The house was quiet again.
Zaire was with Grandma Nettie for the night—giving Maya rare silence and space. She sat at the kitchen table, the vendor form in one hand, her phone in the other, staring at the message.
Don’t trust your little cop friend.
She had blocked the number. Deleted the message. But the words echoed like footsteps in a dark alley.
Was it Darius? Someone from his crew? Or worse—someone watching her and Devin?
She didn’t know. And that scared her more than knowing.
Maya lit one of Tia’s handmade candles—lavender and eucalyptus. Tried to let it calm her. Tried to focus on the booth design, her display plans, her price sheet. She even added new shades to her list: “Hood Royalty”, “Bittersweet Baby”, and “Stay Dangerous.”
But her hands kept shaking.
A knock broke her thoughts.
Not loud. Not forceful. Just... familiar.
She peeked through the peephole.
Devin.
She hesitated, then opened the door slowly.
“You alright?” he asked immediately. “I been calling.”
“My phone been off.”
He looked down. “Something wrong?”
She stepped back and let him in, closing the door behind him. The candle flickered between them.
“I got a message,” she said, finally. “From an unknown number. They said not to trust you.”
His jaw flexed. “Let me see it.”
“I deleted it.”
He nodded, thinking. “You think it was Darius?”
“I don’t know,” Maya said. “But the way it was worded... it felt like someone’s been watching. Like they knew you came by.”
Devin sat down. “They probably are. He’s paranoid right now. Whole crew on edge since one of their stash houses got hit last week.”
Her heart dropped. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Well, I’m worried now,” she said. “You said he’s being watched. But if he knows you came to see me—what if he thinks we—”
“He already thinks it,” Devin cut in. “Doesn’t matter what’s real. What matters is how he moves.”
Maya rubbed her forehead. “I just want peace. For me. For Zaire.”
“I know.” Devin reached into his coat and slid a folded paper across the table. “Then listen to me.”
Maya opened it. A copy of a police report.
Darius’s name was on it. Multiple times.
She looked up at him. “Why are you showing me this?”
“Because I don’t want you to find out from the streets,” he said. “They’re building a case. And they might try to flip you into a witness.”
Her throat went dry. “I ain’t no snitch.”
“I’m not asking you to be. I’m asking you to protect yourself.”
Maya stared at the paper. At the future it warned of. At the mess she hadn’t asked for—but had been born into.
She finally whispered, “What do I do?”
Devin’s voice was low. Steady.
“You cut him off. You stop answering. You move smart. And you let me help you if it gets worse.”
Maya looked at him.
Not the badge. Not the boy from school.
Just him.
“I don’t want to need help,” she said.
He nodded. “I know. But you got it anyway.”
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