Where the Boys Come to Die

by Porscha Sterling

Genres: African American Urban; African American Romance

Synopsis

On New Orleans’s darkest, most seductive streets, obsession is a game two can play—but only one can win . . .

For fiercely independent Sincere Watkins, her stunning beauty is an obstacle to be overcome. Growing up in New Orleans' most dangerous neighborhood, she caught the eye of Lorde, leader of the ruthless local gang, The Saints. Despite Lorde’s unstoppable obsession with her, Sincere is making a life for herself. She won’t let him stand in her way—even after he takes out someone she cares for. Sincere just focuses on fulfilling her dreams—and holds love at a distance to keep others safe . . .

But when Lorde upends Sincere's world irrevocably, she evades his every merciless move with strength, savvy, and resilience she never knew she had. And their battle of wills becomes all-out war when Lorde’s
second-in-command, Supreme, falls hard for Sincere's dignity and determination . . .

Now she will work every angle by igniting long-buried resentments and lethal rivalries among The Saints. For in the Dirty South, where grudges run deep and life is short, power lies in how you seize it. And Sincere will pay any price, rack up any cost to get revenge—and all she deserves. Even if all that's left is heartbreak—and smoking ash . . .

Release date: February 24, 2026

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 320

Sample

“Damn shame I gotta put a bullet through your forehead. You got such a pretty face.”

Sincere squeezed her eyes closed, gritting her teeth as Lorde pressed the barrel of his gun against her skull. The hard, cold kiss of steel sent a shiver down her spine. Fear gripped her soul and clawed at the loose fragments of her mind, rendering her unable to even think a single sensible thought.

The world around her blurred, but the terror she felt was inescapable. The rough texture of the pavement biting into her knees, the muted scuff of boots stomping against concrete, and the faint drone of a streetlight above them only added to the eerie atmosphere.

And then there was Lorde’s voice.

Low. Smooth. Clearly amused.

A stream of warm urine ran down her leg, pooling at her knees, now bruised and aching after she was forced to kneel on the concrete. Laughter erupted from behind her, sharp and mocking. The Saints, Lorde’s followers, were there watching the spectacle as if it were entertainment. They reveled in her humiliation. Sincere clenched her jaw, swallowing back the acid rising in her throat. She wanted this moment to be over, but Lorde wasn’t done playing with his food.

“You said the reason I ain’t never seen you around is ’cause you don’t be out like that,” he mused, his voice dripping with condescension. “Always at home … readin’ and writin’ your little songs.”

He snorted, shaking his head like the idea alone was laughable.

More laughter from his men was heard.

“Childish shit,” Lorde sneered. “I bet you wish your little nerdy ass would’ve just stayed home tonight.”

A sharp pang stabbed through her chest. Yes. Yes, I do. She wanted to scream it. If only it meant that she could turn back time. Because even now with a gun to her head and death grinning in her face, she refused to give him the power of knowing how desperate she was in that moment.

Instead, her mind drifted, clinging to the last remnants of normalcy. Of the hours before this. Before this moment, before Lorde’s men forced her into this alleyway. Back when she was doing the one thing that she loved the most. Before she answered Aaliyah’s call.

She should’ve let it ring. Should’ve stayed curled up in bed, pencil in hand, trying to force creativity to strike. Desperately trying to finish the song that had been tormenting her for weeks. But she didn’t. Because whenever Aaliyah called, Sincere followed. She always did.

Now, because of that loyalty, she would die in the dirt, a bullet tearing through her skull, while her mother sat in her night class, believing her daughter was safe at home.

She wouldn’t even know.

A fresh wave of nausea clawed at Sincere’s insides.

Lorde cocked his head, watching her misery with dark amusement. He looked so evil, almost satanic, in his gaiety. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

Silence.

Sincere inhaled slowly, her bottom lip trembling with fear. She lifted her gaze as she accepted her fate, locking onto his with everything she had left inside her.

She wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t plead. She would not die a coward.

Lorde’s eyes flickered, something unreadable passing over his face. And then … he smirked.

Click.

The metallic snap of the safety being released sliced through the air and Sincere thought she would release her bowels. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Her mind raced, reaching for something that could make this moment stop.

But there was no way out. No escape. No way to rewrite the past.

Because the story of how she got here had already been written …

A few hours earlier …

The streets of New Orleans throbbed with a pulse of its own at night. The air was filled with lust and dripping in sin. The sultry sounds of jazz music was the soundtrack of the night. And the intoxicating scent of fried catfish and powdered-sugar-kissed beignets clung to the Louisiana heat like a slow, lingering kiss.

This was everything that Sincere loved about home. She didn’t have to go anywhere else to know this would always be her favorite city.

The All-Saints Festival was already in motion by the time they arrived. It was a feast for the living and the dead. A place where spirits danced in the air, their whispers threading through the laughter, the murmured prayers, and the banging of glass as people lined bottles against the wall to honor their departed loved ones.

But tonight, as they approached, something felt different. As Aaliyah stopped to observe the crowd, finding a place for them to begin, Sincere stood on the corner, watching, feeling all the energy around pressing against her skin like a second layer of flesh. Her hands trembled at her sides, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the energy of the city or of the night itself. Something was coming. She could feel it, creeping up her spine like a slow, knowing touch.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. She knew it like an intuitive hit or some sort of premonition. In that moment, as Sincere stood observing the activity around her, she knew deep down inside that whatever her mother’s reasons were for keeping her distance from this were for a good cause.

“Sincere, stop looking so scared. You look like somebody’s lost puppy.”

Aaliyah’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and Sincere turned, catching her best friend’s cocky grin and the dangerous sparkle in her eye. Aaliyah thrived in places like this—where trouble was an inevitability, not a possibility.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Sincere muttered, tucking her hands into the pockets of her denim shorts. “If my mom finds out—”

“She won’t.” Aaliyah rolled her eyes, linking arms with her. “Besides, we’re here to have fun. And maybe …” She shot Sincere a knowing look. “Maybe get close to a few Saints.”

Sincere’s stomach flipped. “The Saints?”

“As in the Saints. The only reason we’re even here.” Aaliyah grinned, her perfectly glossed lips stretching over pearly white teeth. “New Orleans royalty, baby. And we’re about to meet them.”

Aaliyah had always been reckless. Sincere loved her for it, but tonight, something felt different.

The air had shifted around them.

The night had eyes.

And they were watching.

Aaliyah had the kind of personality that was contagious. Her energy was always so high that it was hard to not join in. She was the type of person who could make a snail race fun. That said, it didn’t take long for Sincere to fall right in line. Less than half an hour later, she had a belly full of beignets from Café Beignet as Aaliyah finished up the last drops of her daiquiri, or—as the residents of NOLA called it—“purple drank.”

“Ooh, a psychic! I want to get my fortune read!” Sincere said, spotting a lone tarot reader perched at a table, her eyes shadowed beneath a wide-brimmed hat.

Aaliyah raised a brow. “How much is it?”

The old woman sat in the shadows, her fingers tattered and thin as she shuffled her cards.

Sincere hesitated as Aaliyah pushed her toward the small table.

“Twenty-five dollars,” the woman murmured.

Her accent was thick and she delivered her words slowly, like molasses dripping from her tongue. Both girls froze at her response, exchanging wide-eyed glances.

“How did she hear me over all this noise?” Aaliyah whispered, clutching Sincere’s arm.

“I don’t know,” Sincere muttered.

“Crazy,” Aaliyah said, recovering with a shrug. “Here. This is my thank-you for coming out with me. Go ahead, get your future read or whatever.”

Sincere barely noticed Aaliyah press the money into the woman’s palm before she felt those dark, unblinking eyes settle on her like a storm cloud.

Aaliyah bumped her hip playfully. “Girl, go! What you scared for? It’s just a card.”

“I ain’t scared,” Sincere muttered, though her voice betrayed her nerves.

“Mm-hmm.” Aaliyah was clearly unconvinced, but not about to let her back out.

Taking a deep breath, Sincere walked toward the table, each step feeling heavier than the last. The woman didn’t look up, her eyes focused on the worn deck of cards she shuffled with slow, deliberate movements. Her hands were thin, almost skeletal, and her skin stretched tight over knuckles that looked like they’d seen more years than most.

“Pick one.”

Sincere’s fingers hovered, shaking, before finally grasping a card. She turned it over.

Death.

Aaliyah sucked in a breath beside her.

Sincere felt ice drip into her veins.

The old woman tilted her head, studying the card with the patience of someone who already knew the answer.

“An ending,” she murmured. “But also, a beginning.”

Sincere’s heart pounded. “What does that mean?”

The woman didn’t answer. She just smiled.

Sincere tried to find her voice, but it felt like it had been snatched right out of her throat. Her eyes darted to Aaliyah, who was standing off to the side, her arms crossed and her face twisted into an expression that was half concern, half disbelief.

“What’s it say?” Aaliyah asked, stepping closer and squinting at the card.

“Death,” Sincere managed to get out. The words tasted foreign on her tongue. “It says … death.”

“Girl, no it don’t,” Aaliyah said quickly, shaking her head as if the force of her denial could change the meaning of the card. “It don’t mean that. It means change or transformation or something like that, right?”

She glanced at the woman for confirmation, but the old psychic said nothing, her lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line. Aaliyah looped an arm around Sincere’s shoulder and guided her away from the table, muttering under her breath about “spooky old women” and “bad energy.” But Sincere couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, not just in the air around them, but in her. The card felt like a warning, a message she couldn’t yet understand, but knew she couldn’t ignore.

Aaliyah was quiet as they moved through the crowded street, her gaze darting around like she was searching for something—or someone. Sincere couldn’t tell if she was spooked by the reading or just caught up in the energy of the festival, but her usual confidence seemed to be back in full force by the time they reached a corner where the crowd had thinned.

Aaliyah spotted it first. A gold chain lay discarded in the street, the fleur-de-lis pendant catching the glow of the streetlights. It looked expensive. Way too expensive to belong to just anybody.

“Somebody lost this,” Aaliyah said, scooping it up, her grin widening.

Suddenly, Sincere felt the chill again. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the emblem more clearly. It looked official, almost like a crest, and something about it felt … dangerous. “This doesn’t look like just some random chain. You think it belongs to somebody important?”

“Probably a Saint,” Aaliyah said with a shrug, tucking it back into her purse. “But they won’t miss it. They got enough money to buy ten more just like it.”

The mention of the Saints made Sincere’s chest tighten. She’d heard enough stories to know they weren’t the kind of people you wanted to cross, and the idea of her best friend holding onto something that might belong to them made her stomach flip.

“What are you gonna do with it?” Sincere asked, her voice low, almost cautious.

Aaliyah grinned, her confidence unwavering. “Pawn it, obviously. I need the money.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sincere said quickly, her brows knitting together. “If it belongs to a Saint and they find out—”

“They won’t,” Aaliyah cut her off with a dismissive tone. “Stop worrying so much, Sincere. Nobody’s gonna care about one little chain.”

But Sincere wasn’t so sure.

“You should put that back,” she whispered.

Aaliyah laughed and waved her off. She wasn’t trying to hear that. The rule was “finders keepers, losers weepers” and she was on the better end of the deal.

Sincere’s stomach twisted. Something about that chain felt wrong.

It felt like a trap.

She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. It was a strange feeling, like the air around her had thickened, pressing down on her chest and making it hard to breathe.

And then—

She felt him before she saw him.

A presence.

Watching.

She turned her head slowly, her eyes scanning the crowd.

He was leaning against a lamppost, his hazel eyes dark with unreadable intent. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just watched.

“Sincere? What’s wrong?” Aaliyah’s voice pulled her back, but Sincere couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

“I think he’s staring at me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Aaliyah followed her line of sight, her expression shifting instantly when she spotted him. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. “Oh, he’s not just staring at you, baby. He’s looking at you like you’re the prize in a raffle.”

Sincere’s breath hitched. “Who is he?”

“That’s Lorde,” Aaliyah said, her tone dropping like she was sharing a secret. “He’s one of the top dogs in the Saints.”

Sincere’s stomach churned. She’d heard his name before. Whispers about him floated through the streets like an urban legend. He wasn’t just a member of the Saints, he was their future. Although he wasn’t in the top spot yet, everyone knew that one day Lorde would be their leader.

“Which makes him dangerous, doesn’t it?” Sincere asked, her voice trembling.

“Dangerous is the point. It’s a show of power,” Aaliyah said with a sly grin. “He’s the kind of man who could change your whole life if you let him.”

Sincere swallowed hard, her chest tightening as she turned back to look at him. Lorde hadn’t moved, but the intensity in his gaze made her feel like he’d already taken a step into her world.

“I don’t want my life changed,” she murmured, more to herself than to Aaliyah. “It’s fine the way it is.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Aaliyah said with a wink. “Sometimes a little danger is exactly what you need.”

Sincere didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her gaze was still locked on Lorde, and the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. He wasn’t just watching her. He was claiming her. And somehow, she knew this was only the beginning.

The thing about men like Lorde was that they didn’t ask for permission. They didn’t hover or linger in the corner. They walked into a space, claimed it, and dared anyone to challenge their right to be there. Lorde was no different.

One moment, Sincere’s feet were rooted to the cobblestone street, her pulse loud enough in her ears to drown out the festival’s music. The next, he was moving toward her, slow and deliberate, like a lion stalking prey that didn’t even realize it had been spotted.

“Sincere, come on!” Aaliyah hissed, tugging her arm, but she couldn’t move. Her feet felt like they’d been cemented to the ground.

She wasn’t sure what it was—fear, curiosity, or the pull of something she didn’t have a name for—but she couldn’t look away. His eyes, sharp and focused, were locked onto hers, and the intensity in his gaze made her feel like he could see right through her. By the time he was standing in front of her, the world around them had dimmed into the background, as though the festival itself had bent to his will and quieted just for him.

“Evenin’ baby,” he said, his voice smooth and low, laced with an accent as rich with culture as the city itself. He didn’t look at Aaliyah, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. His focus was all on Sincere, as though she were the only person in the world worth noticing. It wasn’t the kind of attention that made her feel flattered. It was the kind that made her feel exposed.

Aaliyah was undeterred. She stepped forward, wedging herself between Sincere and Lorde with a confidence only she could muster.

“I know you. You’re Lorde,” she said, her voice dripping with charm. “I guess by the way my girl’s looking at you, I’d say you’ve made quite the impression.”

Lorde didn’t blink. His lips curled into a faint smirk, but his eyes stayed fixed on Sincere.

“Oh yeah? Well, what’s your girl’s name?” he asked, his tone casual, like he wasn’t demanding an answer, but simply expecting one.

Before Aaliyah could reply, Sincere finally found her voice, though it was shakier than she would’ve liked. “It’s Sincere.”

“Sincere,” he repeated, letting the name roll over his tongue like licorice. “I like that.”

His smile widened slightly, and for a moment, she thought he might’ve been handsome if it weren’t for the way he looked at her—like an object that he owned. As if she had no choice in the matter at all. Maybe that was attractive to some women, but Sincere hadn’t been raised to think of herself as powerless.

“Thanks,” she murmured, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

Aaliyah, clearly irritated by being ignored, laughed loudly, drawing his focus to her for the first time.

“Tell me, what’s up? Are you gonna just flirt with my girl and not even ask me for my name?”

His eyes cut to Aaliyah briefly, his expression unreadable. “I don’t need your name,” he said simply before turning his attention back to Sincere.

Aaliyah’s laugh faltered, her smile tightening, but she recovered quickly.

“Well, excuse me,” she said, stepping closer to Sincere and looping her arm through hers. “But if you’re trying to get at my girl, you’re going to have to try a little harder.”

Sincere could feel Aaliyah’s nails digging into her arm, and for the first time, she realized her friend wasn’t just annoyed. She was nervous.

“You don’t like my style?” Lorde asked, his smirk returning as he cocked his head slightly to the side.

There was something playful about his tone, but at the same time, it didn’t seem playful at all. Aaliyah, to her credit, didn’t back down.

“I mean, you can’t really try to talk to a woman and ignore her friend,” she shot back, her voice steady.

Lorde didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a slow step closer to Sincere, his gaze dropping to the curve of her lips before rising again to meet her eyes.

“What about you, Sincere?” he asked, his voice low enough that his question felt like a secret between them. “You don’t like my style either? Or do you see me as a man who goes after what he wants?”

Her breath hitched, her chest tightening as the air around her seemed to grow heavier. Unlike Aaliyah, Sincere didn’t have a problem with entertaining boys her age. She preferred to swim in the shallow end of the pool rather than plunge into the deep end. Lorde’s forwardness left her unable to find a response.

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

His expression sharpened, his mouth curving in a way that felt more like a warning than a smile. “Well, I guess I’ll have to stick around and find out.”

Before she could respond, before her brain could even process the weight of his words, Aaliyah stepped in again, her tone sharper this time.

“All right, Lorde—well, nice to meet you, but we’ve got places to be.” She grabbed Sincere’s hand and started to pull her away, but not before Lorde leaned in just close enough for his breath to brush against Sincere’s ear.

“I’ll see you around, baby,” he murmured, his voice like velvet laced with iron.

Sincere barely sat down on the seats when Aaliyah cranked the engine, the loud rumble blending into the music and chaos of the festival behind them. She sank back onto the headrest, still trying to shake the image of Lorde’s intense gaze following her through the crowd. Her palms were clammy, her chest tight, and some unseen force was pressing down on her like she couldn’t take a full breath.

“Sorry, I snatched you away like that, but did you see that tattoo on his arm?” She waited for Sincere to respond, but it took a moment for her to catch her breath.

“No.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t see nothing but his eyes.”

“Well, if you had seen it, you would know that it matched this.” Aaliyah pulled out the chain from her pocket and pointed at the thick diamond and gold fleur-de-lis charm dangling in the end.

Sincere’s eyes widened. “Are you saying you think it’s his?”

Aaliyah dropped the chain in the space between them and sighed, allowing her body to drop back into her seat.

“Yeah,” she replied in a small voice. “I can’t keep it. I have to give it back. I don’t want no smoke with Lorde.”

“Yeah,” Sincere agreed. “I wouldn’t either.”

She couldn’t explain it, but Lorde unsettled her in a way that was hard to describe. He wasn’t like the boys she’d dealt with before, not the sweet-talking types who made promises they had no intention of keeping. Lorde didn’t need to promise anything. His presence alone demanded attention.

“Girl, you okay?” Aaliyah asked, snapping her fingers in front of Sincere’s face as she backed the car into the street.

“I’m fine,” Sincere said quickly, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Aaliyah raised a brow but didn’t press. “Look, I know he’s intense,” she said, her tone softening, “but don’t let him get in your head. He’s just a man. A man with a reputation, sure, but still just a man.”

Sincere nodded absently, her thoughts too tangled to untangle. But before she could respond, she saw him again. He was standing in the street, hands in his pockets, his expression calm but unreadable. The dim streetlights overhead cast menacing shadows across his face, and Sincere’s stomach dropped when Aaliyah slowed the car, muttering under her breath.

“What the hell does he want now?” Aaliyah hissed, her knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.

Before Sincere could stop her, Aaliyah rolled down the window. Lorde stepped closer, his movements unhurried, deliberate. The tension in the car was palpable as he leaned into the driver’s-side window, his sharp hazel eyes cutting straight to Sincere.

“You leaving already?” he asked, his voice low, smooth, like he had all the time in the world to talk them out of their skin.

Sincere swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing. “We were just—” She stopped mid-sentence when his eyes flicked down, catching on something in the middle console of the car. The chain. The one Aaliyah had showed her earlier, the golden links catching the light like they were begging to be noticed.

Sincere’s blood ran cold as she watched his expression shift, the easy smirk disappearing as his lips pressed into a hard line. His eyes darkened, the calm in his demeanor evaporating like smoke.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked, his tone low and dangerous.

“What?” Aaliyah asked, her voice too casual as she tried to follow his gaze.

“That,” Lorde said sharply, pointing to the chain. “That’s mine.”

Aaliyah froze for a split second, and then she did the worst possible thing she could have done. She laughed.

“Oh, this?” she said, her voice tight. “It was on the road. We didn’t know it was yours.”

Lorde’s eyes snapped back to hers, and Sincere could feel the temperature in the car drop.

“You didn’t know,” he repeated, his voice as calm as it was cutting. “This is my territory. Everybody in the Deep knows that chain is mine.”

Sincere’s eyes traced back to Aaliyah and her expression only confirmed his statement.

“We were gonna give it back,” Aaliyah added quickly, her grip tightening on the wheel. “It’s not that deep.”

For a moment, the air was thick with a silence so strong, it made Sincere want to scream just to break it. Then Lorde leaned further into the car, his gaze returning to Sincere.

“You knew about this?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft. “You was in on it?”

“I … I didn’t—” Sincere started, her words tripping over themselves, but she didn’t get a chance to finish.

Aaliyah hit the gas. The car lurched forward, the sudden motion jerking Sincere back against her seat as the engine roared. Lorde stumbled back, catching himself before falling backwards, and for one terrifying moment, Sincere thought they’d run him over.

“Are you crazy?” Sincere screamed, gripping the sides of her seat as Aaliyah swerved onto the main road.

“He was about to do something, Sincere!” Aaliyah yelled, her voice high and panicked. “You saw the way he was looking at us!”

“He’s definitely about to do something now!” Sincere shot back, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see headlights flash behind them.

“Shit.”

Aaliyah’s voice was tight as she gripped the steering wheel, her fingers trembling.

Lorde’s black Escalade was following them.

Gaining on them.

Sincere’s stomach sank. “He’s following us,” she whispered.

Aaliyah didn’t respond. Her jaw was set, her eyes locked on the road ahead as she pushed the car faster, the tires screeching around every corner. The first gunshot came out of nowhere, shattering the back windshield with a sharp, deafening crack.

Sincere screamed, ducking instinctively as glass rained down around her. “Oh my God, he’s shooting at us!”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Aaliyah snapped, swerving hard to the left as another shot rang out, this one slamming into the back tire.

The car jerked violently, the steering wheel shaking in Aaliyah’s hands as the engine sputtered. Sincere clutched the dashboard, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might break through her chest.

“We have to stop!” she cried, her voice cracking with panic. “You’re going to crash. We need to stop now!”

“No, we don’t!” Aaliyah yelled back, her knuckles white as she fought to keep the car steady. “I can lose him!”

But the car trailing them wasn’t letting up. Another shot came, blowing out the other back tire and sending them skidding sideways before it slammed into the curb. Sincere’s head snapped forward, the seat belt digging into her chest as the car shuddered to a halt.

Metal crunched and glass rained down all around them. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the engine sputtering and the uneven rasp of her breathing. Then came the footsteps.

Deliberate and slow.

Sincere’s blood turned to ice. She turned her head just in time to see the driver’s-side door ripped open, one of Lorde’s men yanking Aaliyah out and slamming her against the car.

“Don’t do this!” Sincere screamed, her voice hoarse from desperation. “Please, don’t—”

“Shut up!” another one of the men snapped, kicking her hard enough in the ribs to knock the air out of her lungs.

This wasn’t over. Not even close. Her hands started scraping against the rough concrete as she tried to scramble to her feet.

“Stay down,” a voice snarled above her, and a boot pressed against her back, pinning her to the ground.

The world spun around her, the sounds of shouting and laughter blended into a chaotic blur. And then he was there.

Lorde.

He stepped into her line of vision, his presence commanding even in the chaos. His eyes locked onto hers glowing like embers of fire in the dark, and for a moment, everything else disappeared.

“This,” he said, holding up the chain in front of Aaliyah. “This was your first mistake.”

“No … no, no, no!” Sincere sobbed, her voice cracking as she struggled against the weight holding her down. “Please! She’s—she’s sorry! She didn’t mean—”

The boot lifted from her back, and she barely had time to push herself up on trembling hands before another pair of hands grabbed her, yanking her to her feet. She swayed, unsteady, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts as she found herself face-to-face with him.

He stood in front of her, the chain dangling from his hand like a trophy, his hazel eyes burning with an intensity that made her knees weak. There was a black mark on the side of his shoe where Aaliyah’s tire had nearly clipped him, but his face was calm, eerily calm, as though none of this had affected him at all.

Sincere’s stomach churned as his hazel eyes swept over them, cold and calculating. He moved slowly, the chain dangling from his hand, its golden links catching the faint glow of the streetlights.

“Which one of you took it?” he asked, his voice quiet, but sharp enough to cut through the silence.

Neither of them answered.

Lorde tilted his head slightly, his gaze slicing between the two of them. His lips curved into something that might’ve been a smile if it wasn’t so void of humor. “Don’t play dumb with me,” he said, his tone hardening. He turned to Aaliyah, whose chest was rising and falling rapidly as she avoided his gaze. “Was it you? It was you, wasn’t it?”

Aaliyah didn’t say a word. Her hands shook at her sides, her lips parting like she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the courage.

Sincere saw it then. The fear in her friend’s eyes, the way her confidence had crumbled under Lorde’s intense gaze. Realizing Aaliyah couldn’t handle this, she did the only thing she could.

“It was me,” Sincere blurted out, her voice trembling as she stepped forward. “I took it. I’m sorry.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, no one moved. The men exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of confusion and amusement.

Lorde’s gaze shifted to Sincere, his hazel eyes narrowing as he studied her. He stepped closer, his head tilting as he took her in, from the valiant lift of her ch