Page 56 of River & Crown
"Fika," Killian spoke evenly. "They don't appreciate being referred to asdogs. As you can see, Ghost and Grim are so much more."
"Oh yeah? Other than mutts, what are they?"
The officer standing toe to toe with Killian laughed, his fingers drumming against the leather that concealed his weapon. This expired-milk-looking muthafucka was itching to shoot. His brothers in blue didn't seem to be on the same accord. Killian took a slow step forward, bringing himself chest-to-chestwith the officer. Had the cop been smart, he might've caught on to the way Killian stared at him like he was already a corpse.
"Morde y tranka," he murmured the command. Grim lunged first. His jaws clamped down on the officer's ankle.
"Fuck," I groaned, hearing the twisted crunch of Grim's teeth sinking into this man's bones. The officer's smug expression morphed into a scream as he dropped, scrambling and clawing at the floor. Blood poured from his wound, and Killian, swiped some onto his finger and brought it to Ghost. Ghost sniffed, becoming acquainted with the metallic scent.
"Call them mutts again," Killian challenged, crouching beside the officer. His voice was calm, almost like the nigga was bored. "Officer, do you understand why yourbrothersare doing nothing as Grim tears your ankle from your shin? Don't worry, it's rhetorical. They know who the fuck I am. More importantly, they know Grim and Ghost. Most people fear me because of my reputation, but it's them... my best friends, that muthafuckas need to be afraid of. Now, I lead with forgiveness, but I can't say the same for my best friends. Let's see how Ghost feels about being called a mutt."
Ghost took one step forward, ears pricked and waiting for his taste of blood.
"Morde y tranka."
It was now Ghost's turn. The officer sobbed, panic overtaking whatever pride he came in with. Killian stood watching as hisbest friendstore ruthlessly into the officer's limbs.
"I'ma go see about River. You good?" I asked just to be polite. It was clear Killian didn't need my help with any of this shit.
"Go. I'll be up soon."
I nodded before hopping on one of the elevators, jamming my finger into the fourth-floor button. The irony of Four being on the fourth floor was too loud for me to ignore. Shit like this was what my moms used to preach.
"Remember, coincidences aren't real. When your heart, mind, and soul are in true alignment, you'll look back and realize those moments were never random. It was a divine setup, a hidden message unfolding in perfect timing."
Shadae was a woman of her word, and all she's taught me has proven true in one way or another.
The doors of the elevator barely opened before I rushed off. I jogged down the hall, passing another nurse's desk, and ignored her, yelling for me to stop. I read the names written on the whiteboards outside every door I passed but stopped once I got to room 404.
"4-4-4," I huffed, shaking my head. "Should've known."
Whatever message the universe was sending me, I wasn't understanding. Shit was aligning, but nothing was divine about my wife lying in a hospital bed.
Ask questions and listen before going the fuck off.
Twisting the doorknob, I pushed the door open in hopes of listening to my own advice. Honey was the first to look in my direction. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her cheeks were ashy. Not saying a word, I barely acknowledged her. My focus went where it belonged... on Four. She laid in the bed with a bandage wrapped around her head and a couple of IVs in her arm. She was sleeping. The monitor on the machine next to her bed showed she was at peace, but I needed to hear that shit from her.
"Four," I voiced, inching closer to the bed.
"Let her rest." Honey came and stood in the small space that separated me from Four.
I chuckled lowly. A nigga was really going to end up on a news clip. I didn't wanna hear shit about Four needing rest. For my own sanity, I needed to look into her eyes as she told me she was good.
"I don't mean it like that, Crown. Relax. River fell asleep not too long ago, and the doctor said she needs her rest."
"The fuck happened?" my voice trembled, keeping my need to wreak havoc at bay.
"She was racing, and then I'm not sure what happened. She spun out and crashed into a guardrail," Honey explained.
"Wrong answer." I shook violently. The chances of River crashing were equivalent to seeing a fucking pig fly. It was never gonna happen.
"What do you mean, wrong answer? This isn't a pop quiz," Honey smacked. Her nostrils flared. She was pissed, but so the fuck was I.
"This is a muthafuckin' pop quiz. A quiz that has one muthafuckin' answer," I snarled, closing the space between Honey and me.
"I'ma ask again, but this time, we're raising the stakes."
My gun came out. My fingers gripped the handle, but it rested against my leg, and the safety was on. I didn't have to aim. Honey knew what was up.
