Five years after a betrayal that tore their world apart, Dime and Trevon's paths cross in unexpected ways. As attraction blooms in the shadows of their complicated past, they must face secrets that could change everything. In a world where trust is...
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📍 Detroit Police Headquarters
"Mr. Presley, You're looking at 25 to life if you don't cooperate with us" The detective's voice was cold as he lit the cigarette in his hand, placing it between his lips.
He exhaled a cloud of smoke into the interrogation room, filling the room with an unpleasant, smoky odor.
The detective looked down at the folder lying before him on the table. His eyes focused on the mugshot that was attached to the folder.
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He glanced back up at the man sitting across from him, eyeing his bruised and bloodied face.
"I know you ain't built for jail son, especially not for no damn life! So I'll make you a deal...matter fact, are you hungry? I know it's hard to talk on an empty stomach"
Trey Presley's head hung low as he sat in the cold, metal chair, his hands cuffed in front of him. His swollen eyes were barely able to open, and blood still dripped from a gash on his cheek.
"If I talk, ya ain't gon keep shit confidential so nah"
The detective paused, then smirked. "Confidential? You're expecting confidentially from me? I'll tell you this much, Trey......If you cooperate, I make sure your life's not over, but there's no promises. We got our hands tied, somehow there is not one evidence of DNA, all we have is that gun and the residue on your hands...You wanna stay loyal to Trevon, to your crew, knowing what happened?"
He leaned in closer. "What about your life, huh? What's that worth to you? Eighteen years old with a pregnant woman huh? Yeah we know all about you, Trey. Your dad used to be the lead Pastor at a church not too far from here...Imagine your face on the news, getting sentenced for attempted murder... what that would do to your family's legacy?"
Trey's breath quickened, the weight of the words sinking in. His stomach churned with guilt, his hands trembling against the cold metal of the cuffs. He knew the detective was right, but the idea of snitching on Trevon-the only nigga who'd always had his back, who'd pulled him out of trouble more times than he could count-was something he could barely stomach.
