Page 37 of Butterfly 6, Phase 1

Nothing about that sentiment felt right to Alani. She reached for Bella, stroking her cheek with her thumb. “There are no sides. We are all on the same side, baby girl. I’m just trying to piece things back together, and it can be frustrating and overwhelming. I’m sorry for worrying you. I don’t want you to have anxiety about anything, baby girl.” Bella nodded, but she was sick to her stomach. Bella had a loyalty to Alani that trumped all. She had always taken Alani’s side. She had always protected her. It felt wrong to willfully deceive her, and Bella’s conscience was screaming.

“Love was our brother,” Bella revealed. “You and Daddy are supposed to have two babies together. He died,” Bella whispered. “I spent almost every day with you when you were pregnant. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anybody more than you. You came into my life, and you made it better. I never knew my biological mom, and when I met you, you stepped up for me like you birthed me. I’ve never told you how that changed my life, but you did. You chose me when you didn’t have to, and I just don’t want anything to make you change your mind about that. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when you asked. I’ve never lied to you, and I don’t want to lie to you now. Love was my baby brother. He was your son.”

Alani couldn’t shape reality. It was constantly shifting, and she was depending on others to fill her in, but this revelation of another child in the grave sank her stomach so deeply that it felt like the sadness turned her inside out.

“Come here, Bella,” she whispered as she held out both her hands.

“You’re shaking,” Bella noticed as they gripped hands.

“I’m lost and afraid, Bella. Between Kenzie and now Love, I’m gutted,” Alani answered truthfully, as she anchored herself in Bella’s eyes. “I don’t feel whole, and that’s not something you’ll understand until you’re older and you have children of your own. I’m not going anywhere, though. You can tell me hard things, and I’ll still be right here, praying my way through the healing. Thank you for being honest with me.”

“I just didn’t know if Daddy would want you to know that,” Bella admitted. “It was a hard time. We all just want to make it easy for you.”

“It’s okay,” Alani reassured. “We clearly made it through that time, just like we’ll make it through this one. Give me a minute to decompress, okay? Make sure Eazy’s okay and bring me that suit and measuring tape after Mara sizes him. I want to make sure it’s right.”

Bella sighed and lifted from the bed. When Alani was alone, her intrusive thoughts crept into her psyche. Why are they so afraid I’ll leave? Why wouldn’t Ethic want me to know about our son? Alani felt like Ethic was a familiar stranger. He was close enough to touch her, to care for her, but she couldn’t remember him well enough to trust his intentions. Things just felt too neat, too loving, and everyone was too timid regarding the things they said to her, like they were guarding something, hiding something. Alani felt like everyone was walking on eggshells, including Nannie. It had her on edge, wired, like she had to protect herself from the perception of safety because danger was present somewhere she couldn’t see. She couldn’t tell if her feelings were justified or if she was guarded and paranoid from the memory loss, but she couldn’t fully relax. She didn’t trust anyone, even though she could feel that she adored them all.

Alani knew she should stay in bed, but she needed answers, and she was determined to find them. She used all her energy to come to her feet and struggled to Ethic’s side of the bed. She opened his nightstand and began to snoop, pulling out papers and old wallets. When she came up short, she sighed. She stood and made her way to the closet, flicking on the light, and eyeing his side of the room-sized, custom space. She was barely on her feet, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she scratched this itch. Her intuition was screaming at her, and Alani couldn’t ignore it. She wanted to trust Ethic, but the look in Bella’s eyes, the fear of the truth being discovered, put Alani on guard in a way she couldn’t ignore. If he wouldn’t tell her what he was hiding, she would find out herself.

Chapter 11

“Bam” by Jay-Z

Ethic hated this. Emerging from the shadows. Defending his kingdom. He had walked many paths in life, seen many corners of the earth, and played every aspect of the game. He had seen all. Lived all. This was his least favorite position. The ruthless king. It was a throne he had long abandoned, but once crowned, it was a station a nigga always had to defend. Fatherhood and marriage had pushed him to a neutral ground. But the business in which he had built his wealth was not one you retired from easily. Someone or something always came back around. The only time a king could abandon his kingdom was when his crown hit the ground. So, here he was, taking off the mask that allowed him to govern his family, to kiss his children goodnight, and to walk into a church with his wife on Sunday mornings. Ethic’s daily life consisted of changing diapers, fixing up old-school classic cars, football practices, volleyball meets, and overseeing his business endeavors. He had transformed his life into something many men took for granted, but beneath all that was a past filled with anarchy. That past had come knocking at his door today, and he was full of rage because his family had been present. There was a time when he had lived to prove his power. Ethic used to pull triggers as casually as he breathed. He was always ready to get active when provoked, but this switching of roles, this tucking his vulnerability, his growth behind the history of his legend to make sure his family was safe, was damaging. The bloodshed. The malice it took to lace up his old boots was hard to reel back in. Ethic was a man healed by the love of a woman, by the trust of his children, by the responsibility of leadership and fatherhood. This shit required the most unhealed parts of him to reveal themselves. But fuck it. Ethic knew how to play ball. Once a shooter, always a shooter. The thought of what could have happened had he not spotted the tail sent him to a merciless place.

Ethic was a killer, and he didn’t own that proudly, but he was who he was, and as much as he wanted to be redeemed, threatening his family’s safety would always bring out the worst in him. He had put a gun in his daughter’s hand today. Somebody had to atone for that.

He hated everything about the authorities, but he was wise enough to know connections within the force were necessary. One call from a burner phone, and the occupants of the vehicle that had followed him were identified. He had already deactivated the internet signal on the entire block to ensure that no cameras would pick up what was about to occur, and he drove one of the older model cars from his auto repair shop, swapping out the plates for dummy plates, so it couldn’t be traced in case someone saw it. His personal cell phone had been left at home so that it would ping off the cell towers all night. He knew how to create a firm alibi for himself. It was necessary for what the night held in store for him.

Standing over a nigga’s bed, tapping into the darkest parts of himself, Ethic dreaded that he had to do this again. He wanted to be so much better than the world allowed. Somehow, he always ended up taking fate into his own hands.

He held his gun firmly in one hand, and he took the barrel and tapped it on the sleeping man’s forehead.

The man leapt out of his sleep as consciousness made him aware of the danger he was in. Before he could panic, Ethic had him pressed against the space between the nightstand and the mattress.

“Aht, aht, aht,” he chastised. The death grip he placed around the man’s neck with his free hand was so tight that Ethic felt the muscles in that man’s neck as he strained and struggled beneath his weight.

“You wanted to see me, here I am,” he said. His calm was terrifying. He was strong and in complete control. The grip he used wasn’t random. He applied pressure to the tendons supporting this man’s spine. If Ethic squeezed hard enough, he would snap this man’s neck.

“Who sent you?” he demanded.

“Ahh!” the man screamed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man! You’ve got the wrong…”

Psst! Psst!

Two squeezes of the trigger. The bullets entered the man’s lower back.

“Ahhhh!” The roar he let out was bloodcurdling. Ethic was unmoved.

“Who the fuck sent you?” he asked again. “Hmm?” The man screamed in pain but offered no response.

“Let me show you something,” Ethic said. His aim was steady, keeping the man under his control as he stood upright. Ethic pulled a burner phone from his back pocket. He hit one button and turned the phone towards the man.

“OG, say the word and we running in this mu’fucka.” Isa was ready. Isa was always ready, and although he had been surprised to get the call at all, he was more than willing to ride.

“Man, please. That’s my mama house! Call your men off!” the man pleaded.

Ethic had no intention of taking the life of an innocent woman, but he knew how to dig underneath a nigga’s ribs to find where he was tender.