born into a legacy he never asked for-his father, a feared and respected figure, and his mother, ever protective. As Kyree struggles to find his own path, he's torn between family expectations, old secrets, and the weight of the streets. With love b...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You hungry, Niya?" I knocked on her door before just letting myself in. She was sitting on the floor, tapping away on her iPad like always. She barely looked up when I walked in.
"Veah!" she said, finally smiling and running over to hug me.
I had just gotten back from the party. I decided to leave after Kyree beat that boy nearly to death. It was already late, around 10 at night.
"I said, are you hungry, Niya?" I asked, pushing her off me.
She smacked her lips, showing off her missing teeth. "You smell like weed anyway," she said with a shrug, walking back to her iPad like I wasn't even there.
I raised an eyebrow at her. Niya had a smart mouth for a 7-year-old, and honestly, I didn't even know how she recognized the smell of weed.
"You need to stop talking like that before I tell Mama," I warned, but we both knew I wasn't going to snitch. She just rolled her eyes and focused on her screen.
I sighed, pulling off my jacket and tossing it on the couch. The smell of weed clung to me, and I didn't know if it was from being around everybody at the party or from Kyree and his boys. Either way, I couldn't have Mama coming home and asking questions.
"I ain't playing, Niya. You want me to make you something to eat or not?"
She finally looked up, giving me that typical Niya side-eye. "Pizza rolls," she said, like it was the only option that made sense.
I headed to the kitchen, but my mind was still stuck at the party. Watching Kyree go off like that—it wasn't just some regular fight. He was out for blood. It was like something snapped in him. I knew from the moment I met him that he was different, but tonight? That was on a whole other level.
Niya was back to her iPad, completely oblivious to the way my stomach was twisted in knots.
I couldn't shake the memory of Kyree's fists pounding into that guy's face. The way his knuckles were dripping with blood, how the crowd had pulled out their phones and started recording like it was nothing. What was Kyree even thinking after that? How do you walk away from something like that?
I opened the freezer, my stomach sinking when I saw it was nearly empty. Some ice, a half-eaten bag of fries, and definitely no pizza rolls. I sighed, rubbing my forehead in frustration.
I reached into my pocket, fingers brushing against my last five-dollar bill. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
"I'm heading to the gas station, we ain't got no pizza rolls!" I yelled toward the living room.
"Okay!" Niya called back, barely paying attention.
"And don't open this door for nobody!" I added, slipping on my shoes and grabbing my jacket.
I closed the door behind me, the night air cooler than I expected. The streets were quiet for the most part, only the occasional car passing by. As I walked, my mind wandered back to the party, Kyree's fight playing over in my head like a broken record.
