His Streets, Not Mine
Peaches’ belly looked like it carried its own gravity.
She moved slow now — deliberate, careful — one hand pressed to the small of her back, the other resting over her stomach like she was shielding something sacred.
Priest had turned the house into a fortress.
Two guards at the gate.
Two by the front entrance.
One in the back near the patio doors.
No deliveries without inspection. No unexpected visitors. No lingering cars on the block.
He wasn’t playing about her.
⸻
The sudden banging on the door made everything jump.
Not a knock.
A bang.
The guards snapped upright instantly, hands hovering over their guns before pulling them free and holding them low at their sides. One nodded toward the door. Another checked the monitor.
Peaches’ breath hitched.
“Who is that?” she asked, already pushing herself up slower than she meant to.
Before anyone could answer, the lead guard opened the door carefully—
And there stood Priest.
Calm. Dressed sharp. Hands in his coat pockets like he wasn’t the reason five men were ready to fire.
The guards visibly relaxed.
Peaches blinked.
“Hi… how you?” she asked, slightly out of breath just from standing.
Priest looked her up and down and couldn’t stop the chuckle that slipped out.
“Hustlin’, I see You are very pregnant,” he said, pointing subtly toward her stomach.
“Boy bye,” she shot back, wobbling as she turned and made her way back to her chair.
He smirked and followed her in, nodding at the guards to stand down but stay sharp.
“Everything alright?” he asked, his tone shifting. Less playful. More protective.
Peaches lowered herself carefully into the chair and nodded.
“Yeah. Just… tired.”
But he didn’t miss it.
The slight tension in her shoulders.
The way her eyes flicked toward the door before settling.
The way she kept rubbing her belly like she was soothing herself.
Priest crouched down in front of her — something he rarely did for anyone.
“You sure?” he asked quietly.
She swallowed.
“I just feel like… something’s coming.”
He glanced toward the windows.
“You in pain?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Not like that.”
It wasn’t labor.
It was instinct.
And outside, one of the guards stepped away from the gate to answer a phone call.
Priest stood slowly.
His jaw tightened.
“What is it?” Peaches asked.
He didn’t answer right away.
Because across the street, a black SUV had been parked a little too long.
And it wasn’t there earlier.
Priest turned toward the guards.
“Double the perimeter,” he said calmly.
Then he looked back at Peaches.
“You not leaving this house unless I’m with you. Not for nothing.”
She gave him a look.
“You act like I can run somewhere.”
He cracked a small smile.
“I know you can’t run. That’s why I’m worried.”
Outside, the SUV’s engine turned over.
And didn’t move.
The SUV was still idling.
Low. Steady. Patient.
Priest didn’t like patient.
He stepped toward the front window just enough to see without being seen. Blacked-out windows. No plates on the front. Engine running but no music, no movement.
Not amateurs.
He adjusted his watch slowly.
“Stay with her,” he told the closest guard without raising his voice. “No one comes in. No one leaves.”
Peaches shifted in the chair.
“Priest…” she warned softly.
He turned to her, and for a split second the hardness dropped.
“I’ll be right outside.”
“You always say that,” she muttered.
He smirked faintly. “And I always come back.”
⸻
He stepped out the front door like he was going for fresh air.
No gun in his hand.
Just confidence.
The guards fanned out subtly behind him, but not close enough to make it obvious.
Priest walked down the driveway slowly, shoes crunching against gravel. He didn’t rush. Didn’t posture.
He stopped halfway down.
The SUV engine cut.
Silence.
The driver door cracked open.
Priest didn’t blink.
A man stepped out. Dressed clean. No visible weapon. Hands empty.
But his eyes were wrong.
Too calm.
“Evenin’,” the man called casually.
Priest tilted his head.
“You lost?”
The man smiled faintly. “Nah. Just checking on something that belongs to us.”
Priest’s expression didn’t change — but something in him sharpened.
“Ain’t nothing over here belong to you.”
The man’s eyes flicked toward the house.
“Woman inside. Heavy with child.”
The air shifted.
Priest took one slow step forward.
“Careful.”
The man shrugged. “Word travels. Some births… draw attention.”
Priest’s jaw tightened.
“And some funerals do too,” he replied evenly.
The man studied him for a moment longer.
“You can’t guard against what’s written.”
Priest smiled — but it wasn’t friendly.
“I don’t believe in written. I believe in what I can touch.”
And then he did something bold.
He closed the distance.
Fast.
Before the man could react, Priest grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the SUV hard enough to rattle the door.
The guards instantly raised their weapons, aiming at the vehicle.
Priest leaned in close, voice low and lethal.
“You came to my house. You spoke about my woman. Now you gon’ tell me who sent you.”
The man didn’t struggle.
He smiled.
“That baby isn’t yours to protect.”
Wrong answer.
Priest punched him once — sharp and controlled — not wild. A warning, not a rage.
“Last chance.”
The man’s smile faltered just slightly.
“You’re already late.”
From inside the house—
Peaches gasped.
A sharp pain seized her abdomen.
Not instinct.
Not fear.
Contraction.
Hard.
And too early.
One of the guards turned toward the house.
“Boss—!”
Priest’s head snapped up.
Inside, Peaches gripped the arm of the chair, breath shaking.
Something was happening.
And the man against the SUV whispered:
“It’s starting.”
Reading "His Streets, Not Mine" immediately took me into a world where every moment feels thick with tension and protective instinct. The way the author paints Peaches’ pregnancy—not just as a biological condition but as a focal point of vulnerability and power—really stands out. I’ve personally witnessed how expectant mothers become the center of attention and care, yet here, it’s combined with a palpable sense of threat, making the story immersive. The fortress-like setup Priest creates reminds me of stories where love and danger intersect, emphasizing how far people will go to safeguard what matters most. The multiple guards and stringent security protocols underscore the seriousness of the threat, making the tension almost tangible. What struck me the most was the interaction between Priest and the mysterious man in the black SUV. That calm menace, the clipped dialogue, and the subtle yet charged physical confrontation — these elements reveal layers about control, power, and fate. It’s a reminder that sometimes protection isn’t just physical but also a mental game of reading threats and staying steps ahead. The theme of impending change—the imminent birth juxtaposed against the looming external danger—adds emotional depth. Anyone who has waited in anticipation for a life-changing event will feel the mix of hope and anxiety here. Overall, this snippet is more than a suspense story; it captures the human essence of fight, protectiveness, and vulnerability, wrapped in a narrative that balances character development and action. If you enjoy stories with rich emotional stakes and palpable tension, this one delivers.
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