“Baby,” Aaliyah called my name, trying to get my attention, but I was too wrapped up in my own anger. “Fabe!”
 
 “What?”
 
 “Please don’t do this.”
 
 “Why the fuck not?”
 
 “Because what if you get caught? Then what is going to happen to me? Who is going to be here for me? Who is going to love me?”
 
 “Babe, I’m sorry. I gotta do this. I won’t feel like a man if I let this motherfucker continuously get away with threatening my woman. And now he is threatening me. Carlos is dead. Lavell and Nell is dead. His own fucking cousin is missing. All four of them was tight with Rah. Now, they’re all dead or missing, and that’s not a coincidence.”
 
 When I first heard about Caine, I figured one of his opps had finally gotten revenge. But when Lavell and Nell wound up dead, something in my gut told me that Rah had to have something to do with all of it.
 
 “And I don’t want you to be next,” Aaliyah begged.
 
 “I won’t be.”
 
 “You don’t know that! That motherfucker manages to get rid of everyone around him. Please…”
 
 When she broke down and started sobbing, she broke my rage-filled trance. The part of me that loved her overtook the savage in me. She collapsed into my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her, gun still gripped in my right hand.
 
 “Please don’t do this,” she pleaded tearfully.
 
 I tossed the gun on the loveseat next to us so that I could hold her tighter. Then I sighed, “It’s okay, baby.”
 
 “I don’t want anything to happen to you. Please don’t.”
 
 “I won’t.”
 
 But for the first time, I had lied to Aaliyah. I knew my brother. To him, this was war. And I refused for this woman to be his next victim, so I had to ensure that I took this nigga out.
 
 30
 
 KAHLANI
 
 The Songs of Moses had dropped at midnight on every streaming platform, and the video had gone live on YouTube. By that afternoon, my phone was still lighting up like fireworks. All morning and afternoon, while Trent was at school, me and my man did nothing but celebrate under the covers with a bottle of tequila and a sexy playlist on repeat. The entire day had been on a loop of drinking, dreaming, scrolling, making out, and fucking.
 
 I had on this little rose-print lounge set with thin straps on a cropped topped that barely held my large breasts and tiny shorts. Moses was in nothing but briefs. The fabric hugged him tight and showed every line of his perfect dick. He was sprawled on his back with one arm behind his head and the other holding my phone so we could scroll the comments together. The room smelled like tequila, weed, sex, and him.
 
 My chin rested on his chest as I smiled up into his eyes. “Read that one again.”
 
 He grinned, and, like always, it knocked me off balance. “‘This the one. Moses ain’t just rapping, he’s baptizing the beat.’” He laughed and kissed my forehead.
 
 I excitedly took the phone and scrolled. The views, likes, and shares were climbing. “‘Is that his real girl in the video? Y’all cute af.’” I grinned. “Ooo, someone else said,‘It’s so nice to finally see a real, curvy body, not that fake shit. Shorty got body!’” I was beaming! “We’re about to be one of those famous rap couples. Like Ari and Moneybagg Yo’!” Moses started cracking up as my eyes bulged like I’d gotten a great idea. “I need to get my body done, baby.”
 
 He started cracking up. “No, you don’t.”
 
 “Yes, I do! You’re about to be a star, and I have to look perfect on your arm.”
 
 His grip found my waist under the covers and dragged me closer. “You’re already perfect, baby.”
 
 I couldn’t stop smiling. I actually looked hot in that video. My waist was cinched, booty was sitting, titties were popping, and my face was beat to perfection. I could still feel the heat from the hot tub scene where I climbed in his lap; still feel the wind from the motorcycle shot whipping my hair while I wrapped my arms tight around him; still hear the director shouting, “One more take!” while we slid into the pool and kissed like there was no one else in the world. It was wild and fun …and he swore I ate every frame. He wasn’t lying. Standing next to him like that, all dolled up, I felt like one of those “It Girls”.
 
 “I’m so proud of you, baby. Youreallydid that.”
 
 “We,” he corrected. “Wedid that. They are talking about us in that video just as much as the song.”
 
 He kissed me, and his hand slid up the back of my thigh, while the other cupped my face. When we broke apart, both of us werecheesing.