Page 84 of Collateral Love
I yanked slightly. The cuffs didn't budge, but I knew better than to panic. Instead, I rolled my wrist subtly to feel where the pressure gave first.
Once I calmed down and began to count backwards from ten, I realized these cuffs were made of steel. They were cheap and mass-produced. My husband put cuffs like this on me all the time during sex. If I could get them off after I put him in a sex induced coma, I could get these off too.
My cheek throbbed where I’d hit the concrete when they shoved me inside. Blood pooled warm at my temple and then cooled fast, sticky in my hair. I breathed through my nose, slow and even.
Do not rush.
Do not react.
YaYa think, then move.
Zayden’s voice lived in my head like a metronome. Not loud. Not frantic. Just steady.
I hope he was calm and remembered all the times we discussed what we would do if either of us were taken, because if he was panicking right now, everything we built would collapse under the weight of his rage.
They left me alone for exactly four minutes.
I counted in Mississippi minutes.
That told me everything I needed to know.
This wasn’t improvisation. This was scheduled cruelty.
The door rolled up with a metallic scream that vibrated in my teeth. Light flooded the space, harsh and white. I didn’t flinch.
Zayden taught me to never flinch first. Even if these bastards killed me, I would rather go out with dignity than be a weak bitch.
Charles stood there staring at me like he’d rehearsed it in the mirror.
His clothes were clean, and his posture was calm. He had the same smug disposition he used to wear like armor when he was married to my sister. The kind of man who believed composure was morality.
I always fuckin hated that bastard. But I told myself she was safer with a pompous jackass than in Crestwood with the life Zayden and I were building. My husband and I allowed her to believe for decades that Xavier didn’t truly love her and that she was simply a notch on his belt. I thought the Baby Bear couldn’t take this life, so I chose for her, and those consequences were way worse than her loving Xavier King.
Charles never loved my sister, and he was using her for a debt left behind by Xavier and Zayden. He played her and planted his seed in her womb to prove a fucking point. Before this was over, Charles would die by hand. He was gonna have to see me about my Baby Bear.
Behind Charles stood two men and a woman.
The men didn’t matter.
The woman did.
She was younger than me by maybe ten years. She looked like she was in her late twenties, her hair pulled back too tight and her eyes sharp but nervous. She held a taser like she’d practicedwith it, but never used it on someone who mattered. Zay always taught me to pinpoint the weakest link and exploit that.
I memorized her.
I always memorized the women.
They’re the ones who get left behind.
They’re the ones who crack first.
They’re the ones you bend if you’re patient.
Charles smiled.
“Kenya,” he said, as if my name belonged to him.
I didn’t answer.
