24.

▪──── ⚔ ────▪

4 months later

I hadn't even been in Louisiana for a full 24 hours before the guard came knocking on my cell door.

"Allen," he barked. "You're out."

I sat up slowly, letting his words settle over me. I stared at him for a second, searching his face for any sign of a joke, a trick, a reason to doubt him.

Nothing.

Just a blank expression and the impatient shift of his weight from one foot to the other.

I smiled.

Not big. Not wide. Just enough to show my teeth, to let him know that whatever strings had been pulled, whatever deal had been made, I was more than ready to take my leave.

I stood, stretching my arms above my head before grabbing the few possessions I had—a small pile of shit that barely meant anything, but it was mine.

As they led me down the hall, the eyes of other inmates followed me, some whispering, some just watching. I knew what they were thinking.

How the fuck did she get out so fast?

I wasn't even questioning it.

I already knew.

Siren's name still rang out.

Even dead, even gone, my father's weight still moved mountains. And the people still loyal to him? The ones still standing?

They made shit happen.

When I stepped outside, the first thing that hit me was the air—hot, thick, heavy with the kind of humidity that stuck to your skin like syrup. The sky was the same kind of Louisiana blue I remembered, but everything else felt... off.

Maybe because I had spent the last few months trapped in a place that made you forget the world was still moving without you.

There was a black car waiting just outside the gates, sleek and polished like it had never touched a damn speck of dust. The driver stepped out as soon as he saw me, dressed in a crisp black suit like he was escorting somebody important.

"Ms. Serenity," he said, opening the back door. "Your aunt and uncle are waiting for you."

I sighed, rolling my neck before stepping inside.

Bullshit.

I already knew how this was gonna go.

They weren't waiting for me because they gave a damn.

They were waiting for me because they wanted something.

I kicked my feet up in the back of the car, stretching out like I had nowhere to be, like I hadn't just walked out of a damn prison cell. The driver didn't say much—just kept his eyes on the road, hands at ten and two like he had something to prove.

The drive wasn't long, but it gave me time to take in the city again, the way Louisiana still moved even after all these years. The same streets, the same corners, the same people hustling like the world owed them something. Some things never changed.

When we finally pulled up to the mansion, I had to do a double take.

I knew my aunt and uncle were sitting on money, but I didn't expect this.

The place looked like it had been ripped straight out of one of those rich-people magazines—tall gates, marble steps, pillars holding up a front porch big enough to fit a damn wedding party. The yard was cut too neat, like the grass wasn't even real.

Somebody was definitely trying too hard.

The second I stepped inside, the air-conditioning hit me like a damn wall. It smelled like money in here—clean, expensive, like waxed floors and floral arrangements that got replaced before they even had a chance to wilt.

And there she was.

My aunt, standing at the bottom of the grand staircase, dressed in something silk, a glass of wine in her hand like she had just been waiting for me.

Her eyes scanned me up and down, and then she smiled. "Well, if it ain't Siren's song."

That nickname. I hadn't heard it in years.

A part of me wanted to roll my eyes, but instead, I smirked. "Still with the old names, huh?"

She stepped closer, reaching out to touch my face like she was seeing a ghost. "You look just like him."

I held her gaze, my smirk fading just a little.

I didn't say thank you.

I didn't say I know.

I just let the words hang between us before tilting my head. "What's wrong?"

Her smile didn't drop, but I saw the shift in her eyes.

"Your uncle wants to speak with you," she said lightly. "But you should eat first."

That told me everything I needed to know.

They didn't do shit without a reason. If I was here, it was because they needed something.

I followed her into the dining room, and my stomach tightened when I saw the spread—shrimp and grits, cornbread, fried catfish, mac and cheese, all laid out like it was somebody's last meal.

She sat me down and fixed my plate herself, the way she used to when I was younger, like she was buttering me up before dropping some bad news.

I let her play her game.

I leaned back, watching her hands as she served me. "How's Zuri doing in school?" I asked casually, breaking off a piece of cornbread.

She paused.

It was small—quick—but I caught it.

Then she took a sip of her wine before answering. "Your mother pulled her out."

I frowned, my grip tightening on my fork. "What?"

"She said the tuition was too expensive."

My jaw clenched. I put my fork down. "That don't make no damn sense."

My mother wasn't broke. Sure, she had a bad habit of burning through money like it was air, but she still had enough to keep Zuri in school.

My aunt saw the look on my face and reached across the table to flick my forehead. Pluck.

"Calm down," she warned. "You just got back. Address it later. She's in a free k-12 program anyways."

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to lean back in my chair. I wasn't about to flip the table yet.

"A free K-12 program?" I repeated, my voice rising before I could stop it. "Momma put Zu in some free K-12 program?"

My aunt just nodded, sipping her wine like she hadn't just dropped a bomb on me.

"That don't make no damn sense," I said, pushing my plate back. "Zu can't learn like that! She needs to be in a real school, around real teachers, real students—"

"Serenity."

Her tone was soft. Too soft. But it carried a weight that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

I shut my mouth immediately.

That was the tone she used when I was little and way too close to getting my ass beat. The tone that let me know I was about three seconds from stepping over a line I didn't wanna cross.

I swallowed hard and sat back in my chair, gripping my fork so tight my knuckles turned white. My heart was still hammering in my chest, but I kept my face blank.

I bet Momma is using the money for more drugs.

The thought made my stomach twist.

She had burned through all of my money before I even turned eighteen, and now she was messing with Zu's future too?

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

But I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Not yet.

I forced myself to eat the food in silence, keeping my head down, chewing slow. I didn't even taste it anymore.

Auntie let the silence sit between us for a while before finally speaking. "You wanna tell me how you ended up in this situation?"

I glanced up at her and shrugged. "Not really."

She hummed, like she expected that answer, then reached for her phone. A few swipes later, she turned the screen towards me.

I blinked.

It was a blog post—some gossip site all the way from New York—with my damn face plastered on it. Right next to Yanna's.

The headline made my eye twitch.

From Rags to Riches: The Love Story of Socialite Yanna Hill and Con Serenity Allen!

I clenched my jaw, scrolling through the article. They had everything in there— That picture of me and Yanna together, a estimated timeline of our relationship, details about my arrest, even my mugshot.

I let out a slow breath through my nose, rolling my eyes.

Auntie just watched me, her expression unreadable. "So, is it related?"

I dropped her phone back on the table and leaned back, stretching my arms behind my head. "Unc ready?"

She gave me a knowing look before nodding toward the hall. "You know where his office is."

I sighed, pushing back from the table. I already knew this conversation wasn't gonna be fun.

But I didn't have a choice.

I squared my shoulders, cracked my neck, and made my way to my uncle's office.

Uncle's smirk deepened. He could already see the answer on my face, but he let me say it out loud anyway.

"Siren needs a comeback," he said, watching me closely.

I exhaled slowly before nodding.

"I'm in."

His smile widened. "That's what I like to hear."

He started to stand, but then paused, rubbing his chin. "But before we go makin' this official, I gotta see somethin' first."

I frowned. "See what?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he gestured for me to follow.

I sighed and pushed up from my chair, slipping my hands into my pockets as I trailed behind him.

We moved through the mansion, past lavish sitting rooms and halls lined with expensive paintings, until we reached a door that led downstairs.

The moment we stepped onto the cold concrete, I knew where we were going.

The basement shooting range.

I shook my head. "You serious?"

Uncle chuckled, flipping on the lights. The room was decked out—steel tables lined with handguns, automatics, and shotguns. Targets at the far end, already riddled with holes. The air smelled like gunpowder and oil, and the concrete walls made everything echo.

"You think I'm just gonna hand you an entire operation without makin' sure you still got Siren's blood in you?" He gestured towards the table. "Go 'head. Pick one."

I dragged a hand down my face but stepped forward, scanning the options. Most of them were high-end, new models, but my fingers went straight for something familiar.

A Glock.

Simple. Clean. Reliable.

I slid the magazine out, checking the bullets, then slammed it back in and racked the slide.

Uncle nodded in approval. "Take your time."

I didn't need to.

I lifted the gun, squared my shoulders, and squeezed the trigger.

Pop.

Headshot.

Pop.

Headshot.

I barely let the gun settle before firing again.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

By the time I lowered my arm, there were six bullet holes—no, not six holes.

One.

A single hole, dead center, where I had shot through the same exact spot every single time.

I let the silence sit for a second before I turned back to Uncle, popping the magazine out and setting the gun on the table.

He let out a low whistle, walking up to the target to get a closer look. His fingers traced the hole, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Then, he turned back to me, grinning ear to ear.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "You definitely Siren's kid."

I let a slow smile spread across my lips. "I know."

Uncle chuckled, shaking his head. "Cocky ass." But I could tell he wasn't mad about it. He liked that I knew exactly who I was.

He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "I'ma have a driver take you back to your mama's. You got three days to get you and Zuri packed. I'll send the flight details soon."

Three days.

Three days until I was out of Louisiana.

Three days until I was in New York.

I nodded, not saying much else. Uncle didn't expect me to—he just gave me a knowing look and walked off, already pulling out his phone to make arrangements.

By the time I made it outside, a sleek black car was already waiting in the driveway. I slid into the backseat, sighing as I leaned my head against the cool glass.

The city blurred past as we drove, streetlights casting long shadows across empty sidewalks. The night felt heavy, pressing against me, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.

On Yanna.

She had been on my mind since the moment Uncle mentioned New York, but now, she was taking up all the space in my head.

Did she still think about me?

Did she miss me?

Or had she already moved on—letting her daddy and Wyatt push me so far out of her life that I barely felt real anymore?

I clenched my jaw, tapping my fingers against my thigh.

I knew one thing for sure.

If she had moved on, it wasn't by choice.

I remembered the way she looked at me, the way she held onto me like I was something sacred. Yanna wasn't the type to let go easy.

She was mine.

And whether she knew it or not, I was coming back for her.

The car took a sharp turn, pulling onto the street where my mama lived. My mood soured instantly.

I exhaled hard, shaking off my thoughts. I needed to focus. First, I had to get Zuri out.

Then, I'd deal with everything else.

The second I stepped inside, the smell hit me first—stale smoke, cheap liquor, and the sharp chemical stench of something stronger.

The house was trashed.

Cigarette butts overflowing in ashtrays, half-empty bottles scattered across the coffee table. Some dude I ain't never seen before was slouched on the couch, head tipped back, eyes barely open. Another one was by the kitchen, rolling up, his bloodshot eyes cutting to me for half a second before he went back to his blunt.

The whole place looked like a trap house.

I clenched my jaw.

This was what my little sister had to live in?

I stepped over an empty beer can and looked around. "Mom," I called out, already knowing this was about to be some bullshit.

It took a second, but then I heard her footsteps.

She stumbled into view, wearing a too-small robe, eyes glazed over and hair a mess. She swayed a little, gripping the doorway like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

I barely recognized her.

"Where's Zuri?" I asked, scanning the room again. "And who the fuck are all these men?"

Mama scoffed, waving a hand like I was annoying her. "Look, Serenity, you not finna be comin' in my house with all this yelling." Her words slurred together. She squinted at me, then winced. "Damn, you loud. My head hurt."

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples. "Mama, you got men all over this house, and my little sister lives here." I gestured around at the mess, my stomach twisting at the thought of Zuri growing up in this shit.

Mama rolled her eyes, then pressed a hand to her forehead like I was the problem. "Shut the fuck up, Ren. You always runnin' your mouth, makin' my head worse."

I didn't even have it in me to argue.

Right then, I heard footsteps—fast ones—coming from down the hall.

A second later, a bedroom door swung open, and my baby sister came running.

"Monkey!" I yelled, grinning.

She laughed as she barreled into me, nearly knocking me back. "That nickname is worn out," she said, rolling her eyes, but she was still smiling. "I'm almost sixteen now."

"I know," I said, pulling back to get a good look at her. She was taller, her curls a little longer, but she was still my Zu. I shook my head. "My baby's so big."

Mama scoffed, rolling her eyes as she stumbled over to the couch. "Well, if she your baby, then take her. Please."

I went still.

Zuri did too.

We both turned to look at her.

She waved a lazy hand. "Go on, Ren. Take her. One less mouth to feed."

Like she was nothing.

Like she wasn't her own child.

Something burned in my chest—rage, disgust, relief. I didn't have to fight her for this.

I didn't even answer her. I just looked down at Zuri. "Go pack your stuff, Monkey."

Zuri hesitated for half a second before nodding and running back to her room.

I turned back to my mother, watching as she reached for a bottle on the table.

This was it.

She had just given up her own daughter without a second thought.

And part of me knew she was gonna regret that real soon.

As soon as Zuri was out of earshot, I turned back to my mother, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. The anger that had been simmering in me since I walked in boiled over. Without thinking, I shoved her—hard enough to make her stumble back a step.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I snapped. "You just gon' discard your own daughters like that?"

She blinked at me, like she couldn't believe I had the nerve to put my hands on her. Then her face twisted up in rage.

"You ungrateful bitch—"

Before I could react, she grabbed a half-empty bottle off the table and swung.

CRASH.

Glass shattered against my cheek.

A sharp, burning pain shot through my face, but I barely flinched. The sting was nothing compared to the words that came out of her mouth next.

"You ruined my fucking life," she slurred, pointing a shaking finger at me. "You and that little brat. You should've died with your daddy."

My blood went cold.

I just stared at her, breathing hard, my vision going red around the edges.

She had always been cruel, always put herself first, but this? This was different.

This was a line she could never come back from.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes like she was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Wiping the blood trickling down my cheek with the back of my hand, I turned on my heel and headed to Zuri's room.

She didn't have much. Just a few bags, a couple of stuffed animals from when she was little. Some clothes that barely filled a suitcase. She looked up at me when I walked in, her big brown eyes scanning my face.

"You okay?" she asked softly, nodding at my cheek.

I forced a smirk, ruffling her curls. "You know me, Monkey. I'm good."

She didn't look convinced, but she didn't push it. She zipped up her suitcase and slung her backpack over her shoulder.

I grabbed her things, slinging them over my own shoulder. "Come on," I muttered. "We outta here."

When we stepped outside, the driver was still waiting, standing by the sleek black car, looking bored. He barely blinked when he saw the blood on my face.

"Where to, Miss Serenity?" he asked.

I glanced at Zuri, then back at him. "Take us to a hotel. We'll wait out the time there."

He nodded, opening the back door for us.

I didn't look back as we pulled off.

I didn't need to.

I was done with that place. For good.