In the gritty streets of Harlem, where loyalty is everything and danger lurks around every corner, two seemingly perfect couples, Krystal and Shakur, live a life of wealth and allure. Married for two years, they present a polished image to the world...
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CHAPTER EIGHT
Krystal felt a chill trickle down her spine, that eerie sense of being watched. She stirred, her eyes barely fluttering open, when she saw Shakur standing at the edge of her bed, just...watching her.
Instinctively, her hand slid beneath her pillow, fingers grazing the cold metal of her Glock. But his low chuckle broke the silence.
"You stay reaching for that gun, mama," he said, his tone dripping with amusement, his deep New York accent wrapping around each word.
Her face twisted with irritation. "Don't tell me you was watching me sleep, we ain't that cool nigga." she hissed, propping herself up in bed and tugging the sheet up to cover herself.
He raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on her, completely unfazed. "Ain't nothing I haven't seen before," he said, glancing over her with a half smirk.
"Get up, Krystal. We going on a lil field trip, time you see how things run on my end since you all bout this partnership now."
She rolled her eyes, pushing back the sheet as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I'll take my time, thanks," she shot back. "You don't tell me when to move."
His grin deepened. "That so?"
Ignoring him, Krystal steps into her bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She glanced at herself in the mirror, catching a glimpse of the tension etched into her face. The space was filled with the scent of cocoa butter from the soaps she prefers.
She turns on the water, letting it warm up as she slowly undresses, folding her clothes neatly to the side. The steam filled the room, softening the edges of the mirror and blurring her reflection as she brushed her teeth.
Stepping into the warm shower, she closes her eyes, allowing the water to wash over her, cleansing her skin and the thoughts lingering in her mind.
For a few moments, it was just her and the steady stream of water, a rare moment of peace in her otherwise chaotic life. As she rinses, she stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her as she got out.
After drying herself, she went to her walk-in closet. Krystal took her time slipping into a tight black bodysuit that hugged her curves and pulled on a leather jacket.
She applied a bit of gloss, wiped it off, then slicked her hair back into a ponytail before stepping out. She was well aware of Shakur's gaze trailing her every movement.
"Let's go, then," she said coolly, brushing past him and heading toward the door.
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