Page 171 of I See You

Harper didn’t flinch. His tone might’ve been softer, but she knew what lived behind that voice. She’d heard it the night he told her how much her purity could bring in. She’d felt it when her limbs went numb from whatever he put in her drink. She’d seen it in his eyes when he dragged her body out like product.

So no, she didn’t believe him.

“Why?” Her voice cracked—not with weakness, but rage. “Why’d you do it? Why your own daughter?”

She thought her voice might shake, that the pain might choke her up. But it didn’t. She wasn’t broken anymore. Not crying. Not begging. Just a woman sitting across from the devil, demanding answers.

“I was strung out on drugs,” Hendrix finally said, voice cracking like he wanted sympathy. “Owed a lot of people—powerful people— money. And I was gonna get killed if I didn’t do what I did.”

Harper stared at him, expression cold, empty. Like he was just another stain on her memory she was ready to wash clean.

Then she chuckled. It was low. Cold. And sharper than any blade. She took another slow sip of wine, then tilted her head at him. “So instead of dying by the same demons you chose to dance with... likeaman...youservedyourowndaughteruponasilverfuckingplatter to save yourself?"

Her voice didn’t tremble. It cut.

“You tried to use me. Just like you used my mama. Like we was nothing but bargaining chips to keep your sorry ass breathing. You was gonna let me get raped, drugged, sold to whoever had the highest fucking bid. And you would’ve slept like a baby. Wouldn’t’ve blinked. Wouldn’t’ve felt a damn thing.”

Her voice rose, shaking the room now. “You a sick-ass bitch!” That hit something. She saw it. Hisfacetwisted.Thesoftnesswasgone.Theguilt?Disappeared.

His eyes turned black.

“You just like your fucking mother,” he snapped, voice rising. “Ungrateful. She wouldn’t have had shit without me. You either. You think Madea paid for all that expensive shit you used to flaunt? That was me, sending money every damn week. You owed me that lick. And if your fuck-ass cousin didn’t step in, I wouldn’t be lookin’ over my shoulder every day.”

And there he was. The real Hendrix. The devil behind the disguise. Harper smiled, slow and knowing. He finally said what she needed to hear.

“I owed you?” she repeated with a soft laugh, standing now, wine still in hand. “You know what... you’re right. I owe you.”

He tracked her every move, but he didn’t see it coming. “I owe you a fucking seat in hell.”

The gun came up so fast, he didn’t have time to breathe. Two shots. One to the head. One to the chest. He dropped like dead weight—no last words, no gasps, no second chances. Harper stared down at the blood spreading across the floor like spilled wine. Calm washed over her like warm sunlight. The storm inside her—the rage, the pain, the shame—finally quieted. Her hand didn’t shake. Her heart didn’t race. It just... settled.

She took her seat, reached for her wine, and took a sip with a small smile.For the first time in her life, Harper felt weightless. And free.

Minutes later, Hassan emerged from the back room with Roman and Von. Hendrix’s lifeless body was now wrapped in thick black trash bags, taped and sealed like evidence in a case that would never be solved. Hassan had people who could’ve handled this—but not this one. This wasn’t some street beef. This was Harper. His cousin. His sister. He had to make sure this stayed buried—literally and figuratively. So he called in the only two men he trusted to keep it tight: Roman and Von.

Theymovedlikeaseasonedcleanupcrew.Precise.Efficient. Focused. No talking. Just action.

Hassan knew Braxton and the feds were still trailing him, but Von had already rerouted their eyes. As far as surveillance was concerned, Hassan spent the night working late at his casino. No traces. No ties. Hassan and Roman loaded the body into the back of the truck totake to the burn site, Von stayed behind to do what he did best—wipe everything.Camerasaroundtheproperty,trafficlightfeeds,street camstrackingHarperandHendrix—gone.Likethisnightnever happened.

"Roman, take Harper to Sevyn’s crib. That’s her alibi if shit ever hits the fan." Hassan’s voice was all command. No room for debate. Roman nodded and Harper grabbed her purse without a word.

Hassan pulled her in, hugging her tight. Her body didn’t shake. Her face didn’t crack. She just stood there like a soldier fresh off the battlefield.

"Sevyn really made you soft," Harper mumbled against his chest, but Hassan didn’t respond. He just held her tighter because she was right.

"Thank you, San," she added, pulling away. Their eyes locked for a second too long—hers with silent gratitude, his with a mix of worry and pride.

"Von, start wiping shit," Hassan called out as he turned away. "Already on it," Von replied, fingers flying across the keyboard of his laptop, cords and devices spread across the kitchen counter like a mobile command center.

Harper paused, her eyes drifting to the tall, inked-up man with long locs and a quiet intensity that pulled her in.

"I’ve never seen you before," she said, watching him work. "What’s your name?"

Von didn’t look up. "Von."

She smirked, intrigued. "Yeah, I heard what he called you. What did your mama name you?"

ThatmadeVonglanceup.Asmallchuckleescapedhislips. "Avoni."

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