Page 8 of Claimed By A Blue Eyed Menace

She sipped her cappuccino, completely unfazed. “Am I?”

“Yeah,” I said, voice low, amused, but laced with warning. “You wanna see how far you can push me. You wanna see if you can get a rise out of me.”

She tilted her head, faux innocence dripping from her voice. “And am I succeeding?”

My jaw ticked. For a split second, I could feel it—the urge to shatter that calm, collected demeanor of hers. To grab her by that delicate throat and make her feel the weight of the world she just got trapped in. Something must have flickered across my face because for the briefest moment, she went still.

Her fingers tensed around her cup. Her breath caught. Fear flashed in her eyes. I let the moment stretch, let her feel it. Then, just as quickly as the moment came, I reined it in.

I relaxed, rolling my shoulders back, forcing the smirk to return. “Nice try, baby. But you’re not ready to meet the monster yet.”

She exhaled slowly, blinking a few times before masking the fear with defiance again. “Maybe the monster isn’t as scary as you think,” she challenged, though her voice wasn’t as steady as before.

I chuckled, tossing my napkin onto the table. “Or maybe you should pray you never find out.” She swallowed, looking away. I picked up my cup, taking a slow sip, letting her sit with that.

I d r o v e i nsilence for a minute, my hand gripping the steering wheel like it owed me money. Parker sat to my right, arms folded, legs crossed, that dress still hugging her curves perfectly. Her mouth had been slick all through brunch, and if we wasn’t in front of people, I’d have reminded her who the fuck was running shit but I let her be.

“Listen, I’m not one of your little soldiers, Sebastian,” she snapped finally, breaking the silence. “The barking of orders? That needs to stop.”

I smirked. “Ain’t nobody barkin’, Parker. But you better learn the difference between my tone and your options.”

She rolled her eyes, turning toward the window. “You got serious issues.”

I was about to say something slick when my phone lit up on the dash. The name flashing made my jaw tighten. It was Ren, my right hand. I picked up on speaker. “Yo.”

His voice came through urgently. “There’s a situation. That barber—Dewayne? The one we paid to keep quiet? He went on a fuckin’ podcast. Started runnin’ his mouth about what he seen at the warehouse last month. Ain’t say names, but it’s too close.”

Parker’s head turned slowly. I could feel her watching me. I inhaled through my nose. “Where he at now?”

“The shop far as I know. Want me to—”

“Nah,” I cut him off. “I got it. Text me the addy.” The call ended. My hand stayed locked on the wheel, vision narrowed as the anger set in. I didn’t speak. Just made a hard right turn, tires screeching against the asphalt.

“Where are we going?” Parker asked, her voice low but cautious.

“Handle somethin’,” I said, my tone flat.

“What kind of something?”

I didn’t answer. Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up to a run-down barbershop tucked behind a liquor store in the Southside. I killed the engine. “Don’t get out this car for shit,” I told her.

Parker gave me a look. “What are you about to do?”

Ignoring her, I got out of the car and walked inside like I owned the block. The bell above the door dinged, and Dewayne looked up from the chair, clippers in hand, eyes wide.

“Shooter. Yo, I ain’t mean—” I raised the Glock and popped his ass in the chest twice. He screamed and let out ragged breaths.. “No, no, no. I ain’t say your name. I swear—”

I didn’t give a fuck. “You went on a podcast, my nigga,” I said, stepping closer, pressing the muzzle against his lips. “Talked about shit you ain't built to speak on.”

“I… was drunk. I was—”

Dewayne’s brains splattered the mirror as I let off another shot to his dome. His body dropped like dead weight, shaking the floor. Blood pooled under him instantly, hot and steaming. I didn’t blink. Just exhaled slowly as I turned and walked out of the barbershop.

I wiped the barrel of the gun clean with a cloth from my pocket as I trekked back to the car. Parker’s eyes locked on me through the windshield. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I turned to her. She was pale, lips parted, and her whole body was pressed up against the passenger door like she was trying to create space between us that didn’t exist.

“Did… did you just… kill—”

“You don’t get to feel sorry for him. He chose his fate.” She stared at me, eyes filled with something between fear and confusion as I drove off. I kept my eyes on the road and lit a blunt. All that shit she was just talking at the restaurant. Parker wasn’t ready for a nigga like me but she would be. Eventually.

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