Page 18 of I See You

A broken heart.

Chapter 3

(ONE month later)

Hassan walked through the dimly lit basement, his presence swallowing the room whole. Down here, he wasn’t just Hassan. He was Ice. The cold-blooded man everyone feared.

The room reeked of damp concrete and iron—the unmistakable scent of blood lingering from the ghosts of past mistakes made by men who thought they could cross him.

He had been watching.

Weeks of missing money. Small amounts at first, nothing that raised immediate suspicion. But Hassan was too smart, too meticulous to let anything slip past him. So, he waited. He let the thief dig his own grave, knowing that a man who steals will eventually get comfortable—sloppy.

And once they do? They snitch on themselves.

Roman had found the nigga—the corner boy who had been foolish enough to steal from Ice Gaines.

Hassan’s jaw tensed as he moved deeper into the basement, his steps slow, deliberate. He hated thieves. Despised them.

Maybe it was because a thief had stolen his family from him. Or maybe it was because his father had been the same—stealing from powerful men, men he had no business crossing, ultimately leading to his own death. Or maybe, it was just because stealing from him was the fastest way to die.

He paid his people well—too well for them to even think about betraying him.

So why?

Why the fuck did this man feel the need to steal from him?

His men stood silent as he approached, the only sound in the room was the subtle creak of the chair the man was tied to, his breaths coming out in frantic, uneven gasps.

Hassan’s sharp eyes flicked over the terrified man, then he spoke—his voice low, lethal. "Let that nigga go."

His workers hesitated for half a second before quickly untying him, the thick ropes unraveling, dropping to the floor like dead weight.

Hassan didn’t believe in holding his victims hostage. He didn’t need restraints. He liked to give them a fair fight—

Even though there was nothing fair about going up against him.

If a man was bold enough to cross him, he should be bold enough to fight him. And tonight, Hassan was about to remind him exactly why crossing Ice Gaines was a mistake no one lived to make twice.

The man, who looked to be around Hassan’s age, trembled as he rubbed his sore wrists, his breathing uneven.

"Travis."

Hassan greeted him with that slow, devilish smile—the one that sent ice straight through a man’s veins. The kind of smile that meant this was the last time you’d ever see him up close.

"Man, Ice… I was gonna put the money back," Travis stammered, his voice shaking. "I just needed a little extra cash."

Hassan stepped closer, smooth, calculated—predatory.

"I don’t give a fuck why you stole from me," he said, voice calm, measured, deadly. "I just wanna see if that shit was worth dying for."

Withslowprecision,Hassanremovedhisdiamondchains,one by one, handing them off to one of his men. His Rolex came next, the heavy weight leaving his wrist as he kept his eyes locked on Travis— never blinking, never breaking.

Travis watched every movement, his fear growing thick in the room. "Man,Ice,Idon’twannafightyou,cuh,"Travissaid,hisvoice cracking as he took a hesitant step back. Hassan closed the distance instantly.

"Funny," he mused. "You was bold enough to steal from me—" his voice dropped lower, "—but not bold enough to fight for your own life?"

Travis swallowed hard, his entire body trembling under Hassan’s cold, unreadable gaze.

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