I didn't sleep that night
Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Jayden standing in that ring—his fists clenched, sweat dripping down his forehead, eyes locked on a man twice his size like he wasn't scared of anything.
But I was scared.
Not for him. For what it meant.
The next morning, he walked into the kitchen like nothing had happened.
"Morning," he said, pouring cereal like it was any normal day.
"Rough night?" I asked, watching him closely.
He froze for a second. Just a second.
"Stayed late studying at Derrick's."
Lie.
I could still see the red mark on his knuckles as he reached for the milk.
"You know," I said carefully, "I thought I saw you near 14th Street last night."
His eyes shot up. "What were you doing near 14th?"
"Could ask you the same thing."
We stared at each other for a long moment.
Then he laughed—fake, tight. "You're imagining things, Amara."
"I'm not. I saw you."
His expression changed. Just slightly. A flicker of something sharp passed through his eyes before he turned away.
"Don't follow me again," he said quietly.
"Then tell me what's going on."
"You don't need to know."
"Jayden—"
He looked at me then. And what I saw in his eyes wasn't anger. It was fear. Not of me. For me.
"This isn't a game," he said. "Just stay out of it, okay?"
I should've listened.
But I didn't.
That night, I followed him again.
And what I saw the second time... was worse than the first.