept scrubbing.
I pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the small bathroom, the space shrinking around us.
“I know my brother in ways you never will. I know what he’s capable of. What he’s willing to do. I have my reasons for doing things the way I do.”
She didn’t respond.
I moved closer, close enough that I could see the way her shoulders trembled, the way her breath hitched every few seconds.
“Are we good?” I asked.
Truth shook her head slowly, her hands still under the water, still scrubbing even though the blood was long gone.
“I can’t be having this shit going on around me while I’m pregnant, Amai.” Her voice was tired. Scared. “This stress isn’t good for me or the babies.”
“You’re right,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
She looked up at me, surprised.