28. Derek's Destiny

In the wake of destruction, Derek confronts the depths of his devotion to Destiny, bringing Hell to anyone who threatens their future—even if it means losing himself in the process.

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Are you new to this series? If so, tap below to start from the very beginning…

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PREVIOUSLY ON DEREK'S DESTINY: Derek confronts Ant about keeping him in the dark regarding everything Destiny had been through back in college with Jake, as well as his involvement. Meanwhile, Hakeem takes a big step by accompanying Eden to church, meeting her parents, and facing the reality of what their future could look like—and what sacrifices he’ll have to make to make it happen.

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DESTINY

Something had shifted in Derek after I told him everything. Outwardly, he was still Derek. The man who made me fall so deeply in love. But those eyes? The ones that usually held all the warmth in the world, the ones that made me feel seen? They were different now. Darker. Harder.

We hadn’t made love in days. For most people, that might not raise alarms. But for Derek? It was like a signal flare.

The man could barely go a minute without finding some way to touch me—his hand tracing the curve of my back, his lips grazing my neck like he needed to remind himself I was there, real, solid in his world. He’d pull me into him with a hunger that wasn’t just physical.

Derek didn’t just express his feelings with words; his touch was his primary language. And now?

Even though we shared the same bed, the emotional distance between us felt like an ocean. I laid there night after night, staring at the ceiling while the silence between us grew heavier.

The lack of intimacy? That was just a symptom. The fruit that had fallen from the tree of something deeper, something more dangerous that had taken root. It wasn’t just about sex. I could go without sex. But I couldn’t go without him—without the closeness, without the sense that we were still tethered to each other.

His touch wasn’t just about desire—it was his way of saying, We’re good. We’re connected. I’m here. And now, that touch had vanished, like he was slipping through my fingers.

It wasn’t just that Derek hadn’t reached for me. It was the weight behind it. Like something inside him was pulling away, withdrawing from us, from me. I could handle the physical distance, but I couldn’t handle losing him to whatever darkness was creeping in. And that’s what had me lying there, wide awake every night, with the man I loved just inches away but feeling like he was miles out of reach.

His voice cut through the quiet of the suite, sharp and cold. “Marcy, I don’t wanna hear that shit. I gotta stay out here longer than planned. Ya’ll will figure it out.”

The makeup brush I was painting my face with froze mid-stroke. That tone—it wasn’t just frustration, it was mean. Clipped. Like he was holding back something bigger. I watched him in the mirror, standing by the windows of our primary bedroom in the suite, staring out like the city held answers he couldn’t find. He’d been doing that a lot lately—lost in thought, shoulders tense.

“Derek?” I called softly, stepping into the bedroom, the familiar scent of him filling the air.

He didn’t turn around right away, just stood there, his whole body tense, fists still balled at his sides like he was fighting a war inside himself.

“We staying longer?” I asked, my voice barely steady. I could hear the unease creeping in, the question hanging heavy in the air.

“Yeah.” He didn’t even look at me at first, just hung up on Marcy mid-sentence while she was yelling, before finally turning to face me. His expression was unreadable, locked up tight. “Gotta handle some things.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding hard in my chest, a sinking feeling settling deep inside me. “What things?” I asked, my voice small, almost afraid of the answer.

“Business,” he muttered, his jaw tight, like that one word was supposed to explain everything. But it didn’t. It just made the space between us feel even colder, more distant.

I took a step closer, but he didn’t move. Just stood there, staring past me like he was trying to push me out of the conversation, out of whatever was eating at him. His body was still, but the tension rippled through him, like he was holding himself back, keeping the storm contained.

“Talk to me,” I whispered, my voice trembling, barely louder than a breath. “Please.”

His eyes flicked down to mine, and for just a second, I saw something—something that looked like him. A flicker of the Derek I knew. But then it vanished, swallowed up by the cold distance that had settled between us. He let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through his locs, his movements restless.

“Talk to me,” I said again, staring up at him, feeling the space between us like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. “Please, Derek.”

“What you wanna talk about, Destiny?” His voice was low, almost a growl.

“The way you’ve been acting these past couple days,” I started, my own voice shaking, “this is exactly what I was scared of. You said you wouldn’t judge me—”

“I’m not judging you, Princess.” The way he said it, sharp and clipped, told me he was fighting something. Holding it in.

“Then why are you treating me like this?” My words spilled out, thick with frustration and the fear that I was losing him.

He stopped pacing and turned to face me, his jaw clenched tight. “I’m handling it,” he said, the words coming out rough, like gravel under his breath. But there was something in his eyes, something that told me he wasn’t convincing either of us.

I stepped closer, feeling the heat between us, the anger and pain swirling like a storm ready to break. “No, you’re not. What exactly do you think you’re handling? You’re pulling away from me, and I need you to let me in. I need you, Derek.”

He blinked, his chest rising and falling hard, the muscles in his neck straining. “I’m trying,” he whispered, barely audible now. His hands trembled as they clenched at his sides, and for a moment, it looked like he might break. Just for a moment.

I whispered. “I need you to be with me.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his expression filled with love, pain, and something darker. Then he took a step back, putting space between us again. “I can’t... not until I make it right.”

I stood there, watching him retreat into that place where I couldn’t reach him, and I realized, for the first time, that maybe love wasn’t going to be enough to pull him back.

“I told you I’m safe now,” I said, my voice trembling as I tried to hold it together. “You don’t have to—”

“I do!” Derek’s voice cracked like a whip, sharp and sudden, slicing through the air between us. I flinched, my body recoiling from the force of his anger. His eyes flashed with instant regret, but the fire beneath them hadn’t died down. It was still burning, simmering just below the surface. “I have to, Des. I told you I’m not asking permission to take care of you. In any way. Period.”

“And what about us, Derek?” My voice shook, barely more than a whisper, cracking under the weight of it all. “What about right now?”

“What about it?” he growled, his voice rough, raw, like it was scraping against something inside him. “What am I doing wrong?”

The pain in his voice was almost unbearable, ripping through the air between us. I could see the guilt eating him alive, twisting him into something I barely recognized. He wasn’t just angry. He was breaking, unraveling right in front of me.

I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to pull him back from the edge he was teetering on. But the distance between us felt like an ocean, and I was losing him—slowly, piece by piece. And the worst part? I didn’t know how to stop it.

“You’re spiraling,” I whispered, my words coming out in a broken plea. “Please, Derek. Don’t let this destroy us.”

He looked at me, his eyes dark and stormy, filled with a pain so deep it felt endless. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought I’d reached him. But then he shook his head, stepping back like he needed space to breathe. Like I was too much.

He shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t understand, Des. I can’t turn this off. I can’t stop feeling like I failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me,” I said, the ache in my chest so deep it hurt to speak.

“That doesn’t change the fact that it happened, Des. You went through hell, and I wasn’t there to stop it. That’s on me. I should’ve been there.”

“You couldn’t have known—” I started, but he cut me off, his voice sharp, almost desperate.

“I should’ve known!” He slammed his fist against the wall, the sound echoing through the room, making me jump.

Tears welled in my eyes, a tightness in my chest making it hard to breathe as I watched him unravel right in front of me. Derek was slipping, his rage and guilt pulling him further into a place I couldn’t reach. I stepped closer, my hand trembling as I reached out, my fingers lightly brushing his arm. He flinched, muscles tense beneath my touch, but he didn’t pull away. I held onto that—a small crack in the armor he’d been building around himself.

“Derek,” I whispered, my voice breaking but steady enough to cut through the storm raging inside him. “Whatever you think you need to do—it’s not gonna rewrite the past. It won’t. It’s only gonna tear you apart.”

He whipped around, his eyes blazing, dark and wild like he was on the edge of something dangerous. “Destiny, this ain’t just about the past. There are people coming for you now. Today.” His words hit the air like gunshots, each one sharper than the last. “The pictures. The extortion. Eden working in that club like she didn’t have a choice. Or did you forget about that?”

I shook my head, but he didn’t stop. The fire in him was too hot, burning too fierce.

“You think it’s over just cause nothing happened?” His voice dropped, low and rough, and the way he said it almost scared me, like he wasn’t Derek anymore. “If Keem didn’t spot Eden that night in the club, who knows what could’ve happened to her. To you.”

“But it didn’t,” I whispered, the words tasting bitter even as I said them. I was grasping for something, anything to pull him back, to ground him. “Nothing happened.”

His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides like he was barely holding it all together. “Cause I’m not letting it happen,” he growled, his voice thick with something dark, something heavy. “I’m gonna take care of it. Take care of you.”

The way he said it—it wasn’t a promise. It was a warning. A vow wrapped in steel, and it made my skin crawl because it didn’t feel like the Derek I knew. This wasn’t love driving him anymore; it was something else. Something that scared me more than I wanted to admit.

I could see it in his eyes, the way they flickered with anger, with a need for control, and I realized in that moment—he wasn’t just protecting me. He was trying to bury his own guilt, his own helplessness, by fighting battles that didn’t need fighting. Battles that could end up destroying both of us.

“Derek,” I said again, softer this time, pleading. “This isn’t you. Don’t do this. Not like this.”

But the way he looked at me—the intensity, the desperation—told me he was too far gone to hear it. Too far gone to stop now.

He stepped forward, closing the space between us, his hands gripping my shoulders, pulling me into him like he was holding on for dear life.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice raw, broken. “I won’t.”

I pressed my forehead to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my skin, the tension still coiled tight in his body.

“You won’t lose me,” I whispered back, but even as I said it, I wasn’t sure if it was true. “But you’re losing yourself.”

His grip on me tightened, his fingers trembling against my skin. And in that moment, I felt just how close he was to the edge. This wasn’t just about protecting me. This was about him trying to make up for something he thought he should’ve done. Something he thought he’d lost.

And I didn’t know if I could save him from it.

His voice broke the silence, sharp and distant. “What did you decide about the house, Des? The realtor’s waiting, and we can’t hold it any longer.”

I looked up at him in shock.

“Now you’re gonna change the subject?” I whispered, the words bitter on my tongue. “I wish I hadn’t told you anything.”

His expression didn’t change. Blank. Emotionless.

I let go of him, pulling back like his touch had burned me. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I folded into myself, the weight of everything pressing down on my chest.

“Maybe we should hold off on the house,” I suggested, my voice shaky but steady enough to make the point.

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

“You’re stressed,” I said, glancing up at him, hoping he’d see how much this was breaking me. “It’s not a good time. We still have my place, and—”

“We’re not living Juniper,” he interrupted, his tone final, like he’d already made up his mind.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice calm. “I was gonna say, you have other places. We don’t have to decide right now.”

“I didn’t want to take you to live in my bachelor pads, Princess,” he said, his voice soft but edged with frustration. “I want us to have a home. A real home to start our life together, raise a family. Hell, you might even be pregnant now, what if there’s a baby coming in a few months?”

That hit me like a slap. I stood up, frustration bubbling over, spilling out. “Well, actually, Derek, you haven’t touched me since I told you everything, so I really doubt that’s the case.”

Silence.

The words I’d thrown out hung in the air, sharp and jagged, cutting into the fragile thread holding us together. Derek’s face darkened, the frustration rolling off him in waves.

“That’s what you’re thinking about? Now I’m not giving you enough dick?” His voice was low, sarcastic, like a storm about to break as he chuckled. “I can’t have some time to process life-changing information? You just need me to whip it out and not feel anything about what you told me? I shouldn’t be angry, confused, shocked, sad? Nothing?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—” I started, but he cut me off, his words sharp, almost wounded.

“I’m not trying to make this about me, Des. I just need you to understand how much I love you. How connected I am to you that I feel everything you feel, baby. It’s fucked up what happened to you. I hate that you had to make that split-second decision to do what you did, and it’s killing me that I wasn’t there for you that night and after to take care of you while you carried that shit. It’s a lot to take in. Sorry my main priority right now ain’t fucking you.”

His words hit me like a slap, and I flinched, blinking away the tears that stung the back of my eyes. “It’s not about fucking me, Derek. It’s about you being here. Present.”

“I have been here,” he snapped, his voice cracking through the air like a whip. “Every damn day. We’ve been watching movies, going to dinner, chillin’ with our families—”

“But you’re not really here, Derek!” I interrupted, my voice shaking, the frustration finally boiling over. “You’re physically here, but emotionally? You’re a million miles away. And I’m trying, I’m trying to reach you, but it feels like you’re slipping further away every second.”

He turned his back on me, running his hands over his face like he was trying to scrub away the anger, trying to hold himself together.

“You think I don’t want you?” he muttered, his voice low, rough like gravel. “You think I’m pulling away ‘cause I don’t want this? Don’t want you?”

I bit my lip, hard enough to taste blood, because the truth was sitting there on the edge of my tongue, threatening to spill out.

“I don’t know anymore, Derek,” I whispered, my voice barely holding together. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head because you won’t let me in.”

He turned then, his eyes dark and stormy, filled with a frustration that looked like it was about to break him in half.

Tears burned my eyes, but I held them back.

“I’ll fix it,” he said, his voice hardening again, locking away whatever vulnerability had just slipped through.

I stood there, staring at him, wanting to fight for us, for everything we had. But I could see it in his eyes—this battle wasn’t just mine anymore. It was his. And until he finished it, until he buried whatever was haunting him, we’d be stuck here, in this place where love wasn’t enough to heal the wounds.

A sudden knock at the door echoed through the suite, cutting through the tension like a signal. My mom. Of course, she’d arrive right in the middle of this mess.

"Dinner’s all set up for you and your mom at Castillos," Derek said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. The warmth of his lips lingered for a beat, but it didn’t sink in—not like it used to. Not like I needed it to. "The driver will take you, and security will be with you. Aight? Have fun," he murmured, his voice calm, casual, like we weren’t standing on the edge of something about to shatter. Like the cracks in us weren’t getting deeper with each passing second.

I swallowed hard, a lump tightening in my throat, thick with the frustration that had been building for days. As much as I loved my mom, dinner was the last thing I wanted right now. I didn’t have it in me to fake a smile, to laugh over appetizers like my world wasn’t falling apart. I didn’t want to sit at some fancy table, pretending I wasn’t drowning in the space Derek kept putting between us.

I just wanted him to see me.

I just needed him to stop walking away from me—from us.

"Derek..." I started, my voice barely above a whisper, but he was already turning, already moving toward the door like nothing was wrong. Like the foundation of everything we’d built wasn’t crumbling beneath our feet.

He paused, his hand resting on the doorframe, his back to me, tension rippling through his broad shoulders. "We’ll talk when you get back, aight?" His voice was low, almost too low, like he couldn’t bring himself to say more. Like if he looked at me, all the walls he’d been trying to hold up would come crashing down.

But I didn’t want to wait until later. Didn’t want to keep pushing everything off like the pieces of us weren’t slipping through our fingers.

"Derek," I tried again, stepping toward him, reaching out, but my hand fell short, the space between us feeling too wide, too cold.

"Go eat with your mom, Des. I’ll be here when you’re back." His tone was firm, final, and it made something in me ache—ache in a way that told me this wasn’t just about dinner. This was about everything we weren’t saying. Everything we couldn’t face.

“I’m heading out,” he continued, his voice too damn calm for how raw everything felt. “Maybe y’all can talk about the wedding. Start putting something in motion.”

The word hit me like a punch, the weight of it twisting in my gut. A wedding? How could we plan a future when we couldn’t even survive the present?

“Just go, Derek,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper as my head dropped, my eyes now focused on the floor.

He paused, and for a second, I thought he might stay. Might fight. But then I heard his footsteps, heavy and deliberate, fading away as he walked out the door, greeting my mom before he left.

I stood there, staring at the empty space where he’d been, my chest tightening with all the things I couldn’t say. And the tears—God, the tears I’d been holding back—were right there, threatening to spill over.

“Destiny, I’m here!” my mom’s voice floated through the suite, pulling me out of the fog I’d been drifting in.

I sucked in a sharp breath, the weight of everything pressing against my chest. "Just a sec, Ma!” I called, my voice shaking more than I wanted. I speed-walked to the bathroom, closing the door shut behind me, the cold tile beneath my feet grounding me for a moment.

The mirror stared back at me, and I barely recognized the woman in the reflection. With a shaky hand, I grabbed my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen before I pressed the call button.

It rang once before I heard his voice on the other end, low and steady like it always was. “Destiny?”

The sound of his voice hit me, and I felt the dam inside me crack. I swallowed hard, trying to keep it together, but the tears were right there, threatening to spill over and ruin the makeup I worked so hard on, since I didn’t want to invite the makeup artist up into the tension.

“Ant,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. It took everything I had not to break right there on the spot.

“Talk to me, Des. What’s goin’ on?”

I closed my eyes, gripping the counter with my free hand as if it could somehow keep me from unraveling. The cool marble was the only thing keeping me grounded in that moment.

“It’s… it’s Derek.” My voice cracked, betraying the storm brewing beneath the surface. “He’s pulling away from me, and I don’t know what to do.”

“You know what it is, Des. He’s hurtin’. Hell, I’d be worried if he wasn’t feeling some type of way about what you told him. He’s angry, he’s feeling guilty, and now… he don’t know how to look at you without seein’ that night playin’ over and over in his mind.”

I pressed the phone tighter to my ear, my throat burning as I tried to fight back the sob that was clawing its way up. “I know, Ant. I know, but I’m losing him. He’s here, but he’s not here, you know? It’s like there’s this wall between us, and I can’t break through it. No matter what I say, he won’t let me in.”

Ant sighed, the sound heavy with the kind of weariness that comes from years of knowing too much. “Men like Derek and me? We don’t just let shit go, Des. We don’t know how to. It sits in us like poison, eatin’ away at everything good ‘til we don’t even recognize ourselves anymore. Not our best quality but, it’s a Harris thing for sure.”

His words hit me hard, a truth I wasn’t ready to face but couldn’t ignore.

“Then what do I do?” My voice broke, the desperation seeping through every syllable. “How do I reach him?”

There was a pause on the other end, like he was weighing his words carefully, knowing that whatever he said next could tip me one way or the other. “He’s gonna come back to you, Des, just give him a minute.”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me, the tears finally spilling over, hot and relentless as they streaked down my face. “I’m scared,” I admitted, my voice a fragile whisper.

“I know,” Ant said, his voice softening in that way only he could. “But you’re stronger than this. You’ve survived worse. Derek he’s just…he’s lost in the dark right now.”

I sniffed, wiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“You won’t,” he said firmly. “But you gotta give him time. Let him wrestle with his demons. And when he’s ready, you be there, arms open, ready to pull him back.”

His words settled into me like a balm, soothing some of the ache that had been gnawing at me for days. I nodded again, my grip loosening on the counter. “Okay,” I whispered, my voice steadier now. “Okay.”

“And Des?” Ant’s voice dropped lower, more serious now. “Don’t forget to take care of yourself, too. You can’t help him if you’re breakin’ apart in the process.”

I took a deep breath, letting his words wash over me. He was right. I had to hold on, for Derek, for us… but also for me.

“Thanks, Ant,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

“Anytime, Des. Anytime.”

As I hung up, I took one last look in the mirror. My reflection stared back at me—stronger, more resolute. I wasn’t gonna lose Derek. Not like this. I just had to find a way to reach him, even if it meant waiting for him to come back to me on his own.

But for now… I had to put a smile on my face and go have lunch with my mother.

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DEREK

When I was a kid, always stressing my folks out with all the fights, the suspensions, all the bullshit, my Grandfather used to come get me. He’d pull up, quiet, just him and that old Lincoln, and we’d head up to the lookout. That was our thing. Just us, a blunt, and oldies playing low from the car radio. It’s how I got my head straight when the weight of the world felt like it was crushing my chest, too tight to breathe. He understood me, in a way no one else did, and we’d sit there in silence, watching the town below, letting the smoke and the music do the talking.

Now here I was, in that same spot, leaning against Destiny’s Accord, lighting up a fat spliff, the thick smoke curling in the night air. The Temprees’ "Dedicated to the One I Love" poured out of the speakers, that old-school sound vibrating through the air, and I took a long pull, letting the smoke hit my lungs, feeling that familiar calm wash over me.

But tonight wasn’t like those nights with Pop-Pop. Nah, tonight was different. Darker.

I looked out over Juniper as the music played, and the city was on fire. Literal flames licking the sky, lighting up the night with an orange glow that reflected off the clouds like some apocalyptic shit. The sirens, the red and blue lights flashing, chaos. I watched it all, calm as hell, the blunt burning slow between my fingers.

I did this.

I brought hell to Juniper, just like I told Destiny I would.

The smoke trailed from my lips as I exhaled, the heat from the flames in the distance mixing with the cool breeze on my skin. It felt…right.

“Shit looks like a movie,” Hakeem’s voice cut through the night as he came up beside me, blowing out his own cloud of smoke. His eyes were wide, taking in the destruction.

I chuckled, low and dark, shaking my head as I stared at the wreckage. “Fuck it,” I muttered, that sinister grin creeping onto my face. “Juniper police needed something to do, right?”

I took another hit, the fire burning in the distance matching the heat building in my chest. This was personal. For Destiny, for everything she’d been through, for the pain she carried that nobody saw but me.

“Let it burn,” I said quietly, my eyes never leaving the flames.

Photo by Adam Wilson on Unsplash

When I told Destiny I had business to handle, I wasn’t just saying it to sound hard. I meant every single word. I left her at the suite, kissed her on the forehead, and made my way to the bay, heart steady, mind clear. Dorian had a yacht docked there, tucked away like he always did when he was moving quiet. The sun was dipping low, setting the sky on fire with streaks of orange and pink, but I wasn’t here for the view. I had work to do, and loose ends to cut.

Stepping onto the deck, it hit me—the weight of everything. That cold, heavy feeling in your gut when you know what you’re about to do might be the last domino that sends the whole thing crashing down. But I was ready for that. I’d been ready.

Dorian wasn’t the type to drag shit out with small talk, so the second I sat down, he got straight to it. No sugarcoating, no bullshit, just the raw truth. He laid it all out in front of me, every piece of the puzzle, every move that had been made behind the scenes. The shit he told me? It was bigger than I ever imagined.

I leaned back, letting the weight of his words settle in, my eyes scanning the darkening water around us.

“Arnold, is the one to watch between him and Johnathon,” Dorian’s voice was cold, smooth like a blade slicing through the tension in the room. He wasn’t giving opinions; these were cold, hard facts. “The money he’s trying to squeeze outta Destiny? Man’s drowning in debt—his strip club’s bleeding money. But it’s not the financial shit that makes him dangerous. It’s what’s going on behind the scenes at that club.”

I leaned in, jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. "Like what?"

Dorian didn’t even blink, didn’t flinch. "Prostitution. And not just the usual kinda hustle.”

I saw Keem shift in his seat, uncomfortable like the weight of what Dorian was saying was too much to sit with.

Dorian leaned in, his eyes colder than I’d ever seen them. “Arnold’s using that club to wash drug money. And he’s not just moving product—he’s getting the girls hooked. Keeps ‘em high as a kite so they’ll go along with whatever he needs them to do. Once they’re hooked, they’ll do anything. And I mean anything, to keep that next hit coming.”

Keem swallowed hard beside me, his discomfort clear as day. I could feel his nerves rattling, and I didn’t blame him. This wasn’t some petty scam. Arnold was a predator, plain and simple, ruining lives to save his own skin. And now he was threatening to use that same darkness, that same evil, against Destiny.

Dorian stood up, smirking like he was about to drop a bomb, walking over to the bar and pouring himself a drink. He took his time, savoring the moment like he knew what was coming next was gonna hit us hard. “And here’s the kicker—you’ll never guess whose drugs and money he’s washing through the club.”

Keem shifted again, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to brace for impact. “Man, I already know this about to be some bullshit.”

Dorian chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink before dropping the hammer. “Johnathon’s father.”

Me and Keem just stared at each other, both of us caught off guard.

“Not the pastor, the community leader?” Hakeem muttered, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You gotta be kidding me.”

I shook my head, feeling the pieces start to click together. “Fake ass Preacher.”

Dorian nodded, taking another sip, calm as ever. “Yup, man’s been running a whole drug operation out of Juniper. Stash houses all over town. He’s got product moving in Westonberry, and other cities. And all that dirty money? Goes right through his church and Arnold’s strip club. The whole damn thing’s a front.”

I clenched my jaw, fury rolling through me as the picture started to form. “So that’s how Arnold and Johnathon know each other. It’s all connected.”

Dorian nodded, setting his glass down on the bar with a soft clink, his eyes steady and cold. "Exactly. Arnold’s been running his club like a front for the drug money, while Johnathon’s daddy hides behind the pulpit, preaching like he’s holier than thou. Meanwhile, they’re using Destiny’s trauma, weaponizing those pictures like it’s some kind of bargaining chip."

I sucked my teeth, leaning back in my chair, sinking deeper into the growing weight of the situation.

“It’s wild,” Dorian continued, “cause Johnathon ain’t even in his father’s drug mess. He’s clean—squeaky. But what dragged him into this whole situation is that broken heart over Destiny and that bruised ego you gave him, Derek. He put this in motion, dragged Arnold into it, because he knows he ain’t built for this life. Dude’s way in over his head, and he knows it. I saw it in the texts I hacked."

“Fuck him,” I snapped, my tone ice cold. “He put Destiny and Eden in the line of fire. I don’t give a damn about how he feels, how hard he’s hurting over Destiny. That don’t mean shit to me.”

Keem shifted beside me, trying to reason. “Come on, D. Johnathon ain’t no criminal mastermind. He probably didn’t even know how deep Arnold was into all this—”

“I’m not tryna hear it,” I cut him off, my voice sharp enough to slice through the room.

Keem shook his head, still processing everything, but I could see that look in his eyes—the one that said he was riding with me, no matter what. “Fuck it, man. You know I’m on what you on. These fools playin’ wit fire.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, my voice low, lethal, like a storm building on the horizon. “And they’re about to get burned.”

Burning the Pastor’s stash houses—and his so-called church—wasn’t part of the original plan. Nah, I didn’t have to do it. But this wasn’t about what had to be done, this was about what I wanted to do. Call it personal enjoyment. Off the strength that I hated his son, sure, but there was something else, something about hypocrites that just rubbed me the wrong way. Pastor Lyman, my ass. Walking around pretending to be a man of God while he was out here pushing poison into the same community he claimed to be "saving"? Talking about "helping the youth" while he pushed to get my performance canceled? Fake ass Farrakhan.

And yeah, I could give him some props for leveling up from pushing dimebags back when I was a kid to running a whole operation now. But credit? Nah, fuck that too.

I stood at the lookout, leaning against Destiny’s car, watching the flames devour his empire. The glow from the blaze lit up Juniper like some kind of twisted nightmare. His stash houses? Gone. His fake-ass holy ground? Ashes. I was calm, almost peaceful as I watched it all burn.

"Found the pictures?" My voice was low, sharp, cutting through the night like the fire down below.

Hakeem took a slow pull from his spliff, still staring at the inferno we’d set off. "Tore through his office before we lit his club up. He didn’t have ‘em there."

Oh yea, Arnold’s club out in Westonberry, that had to go too.

I nodded, jaw tight. "What about his house?"

Keem smirked, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "It’s too hot right now. Literally. Police everywhere."

I clenched my teeth, feeling almost relived. "I’ll handle it myself." I didn’t need Keem—or anybody else—laying eyes on naked pictures of my woman. That was for me to take care of, nobody else.

Hakeem exhaled a cloud of smoke into the air, the smell of burning weed and burning buildings mixing together. "So, what’s next? We paying these fools a visit or what?"

I didn’t answer right away. Just kept watching the flames touch the sky, flickering in the windows of the city like it was some kind of living hell. My hell. That sinister smile crept up on my face again, satisfaction settling deep in my chest.

"Nah," I finally said, my voice calm but laced with something dark. "Let ‘em sweat for a bit. No rush."

I took a slow drag from the blunt, savoring the moment. The smoke curled around me like a protective cloak, while the fire burned below. This was my masterpiece, my chaos, and it felt... right. But I had business at home to tend to.

Destiny was waiting, and we were in a place I didn’t like. A place I put us in. Not because I morally gave a damn about her catching a body—I knew she did what she had to do. I was proud of her, maybe even a little turned on. Nah, that wasn’t what kept me up at night. It was the why. Why she had to do it, and all the shit that came with it.

I hadn’t been there. That was what gutted me. She’d been alone, scared, with no one to protect her to the point where she had to call my broher. And now? Arnold, that snake, was threatening to go to the cops, release those damn pictures he had no business taking in the first place. Johnathon out there making deals with the devil himself just to get his lick back. It was too much. Too much for any man to take in and not feel like the world was crumbling beneath his feet.

And yeah, I knew I was switching up. I did my best to stay calm, keep it together, but the truth was I was failing. I could feel it, feel myself acting different. Distant. And it was killing Destiny. I could see it in her eyes every time I looked at her. She was frustrated, confused, and I hated that. I hated the way we’d been arguing, that we were snapping at each other when we should’ve been holding on tight. That wasn’t us.

I knew, deep down, I had to get right. For her. For us. I had to fix this, had to find a way back to the man I used to be before all this madness took hold.

Destiny deserved that. Hell, we both deserved that peace, but I had to be the one to bring it. No more running, no more hiding behind smoke and fire. I had to face this. Face us. Because if I didn’t?

I’d lose her. And losing her? That wasn’t something I was willing to live with.

I took one last pull from the blunt, the smoke swirling around me like ghosts of all the shit I’d burned down tonight.

"This is dedicated to the one I love..."

The Temprees' voices floated on the night air, the lyrics hitting me like a reminder of why I did it, why I’d burn the whole damn world down if I had to. I wasn’t just out here causing chaos for the fun of it, though I couldn’t lie—it felt good. But this? This destruction, this hell I’d unleashed?

It was dedicated to her. Every move I made, every fire I lit, every life I was about to ruin was for Destiny.

“For the one I love,” I murmured, my voice barely audible over the music, but the weight of those words? They were heavy, like a promise.

And I wasn’t done yet.

When I dapped up security and stepped into the suite, the tension hit me like a right hook—sharp, unshakable. Destiny stood in front of those floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, her silhouette framed against the burning chaos in the distance. Right then, I was damn grateful we were here in Westonberry—close enough to handle business, far enough to keep her safe.

The fires danced on the horizon like something out of a war zone. They weren’t too close to home, but just close enough to remind me what I’d set in motion. My family was straight, Dorian had already handled Destiny’s people, made sure they were out of harm's way. Still, standing there, knowing I’d lit the match, that I’d been the spark behind all that destruction, there was a thrill running through my veins I couldn’t deny.

"Juniper is burning," she whispered, her voice soft, like it was a secret meant only for the fire and me. Her hands pressed flat against the glass, fingers spread wide, almost like she could reach out and grab hold of the flames. She didn’t turn around. Didn’t need to. She knew I was there.

I moved in closer, the heat of the flames outside nothing compared to the fire inside me, fueled by everything we’d been through. Everything I’d done. Watching that city burn, knowing I was the reason it was going up in smoke for her—there was something raw, something primal in that.

Dark? Yeah, sure. Twisted? Probably. But I’d made peace with the darkness in me a long time ago. Hell, it was that same darkness that kept me going, that pushed me to do what needed to be done. Every wrong that had been done to her, every tear she cried, every ounce of pain she carried... it fed that fire in me.

And tonight, I was burning it all down for her.

In the reflection of the glass, I saw it all. Her dark eyes were stormy, her jaw tight like she was grinding her teeth, lips pressed into a thin line like she was swallowing a scream. I knew her mind was running through every scar, every bruise, every betrayal. Every wound that had shaped her into the woman she was. And all that pain? It was going up in flames right in front of her.

“Did you hurt anybody?” she asked, her voice soft, barely above a whisper, but the weight of that question sliced through the room like a blade.

I didn’t flinch. “Not yet,” I said, my voice low, raw. No hesitation, no room for doubt. I wasn’t about to dress it up for her. I couldn’t. “But don’t ask me anything else about this, Princess. It’ll be too hard to lie to you, and I won’t do that. So don’t put me in that spot.”

She tensed, but I could feel her understanding settle in the silence between us.

“I came home to you,” I murmured, my voice carrying the weight of promises made and kept. “And I’ll always come home to you. That’s what you need to know. That’s what matters.”

I felt her breath hitch, the tension in her shoulders softening just a bit, but I wasn’t finished. I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a near growl. “The less you know, the better. Trust me on that.”

In the glass, I watched her eyes close, her eyelids squeezing shut like she could block out the truth of what I’d just said. But this was her reality now—our reality. I wasn’t going to pretend, wasn’t gonna make it pretty. This was what it was.

The TV behind us flickered, casting an eerie glow around the room as live footage from Juniper played out like something from the end of days. Flames turning the night into a hellscape. It looked like the apocalypse had touched down, and the cops were running around like ants trying to save their little hill, firefighters battling the blaze like it was personal. Reporters ducked and dodged, trying to keep themselves in the frame but out of harm’s way.

All of it—chaos, panic, desperation—it was their problem, not mine.

“When you said you’d bring Hell to Juniper, I didn’t think…” Her voice trailed off, the weight of what was happening sinking in.

I closed the space between us, my lips brushing her shoulder, planting soft kisses like they were promises carved in stone. One kiss, then another, then another, until I reached her neck, where I could feel her pulse pounding beneath her skin—fast, frantic, alive.

“If I gotta bring Hell to them to give you Heaven,” I whispered against her skin, my voice low, deadly, unapologetic, “then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

She let out a long, deep breath, her head falling back against my chest like the weight of the world was slipping off her shoulders, piece by piece. I could feel it—the tension, the burden she’d been carrying for too damn long. I hadn’t touched her like this in a minute, hadn’t been fully here with her, and I knew she needed it. Needed me. Especially now.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been with you,” I whispered, my voice rough, low, like gravel underfoot.

Slowly, deliberately, I lifted the hem of her silk nightgown, my fingers slipping into the warmth of her panties. I felt her tense, just for a second, before she melted into me, her body giving in, like she’d been waiting for this moment as much as I had.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, my fingers sliding inside her, deep and slow. My other hand gripped her waist, pulling her closer, anchoring her to me. “But I’m here now.” The words slipped out as I worked my fingers, each movement deliberate, slow, setting a rhythm that made her gasp. I didn’t rush it. I wanted her to feel every second, every touch, every damn thing I was giving her as we stood there, watching Juniper burn together.

“But Daddy had to handle some business,” I groaned at her warmness, my voice thick with intent, the words rolling out slow as I pulled her deeper into us, into this moment. Each stroke had her trembling, her breath shaky as her body surrendered to me, unraveling bit by bit. I could feel her letting go, the tension slipping away as I worked her closer to the edge.

“Derek,” she whispered, her voice trembling, like she was barely holding it together.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I murmured again, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, the heat between us simmering. I could feel her coming undone, that quiet storm brewing inside her, matching the chaos I’d left burning out there in Juniper.

“I need to feel all of you,” she breathed, her voice raw, pleading, desperation heavy in every word. “I miss you.”

My heart twisted up in my chest, knowing exactly what she meant. I’d been here, physically, but my mind? My focus? I wasn’t with her. I’d been drowning in all the other shit, acting like I was present when I knew damn well I wasn’t. And it hurt her. Hurt her in ways I didn’t even see until right now that I’d released some of my own hurt on someone else. That’s the part that burned me up inside—I never wanted to be the one who hurt my Destiny.

My breath caught as I freed myself, sliding her panties to the side with deliberate care. The second I entered her, deep and steady, a groan slipped from both of us—raw, real. That sound—her body taking mine—was like coming home. I could finally breathe again. She needed this as much as I did, and the way she gripped me, the way her breath hitched, told me this wasn’t just about the physical. It was everything we’d been holding back, all in the way we moved together.

“Don’t leave me again,” she whispered, her voice shaking, laced with that pain, that fear I knew I caused.

I could hear the weight of her words, the truth in them. She wasn’t just talking about now. She meant all the times I’d let the world pull me away from her, all the moments I drifted even when I was standing right beside her.

“I’m here, baby,” I rasped, my voice low but steady, a promise as solid as the ground beneath us. I pushed deeper, feeling her body mold to mine, like she was made for this, like we were crafted for each other. “I ain’t going nowhere. Not again. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I love you,” she cried, her voice breaking, desperate, like she needed me to know it just as bad as she needed me inside her.

“I love you too, Princess,” I growled, plunging slow and deep, each stroke driving her further into me. Her hands pressed against the glass, the fires of Juniper burning in the reflection, flickering against the window and her trembling body. “I love you so damn much.”

I could feel something burn in my chest, tears threatening to fall, but I pushed that down. No room for that right now. Instead, I gripped her tighter, my hands full of her ass. It wasn’t just about making love—it was about grounding us, putting us back together. This was more than physical; this was survival.

I could see her reflection in the glass, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, her breath hitching with every move I made. I held her tighter, blocking out the chaos of the outside world with every slow, deliberate thrust. The flames could burn Juniper to the ground, for all I cared. I’d torch the whole damn world if it meant keeping her.

“I want the house,” she gasped, her voice shaking, but there was a determination behind it. “And I want to get married there.”

“That’s what you want, baby?” I asked, my fingers working slow, teasing her clit with just enough pressure to keep her teetering on the edge.

“Yes,” she cried out, her body trembling against mine.

“Then whatever my Princess wants, my Princess gets,” I whispered, possessive, my lips grazing her neck.

“And I don’t want to wait long to get married,” she breathed, her words barely holding together.

“Me either, baby. We’ll close on that house as soon as we can, set the date based on that. What else does my baby need?” I murmured, knowing there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t give her.

Her body responded to my words before her mouth could form an answer. Her hips bucked against me, her walls tightening around me. I grinned, dark and satisfied, knowing I was giving her everything she needed.

“I need you,” she gasped, her body shaking, holding on to the last thread of control.

“I’m right here, baby. Ain’t going nowhere,” I whispered, pushing deeper, gripping her tighter, needing her to feel how real this was. “You feel that? That’s me. Always me.”

Her cries filled the room, raw and untamed, merging with the sound of sirens from the TV as firefighters scrambled to save a city I’d already turned my back on. Juniper was burning, but right now? That was background noise. This moment was all that mattered.

"You see what I did for my Destiny?" I asked, my voice low, as we both watched the flames lick the skyline.

“Yes,” she breathed, her body trembling as she tightened around me.

“That’s for you, baby. I’ll do anything for you, Destiny. Anything,” I whispered, the words heavy with devotion and something darker. “There’s no limit. You understand that?” My voice hardened with the truth of it. I didn’t just mean the fires. I meant anything.

“Yes,” she whispered, the vulnerability in her voice cutting right through me.

I felt the urge to spank her, to mark this moment with something sharp and real, but I held back. Instead, I slowed my movements, pushing deeper, feeling her body tense around me as her eyes stayed locked on the flames outside. The reflection of the fire in her eyes was hypnotic, flickering in time with the chaos I’d created for her. For us.

"Look at it, baby," I whispered, my lips brushing against her ear, my voice low and dangerous. "Ain’t nobody ever gonna hurt you again. I’ll make sure of that.”

She damn near squealed, her body arching back into me as I picked up the pace, pushing her closer to the edge.

"That’s it," I growled, my grip tightening, the darkness rising in me as I watched her unravel. "Let it out. Watch it burn and let go."

With a final cry, her body shattered around me, her release dripping down my thigh as the fire outside blazed on. She was making a fucking mess as she laughed, "Maybe Keem was right," she said, her voice shaking through a tearful smile. "We’re both psycho."

I smirked, dark and raw. “Nah, baby. We’re just made for each other,” I explained, thrusting deeper, feeling her pull me closer, her body tightening around mine like she was trying to keep every bit of me inside her.

“Derek,” she whispered, her laugh now a sob.

I leaned down, lips brushing along the curve of her shoulder, my breath hot against her skin. “That’s it, baby. Take it all. It’s yours,” I whispered, feeling the weight of everything—her release, her need, her trust.

Her breath hitched, and I could feel her pulse quicken beneath my lips. “I need to see you,” she murmured, her voice soft but desperate, like she needed more than just my touch. She needed to look me in the eyes, to see me, to feel me.

I pulled out, my body aching from the loss of her, but not for long. I turned her around in one swift motion, picking her up, her legs wrapping tight around me as I re-entered her, pressing her back against the cool glass. Her body tensed, and she hissed as I filled her again, the sound sending a jolt of electricity through my spine.

My face was buried in the crook of her neck, her scent grounding me, calming the storm that had been brewing inside me for weeks. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, holding on like I was her lifeline. But when she spoke, it wasn’t just her usual moans or whispers. This was different.

“Thank you, baby,” she breathed, her voice carrying a weight I hadn’t heard before. It made me pause. Made me lift my head and look at her, really look at her. She held my face, her fingers tracing the lines of my jaw as I kept moving inside her, slow and deliberate. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and for a moment, everything around us—Juniper, the fires, the chaos—disappeared. It was just us. Just her.

She locked her gaze on mine, her voice barely a whisper, “I need you to look at me, see me.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, and I didn’t even realize until she wiped one away that I was crying too.

“Destiny,” I choked out, my voice breaking. I was fucking crying, but I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop plunging into her, couldn’t stop giving her what she needed, even though my heart was breaking with every thrust. Because in that moment, all I could see were the images burned into my mind—Destiny fighting Jake—images I tried to smoke away every day behind her back.

She held my face tighter, her touch gentle, her words soothing, taking me back to the present as she saw me slipping away. “I’m right here, Derek. Safe in your arms. You’re making me feel so good. I’m not scared. I’m right here. You’re all I need.”

Her words shattered me. The way she read me, knowing what I needed to hear, understanding the fear I had been carrying. I’d been terrified—terrified to touch her, terrified to hurt her again after everything she’d been through, after everything she told me.

It didn’t make sense; I knew that. She gave me permission to end her celibacy, to be with her fully, and we’d been having fun. Not once had she shown fear or hesitation with me. Not once had she said I pushed too far. That was all in my head—me, overthinking, overanalyzing, trapped in my own guilt.

But right now, she was telling me I was enough. That I wasn’t hurting her, that I was healing her. And that? That was everything. Her eyes, glossy with emotion, locked on mine, and she nodded, her hands holding my face like she was anchoring me. Like she was afraid if she let go, I’d slip away again.

“I won’t leave again, okay?” I pleaded, my voice raw, almost desperate. “I didn’t see it before. The way I was moving, trying to protect you…it was doing the opposite. I was so fucking wrong. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I need you, Derek,” she whispered, her voice cracking, full of pain and longing that cut through me like a blade. “I’ll always need you. Please, don’t shut me out again. Please…”

Her words, her plea—it broke something inside me. The weight of it, the way she was begging for me, tore through me in ways I hadn’t even let myself feel until that moment.

“Fuck!” I growled, my frustration at everything—the situation, the guilt, the love I had for her—all crashing down at once. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand the thought of being the reason she was hurting, the reason she felt alone.

I couldn’t to be gentle anymore, afraid she’d break. I needed her—needed us to be connected in a way that left no space between us. With one swift motion, I walked us over to the couch, never pulling out, sinking deeper into her as I laid her down. The need to be further inside her, to be in her skin, consumed me. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop it. I needed to feel her in every way, needed to be one with her, like we could fuse together and nothing could tear us apart.

Her nails dug into my back, and the way she rasped into my neck, her voice thick with want and desperation, set me on fire.

“That’s it! There’s my Derek,” she gasped, her words a lifeline pulling me out of whatever darkness had gripped me for so long. “I can take it, Derek. I need all of you.”

With every hard stroke, with every deep thrust, I felt the wall I’d built around myself start to crumble. The harder I went, the louder she got, like we were tearing down everything that had come between us. This was us, raw and real, no barriers, no fear. Just us.

“Come back to me, Derek,” she begged, her voice trembling, breath hitching in her chest. Her words hit me like a lifeline, pulling me from the edge of the darkness I’d been drowning in for too long. “That’s it… Oh God!” she screamed, her body tightening around me, her nails digging into my back like she was trying to hold me together.

I gritted my teeth, the fire between us burning hotter than anything outside those windows.

“I’m right here, baby,” I finally rasped, my forehead pressed to hers, every thrust deliberate, like I was carving us into something new, something whole. “I’m not going anywhere. I swear to God, I’m not leaving you again.”

Her breath was ragged, her eyes wide and searching mine, like she needed to see the truth in them, like she needed that confirmation in every part of me.

“Promise me,” she whispered, her voice fragile but fierce at the same time. “Promise me you’ll always come back. No more shutting me out.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her words, the depth of her need.

“I promise, Destiny,” I said, my voice cracking with the intensity of it all. “I’ll never leave you again. Not in my mind, not in my heart. I’m yours. Always yours.”

She moaned, her body responding to every word, every motion, like she could feel the truth of what I was saying, like she could feel the way I was pouring every bit of myself into her.

“You’re my home,” she whispered, her hands sliding up to cup my face, her eyes locking onto mine. “I need you, Derek. I need all of you, not just pieces. Don’t leave me with pieces. I need you to stay.”

“I’m staying,” I whispered against her lips, kissing her slow and deep, the same way I was moving inside her. “I’m staying right here. Forever.”

And just like that, I felt her unravel beneath me, her body trembling, surrendering to every touch, every word. She wasn’t just coming undone—she was giving herself to me completely, and I was right there with her. My breath hitched, a deep, guttural sound tearing from my chest as my body jerked, the release so intense it felt like the air around us shifted. My arms wrapped around her tighter, holding her close like she was the only thing keeping me tethered to this world. And maybe she was.

I buried my face in her neck, breathing in her scent, her essence, feeling her pulse beneath my lips as I whispered her name. The heat between us wasn’t just physical—it was something primal, something that burned through everything we were, fusing us together in a way that made the chaos outside seem small, irrelevant. The fires raging in Juniper couldn’t compare to the blaze we’d ignited right here, in this moment.

I held her like I’d lose myself without her, like letting her go wasn’t an option. And it wasn’t. Not for me. Not ever.

The world outside? Didn’t mean shit. Not when the only thing that mattered was the heat between us, burning hotter, brighter than anything else.

I could feel her heartbeat against my chest, her breath shaky and ragged, matching mine as we came down from that high together. I kissed her shoulder, slow and deliberate.

"All that matters," I murmured against her skin, my voice raw, full of conviction, "is us."

Everything else—Juniper burning, the mess I’d made—it all faded into the background. Right here, right now, in this moment, it was just her and me. The fire outside had nothing on the flames burning between us, nothing on the way we were breaking and rebuilding each other with every breath, every touch.

And I knew, deep down, we were finding out way back. Back to each other. Back to where we were supposed to be.

Because this wasn’t just love. This was destiny.