Tank held Kayla close, her body trembling against his as she sobbed into his chest. He didn't say anything—just held her, kissed the top of her head, and let her cry.

His sisters rushed toward the commotion, concern etched across their faces.

"What happened?" Tanya demanded, her sharp eyes scanning the yard. "Why were the cops here?"

Tamera crossed her arms, her expression just as fierce. "Did something happen to Kayla? What's going on?"

Tank didn't respond immediately.

Neither did Terrance Sr. or Miss Sherri.

They exchanged quick glances, a silent understanding passing between them.

This wasn't their story to tell.

Kayla was visibly shaken, her face streaked with tears, her body stiff with embarrassment. The last thing she needed was for everyone to know the depths of what she had suffered.

"Her mother and stepdad harassed her," was all Tank muttered, his voice tight.

Tanya's eyes darkened. "Harassed her how?"

Tank's jaw flexed, his grip on Kayla tightening instinctively.

"They just showed up uninvited, talking reckless. But it don't matter—they gone now."

Terrance Sr. nodded firmly, backing his son. "Ain't nothing for y'all to worry about."

But that wasn't good enough for Tanya.

She knew her brother.

Knew when he was holding back.

Her gaze flickered to her mama, who looked like she was barely holding in her own anger. Then to Kayla, whose face was turned into Tank's chest, her small hands gripping his shirt like he was the only thing keeping her standing.

Tanya's stomach twisted.

Whatever had happened, it was bad.

And she was gonna find out—one way or another.

But for now, she let it drop, exchanging a look with Tamera, who was clearly thinking the same thing.

"Alright," Tanya finally said, though her tone made it clear she wasn't letting this go.

"Come on, baby," Miss Sherri finally said softly, rubbing Kayla's back. "Let's get you inside, get you some tea."

Kayla nodded weakly, still gripping onto Tank, needing his strength to guide her inside.

And Tank, he wasn't letting her go.

Not now.

Not ever.

Tank cradled Kayla's face, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears as she sniffled.

"Please, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You're breaking my heart, and you crying like this might stress the baby."

Kayla nodded weakly, her body feeling heavy with exhaustion. The fear had left her body, but now she was just sad—embarrassed.

She just needed to lay down, needed a moment to breathe, to process everything.

Tank felt her body slack against him, and he didn't hesitate—he scooped her up effortlessly, holding her close as he carried her inside the house.

Miss Sherri followed close behind, her worried eyes never leaving Kayla.

"I'mma fix you a cup of tea, baby," Miss Sherri murmured as Tank carried Kayla to their room. "Something to calm you down."

Kayla didn't even have the energy to respond.

She just buried her face in Tank's chest, letting his warmth, his scent, his presence anchor her.

Tank gently pushed open their bedroom door and laid her down on the bed, pulling the covers over her.

He wasn't going nowhere.

Not after today.

Not after seeing that fear in her eyes.

Not after watching her relive the trauma she had spent months trying to escape.

Tank brushed a hand over her stomach, feeling the slight roundness beneath his palm. His baby was in there. Their baby.

And he'd be damned if he ever let anything or anyone stress his woman again.

Tank sat on the edge of the bed, his hand never leaving Kayla's stomach.

She had finally stopped crying, but her breathing was still uneven, her eyes puffy from the weight of her emotions.

"Baby, you need to sleep," he murmured, rubbing slow circles over her belly. "I got you. You safe. Ain't nobody gon' bother you no more."

Kayla sniffled and nodded weakly. "Just stay with me," she whispered.

"Ain't no place else I'd rather be," Tank assured her, stretching out beside her, pulling her close so her head rested against his chest.

He felt the way her fingers clutched his shirt, like she was afraid he'd slip away. He tightened his hold, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Rest, lil bit," he whispered. "I got you and this lil baby in here."

Kayla finally let her eyes close, her breathing slowing as the exhaustion took over.

Tank, however, was still burning inside.

He couldn't stop replaying the way Vince had looked at her. The way he talked to her. The way that bastard had the nerve to step foot on their land and spew that bullshit after everything he had done.

Tank clenched his jaw, staring up at the ceiling.

He wanted that man dead.

Hell, if it wasn't for his pops, Frank, and Fred stepping in, he might've already handled it.

His fists curled at the thought, but then Kayla stirred slightly in his arms, and he exhaled, forcing himself to calm down.

He had to be here. For her. For their baby.

As Kayla slept, Tank made a silent promise to himself—nobody would ever hurt her again.

Martha sat in the cold, cramped jail cell, gripping the phone as the dial tone buzzed in her ear.

She had called Gwen, the one person she thought she could count on, but after explaining everything—how she and Vince had gone to Decatur looking for Kayla, how it all went sideways, how she was now locked up—Gwen's response had been nothing short of brutal.

A sharp chuckle came through the receiver.

"You really got some nerve, Martha," Gwen said, amusement laced in her tone. "You let that man abuse your child, ran behind him like a damn fool, and now you wanna call me for help?"

"Gwen, please—" Martha started, but Gwen cut her off.

"I ain't bailing you out. You sit in there and think about how bad you failed as a mother," Gwen snapped. "You let that man do whatever the hell he wanted to Kayla, and now, you got the audacity to pop up in her life like she supposed to welcome you with open arms? You a damn disgrace."

Click.

The line went dead.

Martha sat there, stunned, her fingers still clutching the receiver as if Gwen might change her mind and call back.

She didn't.

But Gwen was coming to Decatur.

Martha had made sure of that before the call ended—she had mentioned that Kayla was in Decatur, and that was all it took.

If there was one thing about Gwen, it was that she always had a soft spot for Kayla.

And unlike Martha, Gwen was about to do what should've been done a long time ago—check on her niece and make sure she was all right.

Martha slumped down onto the hard, metal bench, her hands covering her face as the weight of it all came crashing down on her.

She was sitting in a jail cell, abandoned by the very man she had chosen over her daughter, with no one coming to bail her out. Not Vince. Not Gwen. Not even Kayla.

The realization stung worse than she expected.

Her body shook with silent sobs until a sharp voice cut through the cell.

"Bitch, if you don't stop all that damn crying," one of the other inmates snapped. "Ain't nobody trying to hear that. You keep it up, and I'ma give you something to cry about."

Martha sucked in a breath, quickly wiping her tears. She didn't want any trouble—not in here. She folded her arms, pressing her lips together to keep from whimpering.

But nothing could stop the regret clawing at her insides.

Kayla was pregnant.

Not only that, but she was loved. Fully embraced by a family that stood up for her in ways Martha never had. That woman—Miss Sherri—had held Kayla close like she was her own damn child.

And Tank, he damn near killed Vince just for speaking on Kayla, not to mention what he would've done if his dad hadn't stepped in. That man didn't just love Kayla—he protected her.

Martha swallowed the lump in her throat.

She should have been that kind of mother. But she wasn't.

Instead, she had let Vince run their house. Let him hurt Kayla. Let him drive a wedge between them.

And now?

Now, Kayla had a whole new family. A man who cherished her. A baby on the way. A life that no longer included the woman who had given birth to her.

And sitting there, in that cold, unforgiving cell, Martha finally understood that she had lost her daughter for good.

Vince groaned, his entire body radiating with pain as he lay in that stiff hospital bed, handcuffed to the rail.

Every breath he took sent a sharp, stabbing sensation through his ribs, and his face felt like it had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler. That damn boy. That Tank had beaten him to within an inch of his life.

The doctors had already told him his injuries were extensive—a fractured rib, a broken nose, a dislocated jaw, and multiple contusions. Every nerve in his body felt shattered, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it but lay there, marinating in his misery.

But he wasn't going down like this.

He signaled an officer over, his voice rough and broken. "I wanna press charges."

Officer Townsend, a thick, seasoned cop with a lazy smirk, crossed his arms and looked down at Vince like he was nothing more than a nuisance.

"Press charges?" Townsend scoffed, shaking his head. "That ain't how this works, partner."

Vince frowned. "The hell you mean? That man damn near killed me!"

Townsend chuckled, looking over at the other officers in the room before returning his eyes to Vince. "Yeah? And what the hell you expect, trespassing on private property, threatening folks, running your damn mouth? You lucky you ain't leave in a body bag."

Vince clenched his fists, but the movement sent pain shooting up his arm. He gritted his teeth. "That's a damn lie! I ain't threaten nobody—"

Townsend held up a hand, silencing him. "I ain't interested in your little sob story. Fact is, you stepped on Carter land where you wasn't welcome, you ran your mouth, and you got your ass handed to you. Ain't no jury in Georgia finna side with you. And between me and you?" He leaned in slightly, his smirk deepening. "You deserved every last hit you got."

Laughter erupted from the other officers in the room, all of them looking at Vince like he was the biggest joke of the day.

The humiliation was worse than the pain.

Vince had always been the one in control—the one calling the shots, demanding respect, ruling over his household with an iron fist. But now? Now, he was nothing.

Beaten. Broken. Powerless.

And worst of all?

Nobody gave a damn.

Janay sat on the couch, her legs curled under her as she absentmindedly scrolled on her phone, the TV playing in the background. Adonis was next to her, flipping through channels, but neither of them was really paying attention. She knew their parents had gone down to Decatur to find Kayla, and truth be told—she hoped they didn't find her.

She wasn't exactly Kayla's biggest fan, never had been. Kayla always got attention, even when she didn't ask for it. Their mother always arguing with her, their stepfather paid her too much attention, and even when she ran away, the whole world seemed to revolve around Kayla. Meanwhile, nobody ever gave a damn about what Janay wanted.

Still, despite all of that, she knew her parents weren't shit. And she knew if they found Kayla, it wouldn't be good.

A sudden knock at the door startled both of them.

Adonis sighed, pushing up from the couch. "Who the hell?" he muttered as he made his way to the door.

When he opened it, Gwen stood on the porch, a purse slung over her shoulder and a no-nonsense look on her face.

"Y'all, get your shoes on. We got a situation."

Janay sat up, raising a brow. "What?"

Gwen stepped inside, letting the screen door slam shut behind her. "Your mama and Vince are in jail."

Janay's mouth fell open. "What?!"

Adonis, unfazed, smirked slightly. "Sounds about right."

Gwen didn't waste time getting to the point. "I'm heading to Decatur to check on Kayla. Your mama called me, damn near hyperventilating, talking 'bout Kayla's pregnant and had some kind of breakdown. Said she with some truck driver—Tank, or whatever his name is." Gwen huffed. "So, I need to make sure my niece is good."

Adonis's head snapped up. "Wait, Kayla's pregnant?"

Gwen nodded. "Yup. And it ain't by just anybody—it's by some truck driver named Tank."

Janay furrowed her brows, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Kayla pregnant... by a truck driver?" She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "Man, that sound like some made-up Lifetime movie shit."

Adonis, however, was already grabbing his shoes. "I'm coming with you."

Janay hesitated, but curiosity got the best of her. She had to see this for herself.

With a sigh, she stood up, grabbing her hoodie. "Yeah, me too. Ain't no way this shit real."

Janay smirked as she tapped away on her phone, the soft glow of the screen illuminating her face in the dim car. She couldn't help herself. This was too juicy not to share.

Josh deserved to know, didn't he?

She found his contact and quickly typed out the message:

Yo, you ain't gon' believe this... Kayla pregnant. And guess what? It ain't yours. Some truck driver named Tank got her knocked up.

She tossed her phone into her lap, watching as the message delivered.

Adonis glanced over, catching the smug look on her face. "What the hell you doin'?"

Janay shrugged. "Just lettin' an old friend know what's up."

Adonis sucked his teeth. "Man, you messy as hell. You ain't got shit else better to do?"

Janay rolled her eyes, looking out the window. "Ain't my fault Kayla livin' some wild-ass story. She out here pregnant by a trucker and living on some compound? That shit sound like a hood fairytale. I just think it's funny how she left everybody behind like she better than us, but she out there gettin' knocked up by some dude drivin' 18-wheelers."

Gwen, overhearing, shot Janay a sharp look from the driver's seat. "Watch your mouth, girl. You talk like you know what Kayla been through, but you don't know shit."

Janay scoffed, folding her arms. "Whatever."

She may not have known every little thing, but she knew Kayla always got away with stuff. And now? Now she was out in Georgia, playing house with some man Janay had never even heard of.

The car ride was quiet for a moment—until Janay's phone buzzed.

Josh had texted back. You lyin'. Ain't no way Kayla pregnant. By who??

Janay smirked, her fingers flying across the screen. Told you. Some truck driver named Tank. We on our way to Decatur now. Thought you might wanna know.

Josh didn't reply right away, but Janay already knew what was about to happen. This was about to get real interesting.

Gwen gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, her nails pressing into the leather as she kept her eyes on the highway. She should've done more.

She thought back to all the times she asked Kayla if she was okay, all the times Kayla smiled and said she was fine when Gwen could feel something was wrong. She saw the hesitation in Kayla's eyes, the way her body tensed when certain topics came up, the way she avoided talking too much about home.

And now, here she was—pregnant, living with a man they barely knew, and completely cut off from them.

Gwen let out a breath. "I should've taken her with me a long time ago."

Adonis, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced at her. "Huh?"

Gwen shook her head. "Nothin'."

She could feel Janay scrolling on her phone in the backseat, probably being messy as usual. That girl didn't know when to stop. But Gwen didn't have the energy to check her right now.

Her mind was too busy replaying every moment she let Kayla down. She should've pushed harder, should've dug deeper.

And now, she was going to Decatur to make sure Kayla was okay, to make sure she was really safe—because if she found out Kayla was in another bad situation?

She'd burn that whole compound down before she let it happen again. The hum of the highway filled the silence between them, tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Janay, still scrolling through her phone in the backseat, smirked to herself. "So... Kayla pregnant by some truck driver? That's wild."

Gwen exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel. "Janay, shut up."

Janay rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying, she ran away just to get knocked up? Could've done that in Richmond."

Adonis turned in his seat to glare at his sister. "You don't know what the hell you talkin' about, so stop running your mouth."

Janay sucked her teeth. "All I know is, Kayla always got a way of making everything about her. Mama and Vince went all the way down there for her, and look where they at now—in jail. And for what?"

Gwen clenched her jaw, her patience running thin. "They in jail because they put their hands on her. And because Vince is a fucking predator."

Janay fell silent for a second, before muttering, "Yeah, whatever."

Adonis shook his head, disgusted. "You act like you don't know what the fuck was going on in that house, Janay. You blind or just don't care?"

Janay sucked her teeth again, but this time she didn't respond.

Gwen's grip on the wheel tightened. "Listen, I don't give a damn what y'all think about Kayla or what she doin' down there, but we ain't about to go down there and make shit worse for her. I wanna see for myself if she's okay, and if she is? We leavin' it at that. If she wanna stay, she stayin'. Ain't nobody draggin' her back to Richmond."

Adonis nodded in agreement. "That's real. She deserves some peace."

Janay huffed but didn't say anything else, crossing her arms and looking out the window.

Gwen exhaled, her mind racing. She just hoped they weren't too late.