Page 75 of Kentrell

She was rough. Quick to get pissed. Cold in a way that made you think she ain’t care about shit.

But now I saw it. Not the attitude. Not the walls.

The damage.

She ain’t needed nobody to save her, but it was clear—she’d been walking around carrying some shit nobody should ever have to live through.

And this?

This wasn’t just wrong.

It was the lowest kind of evil I’d ever seen.

Rage clawed its way up my chest, leaving my pulse hammering in my ears. My fists tightened so hard my knuckles cracked. I couldn’t think straight. Could barely see straight. All I wanted was to drag Yam’s sick ass straight to hell.

His own fucking niece.

Star.

I took a step, ready to confront the twisted bastard—when a loud pounding at the door shattered my thoughts.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“DANYELL, I KNOW YOU IN THIS RAGGEDY PIECE OF SHIT!”

The voice was furious, raw, loud enough to wake the dead. A woman. Didn’t recognize her, but whoever she was, she sounded like trouble.

I froze, snapping my head toward the noise, heart slamming harder. Uncle Yam cursed under his breath, harsh whispers slipping between him and Star. I couldn’t make out all their words, just fragments:

“Who the fuck?—”

“Don’t open that shit...”

“...handle this.”

“...get rid of her...”

Star’s voice was low, shaky—unlike her usual cold detachment. This visitor had rattled them both.

I had seconds to make a move before they passed by and caught me standing here. Quietly, I ducked into the shadowy kitchen, my back pressed against the wall, breath shallow and controlled.

The banging continued, harder this time, echoing through the room.

“OPEN THIS DOOR, YAM! YOU GOT SOME SHIT TO ANSWER FOR!”

I steadied my breathing, heart racing even faster. Whoever she was, she wasn’t letting up. My eyes narrowed, pulse hammering as I listened.

Something told me that whoever stood on the other side of that door was about to blow this shit wide open.

From the kitchen, I strained to hear the whispers by the door. Whoever the woman was, she wasn’t backing down. Her voice was sharp, demanding, ringing with frustration.

Finally, Yam opened the door—just enough to hiss at her through the crack. “What the fuck you want, Taffy?”

Who the hell was Taffy?Name didn’t click for me immediately, but I stayed quiet, listening close.

“You know exactly what I want,” she shot back bitterly. “We got some shit to discuss.”

“Nah, we ain’t got shit to discuss,” Yam growled. “And you can’t just show up outta nowhere?—”

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