Page 126 of Collateral Love
I stepped closer. “Careful.”
“No,” he said. “You should’ve killed me when I still respected you.”
“You’re done moving pieces.”
“And if I don’t stop?” he asked.
I looked at him like Kenya taught me to.
“As long as you’re breathing,” I said, “you’re still useful.”
His face went pale. This dummy thought I would kill him before I got everything I needed from him.
I walked past him and opened the door.
“Xavier will escort you out,” I added. “From now on, every word you say is recorded. Every move you make is logged.”
He turned back once. “Just fuckin kill me.”
“No,” I agreed. “That would let you rest.”
Outside, the city kept pretending nothing had changed.
But the board was cleaner now.
Miles wasn’t the threat anymore.
He was evidence. He would be surveilled 24/7.
And Cameron just lost her favorite knife.
I knewthe moment Zayden stopped asking questions.
That’s how it always started.
Men like him didn’t accuse. They withdrew. They let you keep talking until the silence around your words got heavy enough to crush you.
I’d seen it happen to others.
I just never thought I’d be one of them.
I left his office with my spine straight and my hands steady, but my pulse was loud in my ears. Too loud. I walked past Xavier without meeting his eyes. That was my mistake. I should’ve smiled. Should’ve joked. Should’ve pretended this was just another late night in a long war.
Instead, I went home and poured a drink I didn’t finish.
The apartment felt smaller than it ever had. Every sound made me paranoid. The pipes knocking, a car outside, a neighbor’s TV, all felt like surveillance. I checked my phone twice. No messages or missed calls.
That was worse than Zayden putting a bullet in my head. Waiting for my execution was foul. My gun was gone. My knives were gone, even my long-sleeve dress shirts and dress pants were gone. The King brothers were ruthless, cold-hearted fucks.
Cameron would’ve told me to stay calm. She always did. Said panic was a tell. Said patience was a weapon. Said Zayden and Kenya were predictable once you understood their patterns.
But that night, Cameron didn’t call.
And for the first time since we’d married quietly in a courthouse that smelled like disinfectant and regret, I wondered if I’d ever been more than a tool.
I told myself I hadn’t betrayed them.
Not really.
