Zaire’s POV

The streets of Kingston taught me three things: never trust a man who smiles too much, always have an escape plan, and power is worth more than money. I learned that last one the hard way.

I sat in my office, high above the city in one of the luxury skyscrapers I owned. The view was breathtaking, but it didn’t impress me anymore. It was just another way to keep myself above the chaos below.

“Boss, the shipment landed last night,” Bishop said, stepping into the room. He had that same gruff tone he always used when there was bad news.

“And?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.

“Baines’ crew intercepted it,” he said. “We lost the goods.”

I clenched my fists under the table. “Yuh mean to tell me Baines had di balls fi step pon my turf and take what’s mine?”

Bishop nodded. “Word on di street is he’s testing yuh. Wants to see if yuh slipping.”

I stood, my chair scraping against the floor. Baines had been a thorn in my side for months now, but this was a direct challenge. I couldn’t let it slide.

“Send a message,” I said, my voice cold. “Make sure he knowss shetknowswthata mistake.”

Bishop hesitated. “What kind of message?”

“Di kind him won’t forget,” I said.

Bishop nodded and left without another word.

As the door closed, I leaned against the desk, my mind drifting back to her—Za’miyah. She had no idea the kind of world I lived in. A part of me wanted to keep her out of it, but another part of me wanted her close.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my messages. One from an old friend caught my attention. It was a reminder of who I used to be before all of this—before the money, the power, the name “Luci.”

I pushed the thought aside. There was no going back now.

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Za’miyah’s POV

The day felt longer than usual, and by the time school was out, I was exhausted. I walked through the school gates, my bag slung over my shoulder when I noticed the same black SUV from earlier parked across the street.

My heart skipped a beat, but I kept walking. I didn’t have time to worry about strangers in fancy cars.

“Miyah!” My friend Tasha called out, running to catch up with me. “Yuh coming to di dancehall party tonight?”

I shook my head. “Mi have work later, Tasha. Yuh know mi don’t have time fi dat.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yuh always working. Mi swear, yuhswearsfi live a little.”

I laughed, but it didn’t reach my eyes. Tasha didn’t understand what it meant to have people depending on you. She didn’t know the pressure of having to choose between paying the light bill and buying dinner.

As we reached the corner, I noticed the SUV again. This time, the window rolled down slightly, and I caught a glimpse of someone inside. A man.

“Miyah, yuh good?” Tasha asked, nudging me.

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Mi just tired.”

But I wasn’t tired. I was nervous.

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Zaire’s POV

She saw me.

Her eyes darted toward the SUV, but she didn’t stop walking. She had that cautious look like she was trying to decide if I was in trouble.

In She was right. I was trouble.

“Boss, yuh really this worth it?” Bishop asked from the driver’s seat.

“Drive,” I said, ignoring his question.

As we pulled away, I couldn’t help but glance back at her. She was different from anyone I’d ever met, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

All I knew was that I wasn’t ready to let her go.

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