Page 213 of I See You

Ariel. Dead.

Her lifeless body sat stiff, neck twisted unnaturally, and carved into her forehead in deep, angry strokes was one word:HOE.

Dorian’s calling card.

Braxton stumbled back into the jet’s lounge area, eyes wide, body weak. Panic clawed at his chest as he tried to catch his breath. The gunfire outside had stopped. The lights inside flickered on.

As his vision cleared, he saw him. Seated exactly where Sevyn had been just minutes ago. Hassan. No. Ice. Legs spread, calm and menacing, a massive sword laid across his lap, glinting like it had already tasted blood.

Braxton’s heart dropped to his stomach. “Has...san...” he choked out, shaking now.

Hassantiltedhishead,hisvoicecalmanddeadly.“Nah,nigga. Ice.”

Braxton tried to step back, but the jet’s rear door opened.

Carlos DeVille walked in slowly, each step marked by the sharp click of his cane against the floor.

“Unc… Uncle Carlos?” Braxton’s voice cracked with disbelief. Carlos didn’t blink. “You ain’t my fucking nephew,” he said coolly.

“You thought I wouldn’t find out? Stealing from me. Snitching to the feds. Using my hanger like I don’t own every inch of it.”

“I—I...” Braxton stammered, then snapped, desperate. “You got my father killed!”

Carlos let out a slow chuckle like the accusation amused him. Hassan leaned back in his chair, still silent, still deadly.

“Man, fuck the family therapy shit. Old man, do what you gotta do so I can have this bitch to myself,” he muttered.

Von and Roman stood by the exit, posted like shadows with guns on their hips and smirks on their lips.

Carlos waved a hand lazily. “Nah… I stopped getting my handsdirty a long time ago. But I do love a good show.”

He eased into one of the leather seats and leaned back, like he was settling in for a movie.

Hassan rose—slowly. Intentionally.

The sword dragged lightly against his thigh as he moved. His eyes never left Braxton.

Braxton took a shaky step backward, but his escape was already blocked. Roman and Von stood behind him, arms crossed, smiles cold.

There was no running. The room was filled with silence. Sharp. Heavy. Dangerous. And in the middle of it all, Ice was ready to make him bleed.

Hassan set his sword down in the seat before turning to Braxton. “What the fuck you do to my baby?” he asked, voice cold, steady, and unforgiving.

Braxton tried to hold his ground, voice shaking but laced with defiance. “She not your baby.”

“Wrong answer.” Hassan moved so fast Braxton didn’t see the punch coming until it landed hard in his gut, folding him over witha wheeze. It felt like he got hit by a damn truck. He crouched down, gasping, face twisted in pain.

“Get up, nigga! You wanted to touch what’s mine?” Hassan shouted, his voice sharper than a blade.

“She’s not yours,” Braxton managed to say through a shallow breath.

Hassan hit him again—this time to the ribs. Braxton’s legs gave out completely. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even speak. But Hassan wasn’t finished. He grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall with so much force it made the cabin shake. Braxton’s face turned red, eyes bulging, fear setting in so deep he pissed himself.

Roman laughed. “Nigga just peed on himself.” Von chuckled too, but Hassan didn’t flinch. His face stayed cold, unreadable. He pulled a knife from his pocket and drove it through Braxton’s hand, nailing him to the wall. Braxton screamed, but it only fueled Hassan’s rage. Another knife. Another hand. Braxton was now hanging, suspended in agony, blood pouring from both palms.

“Damn,” Carlos muttered from the back, watching like he was at a private showing.

Hassan grabbed his sword and slowly unsheathed it, eyes never leaving Braxton. “I seen the cuts on my baby. You sliced her up like she was meat?” Braxton whimpered, couldn’t answer. “That what she was to you?” Hassan continued, voice calm but lethal. “Meat?”

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