Devin stepped inside, his boots tracking tiny spots of water onto the linoleum. The scent of coconut oil and baby wipes clung to the air like incense. He gave a polite nod to the baby in the high chair.


“Hey Zaire,” he said softly.


Zaire squinted, then smiled and waved with syrupy fingers.


“Boy charming as ever,” Devin said with a chuckle.


Maya closed the door behind him and folded her arms. “What you doing here, Dev?”


He looked at her, his brown eyes careful. “Heard some things. About Darius.”


Maya stiffened. “I don’t want to hear it.”


“You need to,” he said. “That raid I told you about? It’s coming. He’s on the list.”


Her jaw tightened. “And? What that got to do with me?”


“You know exactly what.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “If they find anything linking you to him, even from the past—text messages, photos, bank transfers—Maya, they will twist that into a case. You and Zaire... you can’t afford that.”


She turned her back to him. “I ain’t spoke to Darius in weeks. He just sends money sometimes, that’s it.”


“And that ‘money sometimes’ can turn into evidence,” Devin said. “You gotta cut him off. All the way.”


Maya stared at the half-labeled lip gloss tubes on the counter. “That easy, huh?”


“No,” Devin said. “But it’s necessary.”


She turned back around, her voice tight. “Don’t come in here like you some savior.”


“I’m not.” He looked down. “But I couldn’t live with myself if I stayed silent. They’re watching him, May. Watching everyone close to him.”


She swallowed hard. “So what—now you the enemy? A badge before the block?”


He didn’t flinch. “I’m still me. Same Dev you climbed rooftops with, remember? Same one who gave you my lunch when you ain’t eat. But I got a job now. And part of that job is making sure people I care about don’t get caught in crossfire.”


They stood in silence, the sound of Zaire slapping his waffle breaking the tension.


Devin reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded envelope.


“This is for you,” he said. “And not from the department.”


She opened it—three hundred dollars, cash. Crisp. Clean.


“Use it for your business,” he said. “Or diapers. Or whatever. Just... don’t go back to him. Please.”


He turned to leave before she could answer. Maya stood frozen in place, the envelope in one hand, her child in the other.


And behind her, the lip gloss tubes continued to cool, quiet as the storm brewing outside.