His streets, not mine …. LAST OF THIS UNTIL… 12/27
Peaches’ phone rang, and when she saw the name flash across the screen, she knew instantly it wasn’t good.
“How the f—” she started, but her voice came out calm, controlled, though her chest was tightening.
She listened, nodded, and tried to absorb the impossible news. Priest… in jail. Her mind raced, disbelief washing over her like ice water.
The call was transferred, and she heard his voice next.
“Priest, what the fuck?! What the hell is going on?” she demanded, trying to keep panic out of her tone.
“Listen to me and calm down,” he said, steady, almost eerily calm. “I’ll be okay. I’ll be getting out soon. Just get the money from the suitcase in the closet and bring it outside when the car honks.”
Peaches froze. “Bring it to who?!” she exclaimed, incredulous.
“You ask too many questions. Just do as I say for once!” His voice was sharp, commanding, but beneath it, a strange calm.
Peaches’ mind was spinning. Something was happening behind the scenes. Something Priest wasn’t telling her. She felt like she was watching a puzzle come together but missing half the pieces.
She went upstairs, hands trembling slightly, and opened the closet. There it was—the suitcase, heavy and bulging with money. Her eyes widened.
“What the fuck, Priest?” she whispered to herself, fear and confusion twisting in her stomach.
She held the handle tight, her mind racing with questions she couldn’t ask, decisions she had to make, and the dangerous game Priest was playing without her knowing all the rules.


































































