37. Derek’s Destiny

DEREK

I ran through the hospital halls like a man possessed, security on my heels, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t even stop when I reached Little Derek’s door—I just busted in. The sight that met me almost knocked the wind out of me. Ant, Angel, and my parents were gathered around the bed, and Little Derek…he was awake.

Angel was holding his hand, and Ant was rubbing her back while my parents stood on the opposite side of the bed, smiling.

I exhaled a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. When Ant called, telling me to get to the hospital now, I’d hung up mid-sentence, panic gripping me, assuming the worst. But now, seeing Little Derek awake and alert, my heart finally settled.

“D-Truth,” Little Derek greeted me, his voice soft but steady.

“Little man,” I said, making my way to him. My father stepped aside, giving me space to get closer. I held out my hand, and he dapped me up, that small gesture meaning more than words could. “Good to see you, kid.”

“I heard I missed you at the Jubilee,” he said, smiling up at me, his eyes bright.

I chuckled, sitting down in the chair my mom pulled up for me. “Yeah, but don’t worry—it’s recorded. My label’s talking about turning it into a music video. Shouted you out, too.”

His eyes lit up like Christmas. “For real?”

“For real,” I grinned, feeling a lightness I hadn’t felt in days. For a moment, the bullshit didn’t matter.

The Jubilee performance had been making its rounds everywhere—people couldn’t stop talking about the song, the energy, the message. Marcy, always the strategist, suggested we turn the footage my videographer captured into my next video. The song was already blowing up, downloads going crazy.

But what really struck me was when I told her whatever money the song brought in, it was going straight to the families of the crash. Angel, Little Derek, everybody else—hell, I wanted to make sure they got checks for the rest of their lives. They deserved that peace. That security.

The fans were hungry for new music, new anything and loved supporting the cause. Marcy had been practically begging me to come back to New York or at least get some performances lined up. I had a few booked for this week, but I postponed them all. Let the team deal with the fallout. I wasn’t trying to hear about anything else right now.

I had shit to handle in Juniper, and nothing was pulling me away from it—not even the flashing lights of the stage or the roar of the crowd. Right now, I was just happy I made it back to see Little Derek like this, to see him smile, to dap him up like the day we met.

The way he lit up when he saw me? That hit different. I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to steady myself, trying to keep my emotions in check. I didn’t know what the hell I’d be walking into when I got here, but this? This was the moment I needed.

“He’s alright, just like ya’ll said he would be,” Angel smiled, her eyes never leaving her son, like she was afraid to blink, afraid that if she did, this moment might disappear.

Ant stood by her, arms folded, his voice low but full of pride. “He’s a fighter, just like his mama. Strong.”

Little Derek, propped up in that hospital bed, smirked, a little mischief in his eyes. “Can’t leave my mama hangin'. Plus, I haven’t even dropped my album yet.”

We all laughed, the sound filling the room, lightening the tension that had gripped me since I busted through those doors.

I leaned in, my hand resting on the edge of the bed. “We’ll get you in the studio as soon as you’re ready, aight?”

His eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. “You serious?”

"For sure. Gotta make sure my son’s rap skills are up to par," I said, flashing Little Derek a smile that was all promise.

I could see the confusion flicker across his and Angel's faces when I called him my son, but the kid just shrugged it off. I knew in his mind, he thought it was cool. He was already looking up to me in ways that made my chest swell with pride.

But, of course, Ant had to cut in, shaking his head, breaking the moment. “He ain’t your son, Derek.”

I sucked my teeth, brushing him off with a dismissive wave. “Man, whatever.” Then I turned to Angel, leaning in with a grin, trying to lighten the tension. "Angel, tell him," I egged her on, knowing damn well she was caught off guard.

Angel blinked, still confused. “I’m sorry... what?” Her voice was soft, hesitant, like she wasn’t sure how to navigate whatever this was turning into.

“Anyway, Little Derek’s got a long road ahead,” my mom chimed in, her voice steady but laced with that motherly concern. “Physical therapy, recovery... he’s gonna be in a wheelchair for a bit, but if all goes well, he should be able to leave in about two weeks.”

I caught the flicker of worry flash across Angel’s face, her fingers tightening around her son’s hand like she was holding on for dear life.

I stepped forward, cutting through that tension quick. “Angel, whatever ya’ll need, we got you. You know that, right?”

Her head dipped for a moment, her voice soft as she spoke, “You’ve all done so much already—”

My father’s deep voice broke through before she could finish. “We take care of family, Angel. That includes you and Little Derek now.”

Angel looked up, eyes wide with emotion, but before she could protest again, my dad pressed on. “Now that you see him gettin' better, me and Paula can come sit with him sometimes so you can take a break.”

“I don’t know...” she hesitated, uncertainty heavy in her voice.

“Angel,” my father said, his tone gentle but firm, “life’s still happening out there, and you ain’t gotta carry this on your own. We’ll watch him sometimes, and he’ll still have his medical team right here. Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to him if you step out for a minute. Go to dinner, go to the beauty parlor, get some air. Have you a little fun.”

Angel’s eyes softened, but I could see she was still holding on tight, afraid to let go of that fear even for a second. But my father’s words, his calm authority, had a way of breaking down walls.

“Maybe Mr. Ant can take you on a date, Mama,” Little Derek said with a grin, his words dropping like a grenade in the room. Ant damn near choked on his spit, eyes wide, while I had to fight back a laugh. Seeing Ant—big, stoic, always-in-control Ant—flustered like that? Priceless. Angel’s face flushed so red, it looked like she wanted to disappear into the hospital floor.

Before anyone could say a word, the door creaked open, and just like that, the vibe in the room shifted.

Carlos.

He stepped in, scanning the room cautiously, eyes landing on me and Ant. He knew the deal—he couldn’t even breathe wrong around Angel or Little Derek without risking a beatdown.

“Son,” he said, his voice soft, like he was testing the waters, waiting to see if it was safe to come any closer.

“Hey, Dad,” Little Derek replied, smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The enthusiasm was gone, drained, like the kid was just playing along.

I wasn’t sticking around for this shit. I pushed up from the chair, deciding to offer it to him. My phone buzzed in my pocket anyway—a weird-ass number flashing on the screen. That let me know it was Dorian on a secure line.

Timing was everything.

I nodded at Carlos, not saying a word, and stepped out into the hallway. Once I was clear, I signaled to security, waving them back a few feet. I needed space. I needed privacy. Dorian didn’t call unless it was serious.

As I moved further down the hall, I could feel the weight of that call before I even picked up. Something was about to go down.

"Talk to me," I said, my voice low as I glanced over my shoulder, making sure no one was close enough to hear.

“We got eyes on both of ‘em. Johnathon’s laying low at his house, keeping real quiet. Arnold’s moving around, but we’re on him. Say the word, and we’ll bring ‘em in, start the procedures,” Dorian said, getting right to the point. No small talk. No bullshit.

I leaned against the cold hospital wall, my mind racing. “What you thinking?” I asked, my voice dropping even lower.

“Couple of torture devices. Got some new ones I’ve been wanting to try out before I hand ‘em over to the government,” he said casually, like we were discussing what to have for lunch.

I let out a breath, the idea swirling in my head. "Sounds messy."

Dorian chuckled. "It’s all in a controlled space. Disposal’s been arranged."

This was what I wanted, right? To make them feel pain. To make them scared. Hell, to eliminate the problem altogether. Johnathon and Arnold had crossed the line—they tried to harm Destiny, put Eden in a corner, and for what? Petty-ass revenge? I should've been eager to pull the trigger, but something made me pause. I couldn’t figure out why Hakeem wasn’t on the same page.

Dorian's voice broke through my thoughts, colder than ice. "Of course, I wouldn’t make anything permanent ‘til you get here. I know you’ll wanna...talk to them first.”

He sounded like the damn Grim Reaper, and part of me wanted to let him do what he did best. But I wasn’t the type to just let someone else handle my business. Not when it came to this. Not when it came to Destiny.

I ran my hand over my face, feeling the weight of the decision. If I gave the word, this could all be over. Clean. Swift. But it wouldn’t be enough.

“I’ll be there soon,” I said, my voice low, almost a growl. “But don’t start without me. I want them to see my face when it all goes down.”

I hung up, my chest still thudding like a war drum, the weight of my next moves settling in with every step down that hospital hallway. The fires I’d sparked in Juniper were just the prelude. What was coming next? That was where the real heat lived.

“Derek Quadeer Avery Harris, who was that on the phone?” My mother’s voice sliced through the air behind me, catching me off guard.

I spun around slow, putting on my best smile, though my mind was still racing in the dark.

“Ma, you sneakin’ up on me like you the police,” I said, half-joking, trying to mask the shadows creeping in.

She narrowed her eyes, that look only a Black mother could give—half warning, half love. “Boy, don’t play with me. You know better. Now who was that?”

“Just taking care of some business,” I said, my voice steady.

She didn’t say a word at first, just stood there, staring at me, her silence cutting deeper than anything she could’ve said. Then, slowly, she cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowing like she was seeing right through every wall I tried to put up.

“What is it, Ma?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but confusion crept into my voice. I knew something was coming.

“You know, son,” she started, her voice low but sharp, “for all the mess you got into growing up, one thing you were never good at? Lying to your mother.”

She stepped closer, her presence heavy, and before I could move, her hands were on my face, gripping me tight. Her eyes searched mine, desperate, pleading. It was like she was trying to pull the truth out of me, whether I was ready to give it or not.

“What did they do to Destiny that has you with that look in your eyes, boy? I know that look.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered, trying to shake her off, trying to dodge. But she wasn’t letting go. Her grip tightened, like I wasn’t a whole foot taller than her, like she still had the power to break me down with a touch.

“You think I don’t know the person I gave birth to, huh?” she asked, her voice shaking but fierce, that motherly authority in every word.

“Mom—”

She cut me off, her voice dropping to a whisper, but it carried more force than any shout ever could. “I wasn’t sure till today. But as soon as I saw you come through that door, I knew. You almost burned this whole city to the ground.” Her words hit like a punch. She leaned in closer, her tears brimming at the edges of her eyes, threatening to spill over. “And I know for you to go that far, it has something to do with Destiny.”

I clenched my jaw, trying to hold it all in, trying not to let her see the storm raging inside me. She knew me better than anyone, and right now, she was seeing the truth I wasn’t ready to admit.

"Maybe Lyman was up to no good, but you did that, Derek. You did!” Her voice cracked, a blend of frustration and fear cutting through the air like a knife. “Why? What did he do to Destiny?”

The messed up part? Lyman didn’t do shit directly to Destiny.

Truth was, my issue with him wasn’t personal—well, not in the way she thought. He didn’t lay a hand on her. But he sure as hell tried to fuck up Destiny’s event by pushing to cancel my performance at the Jubilee. That was enough for me. And yeah, I hated him for being the reason Johnathon even existed, for knocking up Johnathon’s mom and making him in the first place. Every time I looked at Lyman, I saw the man who created the problem that was Johnathon. And I couldn’t stand it.

And let's not forget the hypocrisy. Lyman out here preaching like he’s some saint, while quietly running a whole drug operation under the radar. His hands dirty as hell, and Arnold washing his money right in front of everyone’s face. That shit pissed me off too. But did he lay a hand on Destiny? Nah, he didn’t. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t part of the problem.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered, lying through my teeth, but the weight of her gaze bore down on me like she could see right through the front I was putting up.

She let me go, her hands falling to her sides, her expression a mix of disappointment and something deeper. Pain, maybe. “Destiny is a good woman,” she whispered, her voice trembling like she was trying to hold herself together. “Lord knows, I’ve prayed for y’all to find your way back to each other.” She paused, her eyes searching mine. “But Derek... she’s your greatest strength and your greatest weakness.”

Those words hit like a gut punch, cutting through every bit of armor I thought I had left.

“When it comes to her, you don’t think,” she continued, her voice breaking, laced with frustration. “You just react. You do horrible things, Derek. Things I know you wouldn’t do if it wasn’t for her. You don’t care who gets caught in the crossfire, who gets hurt along the way. It’s been that way since you were kids. I thought you’d outgrow it. I thought you’d change.”

Her words felt like they were slicing me open, leaving me raw and exposed. She wasn’t wrong. Hell, she never was when it came to reading me.

Her body trembled, like she was holding back years of disappointment and fear. “Juniper was quiet,” she said, her eyes locking on mine. “And the minute you come back, everything’s on fire. Chaos. Everywhere. Why is that, Derek? Why does everything burn the moment you step foot back home?”

I took a step back, leaning against the wall, arms crossed tight over my chest, trying to keep my face from betraying the storm building inside me.

“Whatever happened, whatever is happening... stop while you’re ahead, Derek, or you’ll lose the very person you’re doing all this for,” my mother’s voice was thick with warning, cutting through the air like a blade.

I let out a deep breath, scrubbing my hands over my face, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on my shoulders. I stared up at the ceiling, my hands shoved deep in my pockets, like if I could just hide them, maybe I could hide the truth too.

“People hurt her... really bad,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She just stood there, her eyes searching mine for what felt like forever. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but sharp. “And now you’re hurting them, and you’re not done are you?”

“I’m not,” I admitted, no hesitation in my words. There was no use lying.

She exhaled a deep, shaky breath, and then, just like that, the tears started. Watching them spill down her face? It tore me apart. I hadn’t seen my mother cry like that since I was a kid, and back then I swore I’d never be the reason for it again. But here I was, a grown-ass man, watching the woman who raised me break down because of me.

“You’re going to a place you won’t be able to come back from,” she cried, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know how deep you are in this, but emotionally... mentally... I see it in your eyes. You’re not you right now, Derek.”

Her words cut deep, the truth of them piercing through the haze I’d been walking in. She wasn’t the first to say it. Destiny had been echoing the same thing, over and over. Even after I came home from the fires, thinking we’d patched things up, something between us had shifted. The past couple of days had been heavy with silence, like we were both stuck in the eye of a storm, just waiting for it to pass.

We weren’t fighting anymore, but that almost made it worse. There was no fire, no argument to break the tension. Just this cold distance between us. She wouldn’t say much, wouldn’t touch me like she used to. And even when I tried to reach out, to bridge the gap, it was like her heart wasn’t in it. The same woman who was complaining about me not being close enough, was now pulling back.

And then there was Keem. The way he switched up on me? That shit was wild. One minute, he’s riding with me, talking about being down for whatever for Eden. The next, he’s telling me I’m going too far, that I need to chill.

My own family, my own people were turning on me, and the more they pushed back, the deeper I felt myself falling into this dark space I couldn’t seem to crawl out of.

“Mom, everything is going to be fine,” I tried to reassure her, stepping forward, reaching out to hug her, but she backed away, refusing to let me in.

“Who were you talking to?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“That’s not your concern,” I said, trying to keep my tone as respectful as possible, but even as the words left my mouth, I knew they weren’t the right ones.

Before I could even react, I felt the sting across my face—a sharp, hard slap. Ma was breathing heavy, her chest rising and falling like she’d been holding that in for years. Security started to move, but I lifted a hand, silently telling them to stand down.

Her eyes burned into mine, her voice fierce, shaking with anger and fear all at once. “Stop while you’re ahead, Derek. Stop.”

I stood there for what felt like an eternity holding my damn face, my mother’s words still hanging in the air like smoke from a fire that wouldn’t go out. She’d never hit me like that before. The sting wasn’t just physical—it cut deeper, straight to the core. But I couldn’t show it.

“Mom,” I said, my voice softer, but she wasn’t having it.

“No, Derek,” she interrupted, shaking her head, tears still falling. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to make this better with words. You need to understand, you’re walking down a path that has no end. You think you’re protecting her, but this... all this?” She waved her hand, gesturing towards me, towards everything I had become. “It’s gonna destroy her. It’s gonna destroy you.”

I pressed my lips together, refusing to let the frustration bubbling up inside me take control. She didn’t get it. No one did. This wasn’t just about me anymore. This wasn’t even about vengeance. It was about making sure Destiny never had to fear anything again.

“I know what I’m doing,” I said, my voice firm, trying to hold on to what little control I had left.

“You don’t,” she shot back, her voice trembling, but filled with a kind of desperation I hadn’t seen in her before. “You think you do, but you don’t. You’re so blinded by this anger, that you can’t even see the damage you’re causing. You think Lyman was the only one affected by those fires. You have people scared to death.”

Her words stabbed at me, but I kept my face neutral, my arms crossed over my chest like armor, like if I could block her out, I wouldn’t feel the weight of what she was saying. But deep down, I felt it. Felt every damn word.

“I’m doing this for her,” I said, my voice low, but filled with an intensity I couldn’t shake. “Everything I’m doing, everything I’ve done, it’s to keep her safe.”

“At what cost?” she asked, her voice breaking, her eyes searching mine for an answer. “At what cost, Derek? You think she wants this? You think she wants to look at you and see the man who burned down a city for her? Who brought hell to Juniper because he couldn’t let go?”

I clenched my jaw, trying to hold back the anger, the frustration. She didn’t get it. She couldn’t. This was about making sure the people who hurt her—who tried to destroy her—never had the chance to do it again.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” I said, stepping away, the distance between us growing, not just physically, but in every way that mattered. “But I’m not stopping.”

“Derek,” she called after me, her voice trembling, broken. “Please. I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”

But I was already moving, making my way down the hallway. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

“Think about that little boy in there who looks up to you,” she said, her voice softer now, but each word cut deep. “Wants to be just like you. Do you even realize what it meant to him when you walked through that door? When he saw you, not his own father, but you?”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to turn around, refusing to let her see the conflict warring inside me. But her words kept coming, pushing, digging into me.

The air in the hallway felt heavier, like it was closing in on me. I didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to think about what that kid, that innocent boy, would think of me if he knew the truth. If he saw the side of me I was trying so damn hard to keep hidden.

“This is who you want him to look up to?” she asked, her voice slicing through the silence like a blade. “This version of you?”

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of her words settle in my chest like a ton of bricks. Little Derek. The kid who lit up every time I walked into the room. The kid who wanted to be just like me. Hell, he even had my name. And here I was, about to walk out of this hospital, about to go do some shit that no one should ever look up to.

I could hear her take a shaky breath behind me, like she was trying to hold it together, trying to reach me in a way only a mother could. “You’re a hero to him, Derek. But you keep going down this road, and he’s gonna see something else. Someone else.”

I finally turned around, locking eyes with my mother. Her face was streaked with tears, her expression filled with a mix of desperation and fear, and maybe even a little hope.

“This version of me…” I started, my voice low, rough, barely holding it together. “It’s the only version that can keep Destiny safe.”

Her eyes searched mine, like she was trying to find the boy she’d raised somewhere deep in there. But all she found was a man who had already made up his mind.

“I can’t be what you want me to be right now, Ma,” I said, my voice steady but filled with a kind of sadness I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time.

She shook her head, the tears flowing freely now. “You’re gonna lose her anyway if you keep going like this, Derek. And worse, you’ll lose yourself.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling in my chest like a cinder block, but I couldn’t let it stop me. Not now. Not with everything on the line, and definitely not with the fires I’d already set. This was bigger than me, bigger than any guilt they were trying to pile on.

I turned on my heel, every step feeling heavier than the last, but I kept moving. Security flanked me, their footsteps echoing mine as we made our way to the exit. The silence was thick, but I was too deep in my head to care.

I pulled out my phone, dialing the one person who could help me finish what I started. The one man I trusted to handle shit when it got too deep.

“Dorian,” I muttered as soon as he picked up, my voice low, cold, as I moved through the hallway like a shadow. “I need a location.”