Za’miyah’s POV

Sweat trickled down my neck as I adjusted my school bag, the weight of it digging into my shoulders. The hot sun beat down mercilessly on the cracked pavement, and the smell of fried plantain and smoke lingered in the air. My feet ached from the long walk home, but it was better than waiting for a bus I couldn’t afford.

“Miyah!” Mrs. Daley’s voice carried from the corner shop. “Tell your mama seh I need my money by Friday, yuh hear?”

I forced a smile and nodded, the shame twisting in my stomach. As if Mama didn’t already have enough on her plate. Every penny I earned at my weekend job went straight to groceries or bills, yet it never seemed to be enough.

Kingston was like that. It could crush you under its weight if you let it. But I wouldn’t let it. I couldn’t.

When I turned the corner to my yard, the sight of my little brother, Jayden, kicking a deflated football in the dirt made me smile. At least he could still find joy in small things.

“Za’miyah!” he shouted, running up to me. “You see weh mi score last night in di game?”

I ruffled his hair. “Course, I see it, star. Yuh a di next Leon Bailey.”

His grin stretched wide, but it disappeared when Mama’s voice called out from inside the house.

“Miyah! Yuh come wid di bread?”

I sighed. The bread she was talking about cost more than what I had left in my pocket.

“Nah, Mama. Mi affi goes back out later,” I called back. She didn’t answer, and I knew she was frustrated. Same as always.

As I turned to head inside, I caught sight of a black SUV parked across the street. The windows were tinted, but I could feel someone’s eyes on me. My skin prickled. I didn’t trust vehicles like that. Around here, they only meant trouble.

But I brushed it off. Trouble was always watching someone like me.

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Zaire’s POV

The girl didn’t belong here. That was the first thing I noticed about her. She was walking through the streets like she carried the whole damn world on her shoulders, but her face—sweet and innocent—was untouched by the grime of Kingston’s hustle.

I leaned back in my seat, watching her through the window of my SUV. My lieutenant, Bishop, was in the driver’s seat, puffing on a cigarette.

“Boss, why yuh keep looking at di gyal?” Bishop asked, following my gaze.

“None of yuh business,” I muttered, though I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She moved like she was born to fight, like every step she took was a battle she intended to win.

“Mek mi warn yuh, boss,” Bishop said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Gyal like dat nuh good for yuh. She looks innocent, but innocent gyal causes di most problem.”

I ignored him. He didn’t know what he was talking about. She wasn’t like the other women I’d dealt with. She didn’t care about flashy cars or the money in my pocket. She looked like she cared about survival, plain and simple.

I watched as she disappeared into a small, rundown house. My phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking my focus.

“Talk,” I said as I answered.

“We have a problem, Luci,” the voice on the other end said. My jaw clenched. No one called me by my real name anymore. Around here, I was “Luci,” short for Lucifer. A name I’d earned the hard way.

“What kind of problem?” I asked.

“Baines and his crew are making moves on yuh turf. Say yuh slipping.”

Slipping? I didn’t slip. But right now, my mind wasn’t on the streets or the empire I’d built. My mind was on her.

“Handle it,” I said, ending the call.

My eyes drifted back to the house. I didn’t know her name yet, but I would. Soon enough.