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Chapter 4 // Find Me

Danielle POV

I've Been Call Jada Phone For Three Days Now And It's Going Straight To Voicemail , I Even Got In Contact With Nyan To See If He Talked To Her Or Even Seen Her But He Hasn't And I'm Scared For My BestFriend Now, So I Called Up Nyan Again

Phone Call

Me: Yeoo We Need To Talk ASAP Come Over Now !

Hustle : What Happen ?

Me: Omggg Juss Come Over Now , I'll Explain Everything To You

Hustle : Okay I'm On My Way Now !

End Of Convo

Sajada POV

It's been three long days since my so-called "father" assaulted me, and my mother—my own mother—helped him. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. I feel his disgusting hands on me. I hear my mother's voice telling him to hold me down, telling him it was okay. The betrayal is worse than the physical pain, and I can't escape it.

They locked me in my room after the first time, and I've been trapped here ever since—bruised, bloody, and broken. My body aches with every movement, and the weight of what they've done to me feels like it's crushing my spirit. It's hard to breathe.

Twice a day, like clockwork, he comes into my room. The sound of his footsteps outside the door makes my heart stop, and I begin to shake before he even opens it. I scream. I fight. I beg for it to end, but it's as if no one hears me—or if they do, no one cares enough to do anything.

The air in this room smells of blood and fear, the walls closing in around me. I can't move like I used to. My voice is raw from screaming for help, and my hands are covered in bruises from banging on the walls. But it's useless. No one comes.

I lie there, staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down my face. Please, Danielle, I think, please be looking for me. I hope Hustle isn't thinking I ran off and gave up on the job.

But deep down, a part of me wonders if it matters. Does anyone care enough to find me? To rescue me? Or am I just going to rot away here, abandoned and forgotten, like I've always been?

Maybe nobody ever really loved me.

Hustle POV

Well, I'm Nyan Hall, AKA Hustle, the great money maker. I've always had a love for money, and that ain't ever gonna change. I grew up bouncing between Brooklyn and Newark, two cities that taught me the game and shaped who I am today. It wasn't always easy, but it made me who I am. Now, as for Sajadaa, she's always been cool with me, and I'm glad I got her back in my life. I've known that girl since way back. She means the world to me, but there's always been this damn anchor holding her down—her evil-ass mother. Now that she's finally cut ties with that woman, I want my girl back. That's a little bit about me, but what's really on my mind right now is Danielle. She needs to talk to me about something, and I don't think it's good.

I pulled up to Danielle's house, and there she was, pacing back and forth on the porch, looking like she was about to lose her mind.

"Yo, what's going on? What's the problem?" I said, stepping out of the car, my eyes narrowing at the tension in her body language.

She didn't waste a second. "She's missing, Hustle. Jadaa's missing! I don't know what to do!" Danielle's voice cracked as the tears spilled down her face, and I could see how frantic she was.

"Hold up, calm down," I said, trying to steady her. "Talk to me. How do you know she's missing? What's going on?"

Danielle wiped her face, trying to breathe. "I've been calling her for three days, and every time it just goes to voicemail. She would never just let her phone die or not call me back without saying something. She always checks in. This isn't like her, Hustle."