Page 1 of Collateral Love
The studioalways smelled like cedar and sweat after the last class.
I stood in the center of the empty floor for a moment, listening to the quiet. The mirrors stretched across the wall, reflecting a woman who looked nothing like the girl I used to be. Back then, everything had been noise. I could hear sirens, arguments, and chaos wrapped in family loyalty. Now there was just music fading out of the speakers and the soft hum of the city outside.
Normal. That word had once sounded impossible. I crossed the floor slowly, scooping up the small pile of glittering hair ties one of the girls had forgotten. Their laughter still seemed to echoin the room. Tiny voices. Twirling feet. Dreams that had nothing to do with survival.
The kind of dreams I wanted for my daughters. Amara and Aniyah were probably asleep by now, a night full of making TikTok dances and sweet popcorn. Zay and I had preserved their innocence the best we could over the years, and I thanked God they weren’t growing up as fast as Zay and I did. I smiled just thinking about them. My twin girls had changed everything.
Cherry University had given me the degree. Systems engineering. Clean math. Order. Logic. The kind of thinking that solved problems before they exploded. For a while, I’d worked exactly the way everyone expected: the office badge, meetings, clean lines of code, and models that predicted outcomes before anyone else could see them.
But none of that had ever made me as happy as watching a group of little girls learn how to spin without falling over. Dance had started as something small. Something I did after Amara and Aniyah were born because motherhood rewires your heart in ways nobody warned you about. Suddenly, every decision you made felt heavier. Every risk felt louder. I wanted them to grow up in a soft world. So I built one. The studio had started as a tiny room with warped floors and a broken sound system. Now it was full every week. Kids learning rhythm. Parents drinking coffee on the benches. A life that looked ordinary enough, nobody asked questions.
For the first time in years, I had convinced myself I was allowed to keep it. I flicked off the last row of lights and walked toward the door, keys already in my hand.
The metal gate rattled as I pulled it down. That was when I heard the footsteps.
A chill slid down my spine. I turned. And the man who stepped out of the shadows made the air leave my lungs.
Charles.
For a second, I just stared at him.
My ex-brother-in-law stood under the flickering streetlight as if he belonged there, hands tucked casually in the pockets of his coat. The same polished calm he wore in the courtroom and at the few family dinners I used to attend before Chanel slowly started cutting me out of her and my niece’s life was stretched across his face.
But tonight there was something colder underneath his arrogant smirk.
“Kenya,” he said.
My grip tightened around my keys.
“Charles.”
Every instinct I had started calculating.
The distance between us. Where the street cameras were mounted. How long would it take someone inside the restaurant across the street to notice a fight? Systems engineering never really leaves your brain.
“What are you doing here?” I asked quietly.
His mouth twitched into a smile that never reached his eyes. “Checking on family.”Family.The word tasted bitter. For years, I had watched my Baby Bear be the perfect spouse to this man.
Chanel had always been too bright for the world. Too hopeful. She loved like a lightning strike—fast, blinding, and impossible to ignore. The way she loved Xavier had been electric, the kind of love that made rooms feel warmer just by existing. But electricity burns. So when life pulled them apart in bullets and prison time, I stayed quiet.
I told myself Chanel would be safer with someone steady. Someone controlled. Someone who looked like the opposite of chaos. A square. A nerd. Someone emotionally distant, maybe, but never cruel. Someone who would never hurt her.
God, I had been wrong. They divorced, and this piece of shit bastard didn’t even check on his child. Genesis was as bright astar as her mother; her name was befitting, she was like gospel, the start of Baby Bear’s world.
Charles stepped closer.
“You look surprised to see me,” he said.
“Why would I be expecting you?” My stomach twisted.
Behind him, a black Yukon rolled slowly down the block and stopped. The back door opened.
Three men with skullies climbed out.
Now my calculations had changed. I assumed Charles found out about Xavier and Chanel’s relationship. Thought he was coming on some typical barbaricrah rahshit to try and reclaim a wife and daughter he neglected, but this wasn’t normal.
Three men.
