Chapter 15
Two Months Later…
“Let me be patient, let me be kind. Make me unselfish, without being blind. Though I may suffer, I’ll envy it not, and endure what comes. ‘Cause he’s all that I got, and I tell him. Tell him I need him. Tell him I love him, and it’ll be alright…”
Lauren Hill’s Tell Him had been on repeat as Promise sat in her living room and completed her seventh journal entry for the day.
She didn’t always get to write this much, but since it was Saturday, she deemed it was a good day to purge her emotions on paper.
It had been a long two months since she’d seen or heard from Monroe, and it hurt so bad; but she held herself accountable because she’d been the one who set him free in the first place.
Her decision had been birthed from a pure place, and she didn’t regret it, she just wished she’d known sooner that she was pregnant.
Even then, she knew deep down that she didn’t want a baby to be the reason Monroe chose her.
She wanted to be chosen because he loved her, and because he didn’t want to live without her.
Two Months.
Sixty Days.
One thousand four hundred eighty-eight hours.
That was a long time for a queen to have no contact or communication with her king.
Yet, somehow Promise had drawn strength from her unborn child.
She’d made a conscious decision to find joy in small moments, peace in silence, and happiness as she prepared for motherhood.
The only selfish thing she’d been guilty of was keeping it to herself.
It felt wrong to share her pregnancy with anyone, and Monroe didn’t know yet.
He needed to know before anyone else, but she was running out of time.
Promise had planned to use the excuse she’d heard other mothers use in times past, and tell her family that she wanted to get through the first trimester before telling anyone.
Even though she was three months when she found out, and she’d only known for one month.
Promise sighed as she reread the last words she’d written in her journal for the twentieth time.
Sometimes the purest love derived from pain and sacrifice.
A bittersweet smile touched her lips because that was the realest thing she'd written all day. Her stomach interrupted her thoughts with a low growl. Promise had been so deep into her own world that she hadn’t realized how fast time flew by.
It was a few minutes after nine, and she’d been craving wood-fired pizza pie from Pasquale Jones.
She’d found this restaurant a few weeks ago when she didn’t feel like cooking, and ended up hooked since then.
I hope I can make it there before they close, she thought as she closed her journal.
In little to no time, Promise was on her way to the elevator, after grabbing her LV bag, key fob, and phone.
“How you doing?” Promise greeted the hotel butler as she stepped off the elevator.
“I’m doing well. How are you?” He returned before stepping onto the general elevator.
“All is well,” Promise said, continuing her walk through the vestibule and to her car.
Unbeknownst to Promise, Monroe had never stopped protecting her.
She was surrounded by certified shooters.
From the moment she pulled away from Central Park Tower, Monroe’s hired security had strategically fallen in line, quietly shadowing her in traffic.
When she moved, they moved. They remained far enough behind to blend into traffic, but close enough to intervene at a moment's notice should danger present itself.
What Promise also wasn't privy to was the fact that Monroe's men weren't the only ones shadowing her every move.
Macie had dispatched gunmen with one assignment—to kill Promise the first opportunity they got.
Like seasoned predators stalking unsuspecting prey, they kept their distance, patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
Neither side realized the other was there, but both were unknowingly headed toward the same destination with vastly different objectives.
Completely oblivious to the silent war unfolding around her, Promise simply wanted to grab dinner and head home.
Pasquale Jones was roughly twenty-five minutes from her place, but she made the drive in twenty minutes after calling her order ahead while en route.
Sliding into a fifteen-minute parking space, she climbed out, locked her doors, and hurried inside to grab her food.
Not once had she realized that every step she took was carefully tracked from a distance.
“A’ye, you see that shit?” Cas asked his mans’, his eyes narrowing as he noticed an unmarked car with two men holding guns pointed towards Pasquale Jones' entrance.
“Hell yea, bruh. Somethin’ off like a mu’fucka,” Stimey said, his burner already in his hand before he finished speaking.
His fingers moved fast as he shot Mike and Windel a text. They were parked a few cars ahead, close enough to respond if things went left.
Aye yo’ we got company dressed in white. Get ready.
917-555-7243: Say less.
Undetected, Mike and Windel got out of the car, ducked low beside a few cars that aligned the curb, and without saying a word, they spread out just enough to give themselves a clear view of Pasquale Jones' front entrance.
Promise stepped outside with a takeout bag dangling from her fingertips, completely oblivious of the danger that had been waiting on her arrival.
Cas' pulse kicked into overdrive the second he saw the unmarked car ease away from the curb. Their faces were covered with black ski masks, the windows were down, and they blasted their guns in her direction.
"Get down!" Cas roared.
Stimey and Cas both rose from the curb, but Cas lunged towards Promise in less than two seconds, covering her from the hollow tips that flew from the distance.
Bow…Bow…Bow…Bow!
Glass exploded, people were hysterical, but Promise froze for the briefest fraction of a second before Cas launched himself toward her, wrapping an arm around her waist and driving her to the pavement with enough force to steal the breath from her lungs.
Bullets flew over their heads, but for Promise everything moved in slow motion.
Her life flashed before her eyes as a stray bullet ripped straight through her thigh.
Bow…Bow…Bow…Bow!
Gunfire erupted from both sides, echoing through the narrow street as parked cars instantly became shields as Windel, Mike, and Stimey continued with the gun war against the mysterious men who were gunning for Promise. Cas never loosened his grip on Promise, using his own body to cover hers.
“Let’s fuckin’ go!” Windel yelled as Stimey and Cas lifted Promise, and carried her to the car as police sirens neared in the distance.
“Yo’, she bleedin’,” Cas announced.
“Get her keys and take her to the hospital. We gotta get the fuck outta here,” Stimey said, surveying their surroundings.
“Here,” Promise cried, handing Cas her key fob, knowing he was sent to protect her.
“Make that call,” Stimey said before running to the car they came in.
Once Promise was secured, Cas hopped in the driver’s seat, skirted off, and called Mitch as soon as they got out of the way.
“Yo’,” Mitch answered his burner, knowing that if he was receiving a call on this line it had to be an emergency.
“She got shot in her thigh, but she’s still alive. I’m on my way to the hospital,” Cas informed Mitch, weaving through traffic, driving like a bat out of hell.
“No!” Mitch snapped. “It’s a fuckin’ set up, don’t take her there! I'm sending you the address to the family safe house now. I’ll meet you there,” he instructed, hanging up.
His mind was already moving three steps ahead, quickly reading through the bullshit, recognizing Macie’s name written all over it.
It was the same scene, different day, and Mitch wasn’t having that shit on his watch.
He shot Cas the address to take Promise to, then called the doctor who was on their payroll.
“Hello, this is Dr. McCall,” he answered, pouring himself a glass of water.
“Asa McCall, it’s been a minute. How you doin’?” Mich greeted, then took a shot.
“Mitch!” Asa chuckled. “What’s happenin’?” he excitedly replied, happy to hear from an old friend.
“I got an emergency. Need you at the safe house,” Mitch revealed, referring to the house that had been set up to treat The Black Families street soldiers with the highest level of care.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Asa confirmed.
“Can you make it there in ten?” Mitch pressed, needing to ensure Promise’s safety before doing anything else.
“I’ll be there,” Asa agreed, concluding the call.
Mitch let out a deep breath, scrolling to Monroe’s contact next.
“What’s good, Unc?” Monroe answered almost immediately.
“Nephew, you need to get yo’ ass on a flight ASAP! Promise has been shot,” Mitch revealed.
“Fuck you mean she’s been shot?!” Monroe snapped.
“You’ll get the full story when you get here. She’s at the safe house receiving concierge medical care,” Mitch gave him a little peace, then disconnected the call.
Something snapped inside of Monroe as he stood with his phone clasped in his grasp.
Macie had fucked around and took it too far.
He had been sleeping on his mother when she’d pulled this same move, but this time he was wide awake, and saw her for who she really was.
Monroe scrolled to G’s contact and hit send.
“What’s good, Roe?” G answered, switching lanes.
“I’m on my way back in town, but I need you to find my mother, and bring her to me,” Monroe cut straight through the small talk. “She ain’t gon’ come willingly, but make sure she's alive,” he instructed.
“I got’chu,” G said, no questions asked.
“Bet,” Monroe stated, disconnecting the call.