Page 162 of When a Soul Cries
Rome caught the door before it slammed.
“Lower your voice.”
“Don’t tell me to lower shit. Where is—”
“Zari.”
His jaw tightened.
He stepped closer and lowered his voice until it was nearly a growl.
“They are **sleeping**.”
That stopped me.
My chest was heaving.
Rome stared at me for another second before his expression softened slightly.
“Come on.”
He motioned toward the kitchen.
I followed him, my arms wrapped tightly around myself.
The kitchen was huge—dark cabinets, a massive island, pendant lights hanging overhead—but I barely noticed any of it.
Rome pulled out a stool.
I didn’t sit.
“Talk.”
He studied me before leaning both palms against the island.
“Like I told you on the phone, shit got bad.”
My hands curled against the edge of the counter.
“How bad?”
Rome’s jaw shifted.
“Bad enough that I wasn’t comfortable leaving her and Halo by themselves.”
My throat tightened.
“And Trice?”
“She came at Sol while she had the baby.”
My head snapped back.
“She did **what?**”
“I stepped in before she could touch her.”
I stared at him.
