His voice was calm, but sharp enough to cut.
Von didn’t flinch. He knew what was coming. “I know. Nigga moved faster than expected. He had a rental—lowkey, outta state plates. I was tracking his phone, but he must’ve left it somewhere. Shit ain’t hit my radar ’til he was already inside.”
Hassan didn’t respond right away, just stared at him through the haze of smoke swirling in the room. He knew technically it wasn’t Von’s fault. He was the one who turned off his phone. But Von was supposed to alert him the second Hendrix touched Memphis soil. Judging by the fresh clothes and fake calm that nigga walked in with, he'd been back longer than anyone thought.
“No more slip-ups,” Hassan said, and Von nodded, no excuses, just accountability.
He never talked to Von like he was beneath him—never needed to. They were solid. But right now, with shit piling on from all sides, Hassan needed perfection. No cracks.
Roman exhaled a thick cloud from his blunt, his eyes bouncing between the two of them before speaking.
“This about Hendrix?”
Hassan nodded. “Yeah. Madea called his ass up to the hospice today. Tried to blindside Harper into sittin’ down with him.”
Roman’s jaw tensed slightly as Hassan added, “I was ready to kill that nigga in that room.”
Roman shook his head, knowing how much restraint that must’ve taken. For Hassan to walk away from a man he’s vowed to bury? That was growth—or a temporary pause.
“How Harper doin’ after that shit?” Roman asked, concern evident in his voice.
Hassan inhaled deeply from his blunt, then slowly exhaled, the smoke lingering in the air between them. “She was shakin’. Tight. Hurt,”hesaid,voicelow,likethewordsstillfeltlikevenomonhis tongue.
Roman’s eyes flicked up, surprised. Von stopped mid-inhale.
“I ain't never seen her like that, man. And Madea… Madea need to stop tryin’ to fix what’s been broken too long. That nigga did too much fucked up shit to Harper for her to just sit down and play happy family.”
Roman and Von didn’t know the weight of what Hendrix had really done—the reason Harper couldn’t look at him without shaking, the reason Hassan’s blood boiled at the mere mention of his name. They didn’t know the details, just that it was deep. But Hassan? Hassan knew everything.
At the time, Hassan already lived with Helen for a year. Harper was seventeen. Young, beautiful, still full of hope despite all the hurt she’d carried. She wanted a relationship with the man who made her, and for a second, it looked like she might finally get it.
Hendrix played the part well. Showed up for surprise visits. Took her on daddy-daughter dates. Spoiled her with gifts paid for by dirty money. To someone on the outside, it might’ve looked like he was trying. Like maybe he wanted to be a real father. But the dream Harper thought she was getting turned into a nightmare.
Because Hendrix wasn’t showing up to rebuild. He was showing up to break her.
He drugged her one night and tried to sell her—to one of his clients, just like he used to do with her mother. His own daughter.
If Hassan hadn’t walked into the wrong motel room at the exact right time, Harper would’ve been a victim. He was staking out a target that night, didn’t expect anything except a routine follow-up. But what he walked into was anything but routine.
Harper was half-conscious, slumped on the edge of a dirty bed. A grown man hovered over her, already starting to strip her down.
Hassan didn’t hesitate.
He killed the man without a second thought—no questions, no warning, just his hands and blood. Got Harper out of there before anyone else could show up.
He never forgot the way she looked at him afterward—confused, broken, high and hurting. That night shifted everything. That was the night Harper stopped believing in second chances.
And when Hendrix, drunk and cocky, admitted what he’d done weeks later? When he laughed it off like it was just part of the game?
Hassan nearly killed him right then.
Harper was the only reason he didn’t. She begged him not to. She was too scared, too shaken, and somehow still trying to hold on to the last sliver of control she had left.
That’s whatHelendidn’t know.That’swhat Harperhad beentoo afraid to tell her. And that’s why watching Helen invite him back into their lives was the deepest betrayal of all.
Von clenched his jaw. “You want him handled?”
He hated slipping up. Everything he did was calculated, executed with precision. Mistakes weren’t part of his vocabulary.