Page 49 of Claimed By A Blue Eyed Menace

H o u r s l a t e r , Iwoke up to an empty penthouse and a hollow feeling in my chest. I wasn’t used to waking up without Shooter anymore. I stretched out on the bed, inhaling deeply. His scent still lingered on the sheets, but it wasn’t the same. Sighing, I sat up and rubbed my face. My stomach let out a loud growl, reminding me I hadn’t eaten all day.

After a quick shower, I slipped into a pair of soft, high-waisted lounge shorts and a cropped hoodie, keeping it cute and comfy. My hair was piled into a messy bun, and I swiped on some lip gloss because even if I was just lounging, I liked to look good.

Padding barefoot into the kitchen, I opened the fridge, grabbed what I needed, and then went to open the front door. “Y’all hungry?” I asked Marcus and Dru, the security guards.

Both men exchanged looks before Dru cleared his throat. “You cookin’?”

“Yeah.” I arched a brow. “Y’all eat, right?”

Marcus looked nervous as hell but nodded. “Yeah, we eat.

“Cool.”

I got to work, moving around the kitchen with ease. I missed having my hands busy, missed the normalcy of doing something as simple as cooking. As the food sizzled on the stove, I picked up my phone, hesitating for a second before dialing Mecca. She picked up on the second ring.

“Look who finally decided to call. You know, I was thinkin’ about blockin’ your ass after what happened.”

I sighed, already smiling. “Mecca, I’m sorry—”

“You should be, bitch. I almost got my wig snatched off and my damn door—”

“Is already replaced.”

She paused. “How you know that?”

“Because I know Shooter,” I muttered, flipping the food in the pan. “I figured he’d handle it.”

Mecca sighed dramatically. “Well, yeah, it’s fixed. And some nigga dropped off a fat ass envelope. I ain’t ask no questions, but that shit was heavy. So, I ain’t even mad no more.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I bet you ain’t.”

“You damn right.” She sucked her teeth. “I still can’t believe that shit, though. Your crazy ass husband really sent the goon squad in my house like I was harborin’ a fugitive.”

I rolled my eyes. “Mecca.”

“Nah, for real! They bust in like the damn FBI! And I had on my cute pajamas too, had me out here lookin’ crazy in front of these niggas.”

I snorted, biting back another laugh. “You are so dramatic.”

“And you are so whipped,” she shot back. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

I sighed, stirring the food. “I don’t even know what I am at this point.”

“Girl, please.” She scoffed. “I know exactly what you are. A married woman. So just accept it and stop playin’.”

I didn’t respond right away because the truth was… she wasn’t wrong.

Shooter

T h e i n t e r i o r o fthe Maybach was thick with the scent of burning weed and the low hum of music vibrating through the speakers. I exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl and disappear as I kept my grip steady on the wheel, eyes locked on the dark, empty road ahead.

Ren, sitting in the passenger seat, flicked ash from the blunt and glanced over at me. “So, you really think you know who dropped off that USB?”

My jaw flexed. “Iknowwho it was.”

Ren studied me for a second before nodding, passing me the blunt. I took a slow drag, letting the smoke settle deep in my chest before blowing it out in a controlled stream. “And you think he did it just to fuck with you?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Nah. He did it ‘cause he thought it was the right thing to do.”

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