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“Nah.”

“They’re saying⁠—”

“Nah, Sam. What the fuck you mean dead?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where the fuck is he?”

I started crying harder.

“My kids, Levin.”

That silenced him.

“I gotta tell my fucking kids.”

“Stay at the courthouse.”

“Levin—”

“Stay there. I’m coming.”

The call ended.

I lowered the phone.

My attorney was watching me.

“You don’t have to do anything right now.”

Except I did.

I had four little people whose entire lives were about to change.

And somewhere in Newark, Xavier Lawless was lying dead while detectives started pulling apart every fucked-up piece of his life trying to figure out which one had finally caught up with him.

I wiped my face.

Then I stood.

Because whether I was ready or not⁠—

I still had to go be somebody’s mother.

LEVIN

Almost two weeks after we buried my brother, I still hadn’t wrapped my head around the fact that the nigga was actually gone.

One minute I was ready to beat his ass over what he’d done seven years ago.

The next I was standing over his fucking casket.

Life had a fucked-up sense of humor.

The funeral was packed.

Family.