It seems like we’re here more than we’re in New York anymore. I let out a deep breath and plop down on the bed, leaning my elbows on my knees and trying to rub the tension from my head. The bed dips beside me and Akila leans her shoulder into mine.
Dropping my hands, I meet her worried hazel gaze. Usually, I’m better about hiding my stress and anything bothering me and, by hiding, I mean channeling it into rage and breaking things. Like faces.
Maybe it’s the weed, it could be because Malia’s been gone for so long now that I have too much to hide. Whatever the reason, I feel out of control, like I finally found the limit of what I can handle. We grow up being taught not everyone will survive this life, our days are numbered from the moment we’re born into it. We know we have a permanent, invisible X on our heads and backs. No one is invincible, no one is unbeatable, and the higher up the food chain you are, the bigger your mark becomes.
We’re taught these things, it’s drilled into our minds, but no teachings will ever prepare you for how it actually feels to go through it.
I shake my head and run a hand down my face.
“No, I can’t,” I say. “There are a few more places I need to check out.”
I stand, and Akila grabs my hand, tugging on it to pull me back down, but I don’t budge. She gives up, standing and moving in front of me, wrapping her tiny arms around my waist.
“Lion, stop,” she pleads, and I frown down at her.
“I’ll be back,” I mumble.
Breaking from Akila’s hold, I stalk towards the door. Sitting here isn’t helping find Malia. Feeling sorry for myself and giving up is not who I am. It’s not who Malia is. And, if she can’t fight for herself for the first time in her life, I need to fight for her.Weneed to fight for her.
“I said stop, Lion!” Akila yells.
My feet come to a stop, and I grab the door jamb before passing through it. My fingers flex, splintering the wood as rage begins to simmer in my blood. If I let go right now, I’m likely to put my fist through something.
“You’re stressed,” she continues, and I scoff. “You’re panicking—“
“I’m not panicking,” I growl over my shoulder, not trusting myself to turn and face her.
Akila sighs and I can hear her soft footsteps as she approaches me.
“You are,” she says, my body stiffens when she places a hand on my back. “You’re not thinking clearly, and you need to get some sleep. You’ve had your men scour New York. You, yourself, have scoured D.C., Lion, you can’t do this on your own.”
My hand falls to my side as I take strength from Akila’s light touch, and I let my head drop forward.
“I can’t just go to bed and give up, Doll,” I admit, finally turning around to face her.
She shakes her head, sending her long, white hair dancing around her shoulders.
“No one’s saying that,” she says. “You losing your head won’t help anyone, especially Malia. Everyone is falling apart, the masks are beginning to crack, so I need you to be the one who keeps it together. You need to focus, and you can’t do that if you’re exhausted.”
There hasn’t been a time in my life that I’ve gone this long without Malia. Not without at least a phone call, a text, her randomly showing up in New York and staying for weeks, and vice versa. Even if it was just an emoji of her flicking me off and calling me a dickhead. She’s always been there.
“She’s my best friend,” I rasp. “My big sister.”
Akila nods, then she’s on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around my neck and pull me down to her level, resting her forehead against my own. I close my eyes, silently soaking in her comfort.
“I know,” she breathes. “Get your head in order. For Malia, for Nate, and even for Liam.”
Releasing me, she grabs my hand and tugs me back into the room.
“Come on. You need to sleep.”
I allow her to pull me into the room, kicking the door shut behind me as I follow her to the bed. She works my shirt off me and my cell phone rings in my pocket. Akila gives me a stern look, but I ignore it. Pulling it from my jeans, I see my right-hand man Ruiz’s name flashing on the screen. I accept the call, placing the phone against my ear as Akila rolls her eyes and falls down on the bed.
“Lion,” Ruiz says in a rush.
“What is it?” I demand.
“We’ve got eyes on Martinez.”