His Streets, Not Mine…. LAST.

“Priest—” Peaches started to say, but the rest of the words never made it out.

A deafening BOOM ripped through the night behind them.

The ground trembled. The blast lit the sky orange for a split second like lightning made of fire.

Peaches twisted around in the passenger seat just in time to see the house erupt into flames. Glass burst outward. Smoke rolled into the air like a dark cloud swallowing the block.

“OH MY GOD!” she screamed.

Their son woke up in the backseat instantly, crying loudly as the shockwave rattled the Suburban.

Priest slammed the gas harder, the engine roaring as he sped down the street.

Peaches’ heart was racing so fast she could barely breathe.

“Priest!” she yelled again, turning toward him. “What the hell is going on?!”

Priest’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

“I told you we had to move!” he snapped.

“You didn’t say why!”

Another explosion echoed somewhere behind them, smaller this time—maybe debris collapsing inside the burning house.

Peaches stared at him, horrified.

“They tried to blow up the club too,” Priest said through clenched teeth.

Peaches blinked.

“What?”

“Security came running in,” he continued. “Said guys dressed in all black were running down the block with bags.”

Her stomach dropped.

“Bombs?”

Priest nodded once.

“Yeah.”

Peaches looked back at the burning house disappearing behind them.

“Who would do something like this?”

Priest didn’t answer right away.

That silence told her more than words.

Peaches turned slowly toward him.

“…Priest.”

He kept his eyes on the road.

“You know who it is, don’t you?”

Priest exhaled heavily.

“I got a few guesses.”

“A few?” she said in disbelief. “You got enemies throwing bombs at our house and you got a few guesses?!”

Their son cried harder in the backseat.

Peaches turned around quickly to check on him, reaching back to rub his tiny leg.

“It’s okay baby… it’s okay,” she whispered, even though nothing felt okay.

When she turned back around, her voice was shaking.

“You told me you were trying to change,” she said quietly. “You said you wanted a different life for us.”

“I do,” Priest replied.

“Then why are people trying to kill us?!”

Priest slammed his palm against the steering wheel in frustration.

“Because the past don’t just disappear, Peaches!”

The car fell silent except for the baby crying and the sound of tires rushing over pavement.

Peaches swallowed hard.

“You said you fired Dahlia tonight,” she said slowly.

Priest glanced at her.

“Yeah.”

Peaches’ mind was racing.

“And right after that… people show up to bomb your club and our house?”

Priest’s jaw tightened.

“You think she set me up?”

“I don’t know!” Peaches snapped. “But something ain’t adding up!”

Priest’s phone suddenly started ringing in the cup holder.

He glanced down at the screen.

His expression changed instantly.

Peaches noticed.

“What?”

Priest hesitated.

“Who is it?” she demanded.

He finally answered quietly.

“…Dahlia.”

Peaches stared at him in disbelief.

“Answer it,” she whispered.

Priest tapped the screen and put it on speaker.

“Yeah.”

For a moment, there was only silence on the other end.

Then Dahlia’s voice came through, calm… almost amused.

“You made it out,” she said.

Priest’s eyes darkened.

“So it was you.”

Dahlia laughed softly.

“Oh Priest… if it was me, you wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Peaches felt chills crawl up her spine.

Priest’s voice dropped dangerously low.

“Then why are you calling me?”

Another pause.

Then Dahlia said something that made both of them freeze.

“Because the people coming after you…”

Her voice turned serious.

“…aren’t finished.”

Peaches looked back out the rear window.

Her heart stopped.

Headlights.

Three black SUVs were speeding up behind them.

Fast.

“Priest…” she whispered.

He already saw them.

And he pressed the gas harder.

Priest gripped the steering wheel as he took another sharp turn, the tires screeching slightly against the pavement. The black SUVs that had been chasing them were no longer in sight.

He checked the rearview mirror again.

Nothing.

Just empty streets.

Peaches let out a shaky breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding.

“Did we lose them?” she asked quietly.

Priest nodded once.

“For now.”

Their son had finally settled in the backseat, small sniffles replacing the loud cries from earlier.

Peaches looked back at the road ahead.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Priest didn’t answer immediately.

“I got another place,” he said finally.

Peaches turned toward him.

“Another place?”

Priest reached over and grabbed his phone at the red light. His thumbs moved quickly across the screen.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Making sure my people straight.”

He sent out several quick texts.

Security: Pick the dancers up now. Take them to the condos. Nobody goes back to the club.

Peaches frowned.

“Condos?”

Priest glanced at her briefly.

“Yeah.”

“You never told me you had condos for them.”

Priest shrugged slightly.

“I keep my people taken care of.”

Peaches stared at him for a moment, realizing something she had never fully processed before.

Priest wasn’t just running a club.

He was running an operation.

The club alone was bringing in insane money. On big nights, the place was packed wall to wall—VIP rooms, bottle service, private shows. Money flowed through the place like water.

Almost millions a year.

And the dancers?

They were making real money too.

Priest believed if they made money, they stayed loyal.

But what Peaches didn’t know until recently was that the club wasn’t even his smartest move.

Priest had invested early.

Stocks.

Businesses.

Real estate.

Money that kept multiplying quietly in the background.

He wasn’t just rich.

He was strategically rich.

The Suburban pulled into a quiet gated neighborhood about twenty minutes later. Priest typed a code at the gate and it slid open slowly.

Peaches looked around, confused.

Rows of modern townhomes lined the street.

“You own these?” she asked.

“A few of them.”

Priest parked in front of one of the units and cut the engine.

For the first time since the explosion, the silence felt heavy.

Peaches looked at him.

“Our house is gone,” she said quietly.

Priest nodded slowly.

“I know.”

She swallowed hard.

“And somebody tried to bomb your club.”

“Yeah.”

“And now we hiding in one of your secret houses.”

Priest leaned back in his seat and rubbed his face.

“Temporary.”

Peaches stared at him.

“You got any idea how crazy this is?”

Priest turned his head and looked at her.

“You think I don’t know that?”

Before she could respond—

His phone buzzed again.

Another message from one of his security guards.

Priest opened it.

His expression immediately changed.

Peaches noticed.

“What now?”

Priest slowly lowered the phone.

“The club…”

“What about it?”

He exhaled slowly.

“It’s gone.”

Peaches blinked.

“What?”

“The bombs went off.”

Her stomach dropped.

“The whole place?”

Priest nodded.

“Fire department trying to control it now.”

Peaches leaned back in the seat, stunned.

First the house.

Now the club.

Everything was being wiped out in one night.

She turned toward Priest slowly.

“Who hates you this much?”

Priest stared straight ahead through the windshield.

Then he said something that made Peaches’ blood run cold.

“That’s the problem.”

He tightened his jaw.

“…I don’t think this is about hate.”

Peaches frowned.

“Then what is it about?”

Priest’s phone buzzed again.

This time it wasn’t a message.

It was a photo.

He opened it.

And his heart dropped.

Peaches leaned over slightly.

“What is it?”

Priest showed her the screen.

It was a picture of their son.

Taken tonight.

Sleeping in the backseat of the Suburban.

Peaches gasped.

“How—”

A second message appeared under the photo.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

You can run, Priest…

Another text followed.

But you can’t hide your family.

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