Page 3 of Collateral Love
My hands were cuffed behind me, and the driver took the corner so hard my head hit the window, and stars exploded behind my eyes.
“Relax,” he said softly.
I glared at him through the pain.
“You’re making a mistake.”
He chuckled.
“No, Kenya.”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “The mistake was thinking your family could ruin mine and live happily with the consequences of your choices.”
As the city lights blurred past the window, one thought settled into my bones like cold steel.
This didn’t start tonight. This started years ago, with one decision I thought I made to protect my siblings while at Cherry University, and now the bill had finally come due.
I knewwho Zayden King was the second I saw him.
Not because he was loud.
It was the contrary.
Men who were new to the game moved as if they wanted to be seen; they walked around with their chests out and laughed too loudly. Zayden didn’t have any of that. He stood outside thestudent union like a man who understood the value of stillness as if he could wait out a storm and make you step into it. He stood at six feet five inches with the most beautiful chocolate skin and a full beard. His eyes were hazel, and their glare was just as breathtaking as it was imposing. His cool grey Jordans laced his feet and matched perfectly with his gray Ralph Lauren vest and Levi's Jeans.
Everybody from Crestwood knew the King brothers, but we spoke their names like we were testing the weight of them in our mouths.
Xavier was the younger and quieter one. The one girls swore they could change because he looked like trouble with manners. Danger wrapped in patience.
Zayden was different.
Zayden was the one your mama warned you about without ever saying his name. The one who didn’t need to raise his voice because people listened anyway. The one who made things happen and made sure nobody could trace how.
Seeing him here, an hour outside Crestwood, onmycampus, made something in my chest go tight.
Because men like Zayden didn’t travel for fun, they traveled for a reason.
And reasons always came with bodies, and I enjoyed peace on my campus. I was the big dawg here.
He was posted near the brick wall, cap low, hands in his hoodie pocket like they were warm. But his eyes? His eyes were cold and working. Not scanning like a rookie. Tracking like a man who’d already been hunted.
Two boys approached him; they were the frat type, rich and stupid, the kind that treated danger like a theme party. Zayden didn’t smile at them. Didn’t play friendly. He just watched them long enough for their confidence to start sweating.
The exchange happened quickly.
No lingering. No sloppy counting. No open display. One boy palmed something. Zayden palmed something back. They separated as if they’d never spoken.
Clean.
Too clean for this environment.
That was the problem.
This campus was full of cameras and bored security guards who loved pretending they mattered. Full of kids who didn’t know how to mind their business because they’d never had to.
A man like Zayden could run a whole operation out here; he had the discipline for it, but if he didn’t respect the setting, it would still bite him.
And if it bit him, it would biteme, too. The handful of us Black students on scholarship would be accused of being in on his operation.
