Page 148 of I See You

“I’dsaygoodseeingyouagain,Braxton,butthatwouldbea lie,” Norman said, calm but lethal as he stepped further inside. “Conversation’s over. My client was told this was an informal visit. The minute you brought up an open murder case, you crossed a line.”

Roman and Hassan stood as one, both in sync without a word. “Killhisbitchass,Hassan,”ten-year-oldHassangrowledfrom across the room, voice low but vibrating in Hassan’s mind. Hassan looked again, and like before, Roman clocked the way he zoned out— but didn’t say anything. Not yet.

Braxton stood now too, his frustration bubbling into desperation. “You think hiding behind lawyers will stop what’s coming?”

Norman stepped forward, not flinching. “I think you should leave. Now. Before this becomes a civil rights issue.”

Braxton didn’t move at first, his glare glued to Hassan like he was still hoping to get under his skin. But Hassan wasn’t looking at him— he was looking straight through him, past the man, to the bloodied children sitting quietly behind him like death waiting for an invitation.

Braxton finally turned to leave, Kevin trailing behind, silent. Just before stepping out, Braxton threw one last glare back at Hassan.

Thistime,Hassansmirked.Notsoft.Notamused.Itwassharp. Deadly. Cold enough to drop the room a few degrees.

Once Braxton and Kevin left, Norman turned to both Roman and Hassan, eyes sharp. “Why the fuck did I just find out about this last night? Jules had to be the one to tell me what’s going on.” His voice was steady, but his tone was hard. Hassan didn’t respond. He wasn’t even fully there. His focus was locked on the bloodied versions of himself still seated across the room.

“This nigga so fucking weak,” ten-year-old Hassan spat, voice full of venom. “Ma looking down shaking her head at this soft-ass shit.”

“She didn’t raise no bitch,” six-year-old Hassan added, voice even colder. “Yet he became one.”

They shook their heads in unison, the disgust in their eyes slicing deeper than any enemy ever could. Hassan’s blood boiled. His jaw clenched. But he still didn’t speak. Roman noticed. He clocked the distant look in his brother’s eyes, the way his hands had started trembling.

“Hassan, you good?” Roman asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. The touch snapped him out of the fog, at least enough to groundhim.Normanlookedon,confusedbutquiet,sensingsomethingwas off but not knowing what it was.

“Yeah,” Hassan said quickly, brushing it off. “Look—yo ass know now. We need to be ahead of these niggas.”

Norman didn’t press. “Jules told me everything. I can get you out of the Desmond case, get the laws off your back. But Carlos? I can’t help there. You know I don’t get my hands dirty.”

Hassan nodded. Norman was the best for a reason—he played the game sharp and clean, and never left a trail.

“I know. Just get Braxton off our backs. We’ll handle Carlos.” Normannodded,thengaveatightgoodbyeandwalkedout, leaving just Roman, Hassan, and his demons behind. The silence wasn’t peaceful—it was heavy, filled with judgment that only Hassan could hear.

“You do that favor for Jules?” Hassan asked, trying to shift theenergy.

“Yeah, we in the works now,” Roman replied, but his eyes stayed locked on Hassan. He wasn’t fooled. Something wasn’t right.

“This nigga scared,” six-year-old Hassan said again, voice laced with disappointment.

Hassan turned his head sharply toward the hallucination. Roman caught it.

“You good, San?” he asked again, more serious this time.

“Yeah,”Hassanmuttered,butitwasdry,emotionless,likehis mind was already somewhere else.

“Nigga,youkeptlookingofftospaceduringthatwholemeeting. And—”

“I said I’m good!” Hassan snapped, his tone sharp, cutting through the room like a blade before he stormed out.

He was tired of being watched, talked to like he was losing control, like he was weak. Only one person didn’t look at him that way. Only one person made him feel like he wasn’t drowning.

But he couldn’t pull up to Sevyn’s spot at five in the morning, not after the night they had.

So he drove home.

The city passed in a blur, but in the backseat, his demons came with him—silent, bloodied, and whispering louder than ever.

???

Sevyn sat in her office, replaying last night over and over in her head. No matter how good Hassan made her feel—how deep he fucked her, how he held her when she broke down in his arms—she couldn’t shake the anger sitting heavy in her chest. Waking up to an empty bed with no note, no text, no call, not even a simple “I’ll hit you later,” made her feel like just another pussy he conquered and left. That shit had her blood boiling.

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