The Devil's Obsession

The Drop-Off

Salome woke to sunlight streaming through the gap in her bedroom curtains and the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand.

She groaned, reaching for it with one hand while rubbing sleep from her eyes with the other. The screen showed 8:47 AM and a text from Demarcus.

Demarcus: Bringing Kai back in 30. Be ready.

No "good morning." No "how are you." Just a demand, as always.

Salome's exhaustion hit her all at once—a crushing weight that made her want to pull the covers back over her head and never emerge. She'd rushed home last night when Demarcus texted that Kai was fussy, that he needed to drop him off early. She'd left Malachi mid-conversation, mid-drink, her heart still racing from his touch and his words.

She'd waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Hours passed. She'd paced her living room, checked her phone obsessively, texted Demarcus twice asking for an ETA. He'd ignored both messages. By midnight, anger had started to creep in alongside the worry. By 2 AM, she'd given up and collapsed on the couch, her phone still in her hand, waiting for a text that never came.

Now, at 8:47 in the morning, he was acting like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't stood her up all night. Like she hadn't spent hours in a state of anxious limbo, torn between concern for her son and fury at her ex-husband's carelessness.

Salome sat up slowly, her body protesting the movement. Her neck was stiff from the couch, her eyes gritty with exhaustion. She felt hollowed out, running on fumes and resentment.

She pushed the thoughts of Malachi away—the way he'd looked at her, the way he'd touched her, the intensity in his dark eyes. She didn't have the emotional capacity to process any of that right now. Demarcus was coming, and she needed to be ready—not just physically, but mentally. Every interaction with her ex-husband required armor she didn't always have the energy to put on, and today, she was already running on empty.

Salome swung her legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face, brushed her teeth, and pulled her hair into a messy bun. She didn't bother with makeup. Demarcus didn't deserve the effort.

She threw on a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, then made her way to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. The apartment was quiet, almost too quiet, and she found herself missing the sound of Kai's babbling, the way he'd squeal when he saw her in the morning.

Her phone buzzed again.

Demarcus: 10 minutes.

Salome's jaw tightened. He was early. Of course he was. He liked to keep her off-balance, liked to show up when she wasn't expecting him so he could criticize whatever state he found her in.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and took a long sip, trying to steady her nerves.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway made her stomach clench.

Salome set her mug down and walked to the front door, unlocking it and stepping out onto the porch. The morning air was cool, the sky clear and bright. It should have been a beautiful day.

Demarcus's truck sat in the driveway, the engine still running. He climbed out of the driver's side, his movements sharp and aggressive. He was a big man—tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of build that had once made Salome feel safe. Now it just made her feel small.

He opened the back door and unbuckled Kai from his car seat. The baby was fussing, his little face scrunched up in displeasure. Demarcus handled him roughly, yanking him out of the seat without any of the gentleness a nine-month-old deserved.

Salome's hands curled into fists at her sides.

"Morning," she said, keeping her voice neutral.

Demarcus didn't respond. He walked toward her, Kai squirming in his arms, and stopped at the bottom of the porch steps. His eyes raked over her, cold and assessing.

"You look like s**t," he said.

Salome forced herself not to react. "Thanks for bringing him back."

"Yeah, well, I had to cut my weekend short because you couldn't be bothered to stay home and take care of your kid."

Her stomach dropped. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Salome." Demarcus's voice was sharp, cutting. "I know you went out last night. To the club. While I had Kai."

Salome's heart started to pound. "I'm allowed to go out, Demarcus. We have a custody arrangement. You had him for the night. What I do with my time is none of your business."

"None of my business?" Demarcus laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You're out there shaking your ass for strangers while I'm stuck taking care of our son. You're a f*****g hoe, Salome. You know that?"

The word hit her like a slap.

"Don't talk to me like that," she said, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to keep it steady.

"I'll talk to you however I want." Demarcus climbed the porch steps, closing the distance between them. Kai was still fussing in his arms, reaching for Salome, but Demarcus didn't hand him over. "You think you can just go out and act like a slut? Like you don't have responsibilities?"

"I went out for a few hours," Salome said, her voice rising. "I'm allowed to have a life, Demarcus. I'm allowed to—"

"You're allowed to be a mother," Demarcus snapped. "That's what you're allowed to do. But instead, you're out there dressed like a w***e, probably letting some random guy put his hands all over you."

Salome's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to scream at him, wanted to tell him he had no right to talk to her like this, but the words wouldn't come. She was too angry, too hurt, too overwhelmed.

"Give me my son," she said quietly.

"Your son?" Demarcus's eyes narrowed. "You mean the son you couldn't be bothered to stay home for? The son you dumped on me so you could go get drunk and f**k around?"

"I didn't dump him on you. You're his father. You're supposed to spend time with him."

"And you're supposed to be home taking care of him, not out there acting like you're single." Demarcus shoved Kai toward her, and Salome barely caught him in time. The baby immediately started crying, his little hands clutching at her sweatshirt.

"You're pathetic," Demarcus continued, his voice dripping with contempt. "You know that? You're a terrible mother. A terrible wife. No wonder I left you."

Salome held Kai close, her arms trembling. She wanted to say something, wanted to defend herself, but her throat was tight and her eyes were burning with unshed tears.

"You think any man is going to want you?" Demarcus leaned in closer, his breath hot against her face. "You think anyone's going to look at you—a broke single mom with stretch marks and baggage—and think you're worth anything? You're nothing, Salome. You're a used-up slut who can't even keep her own husband interested."

The words cut deeper than any physical blow could have.

Salome took a step back, putting distance between them. "Get off my property."

"Gladly." Demarcus turned and walked back down the steps. "Enjoy your pathetic little life. And next time you want to go out and act like a w***e, don't expect me to pick up the slack."

He climbed into his truck, slammed the door, and peeled out of the driveway, leaving tire marks on the pavement.

Salome stood on the porch, holding Kai, her entire body shaking.

The baby was still crying, his little face red and tear-streaked. She bounced him gently, whispering soothing words she didn't feel, trying to calm him down even as her own composure crumbled.

"It's okay, baby," she murmured, her voice breaking. "It's okay. Mama's here."

Kai's cries eventually subsided into hiccupping sobs, and Salome carried him inside, closing the door behind her. She sank onto the couch, holding him close, and let herself cry.

She hated that Demarcus could still do this to her. Hated that his words could still cut so deep, could still make her feel small and worthless and broken.

She hated that he was right about some of it.

She was broke. She was struggling. She was a single mom with stretch marks and baggage and a life that felt like it was held together with duct tape and sheer willpower.

But she wasn't nothing.

She wasn't.

Salome wiped her eyes and looked down at Kai. He was staring up at her with wide, curious eyes, his little hand reaching for her face. She caught his fingers and kissed them, her heart aching with love for this tiny, perfect person who depended on her for everything.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry you have to see me like this."

Kai babbled something unintelligible, and Salome managed a watery smile.

She would pull herself together. She always did.

But right now, she just needed a moment to fall apart.

Half a block away, Jackson sat in his car, his jaw tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles had gone white.

He'd seen the whole thing.

He'd watched Demarcus pull into the driveway, watched him yank the baby out of the car seat, watched him get in Salome's face and say things that made Jackson's blood boil.

He couldn't hear the exact words from this distance, but he didn't need to. The body language said it all. The aggression. The contempt. The way Salome had shrunk back, holding her son like a shield.

Jackson pulled out his phone and dialed Malachi.

The line rang twice before Malachi answered. "What do you have?"

"You need to hear this," Jackson said, his voice hard.

There was a pause. Then: "Talk."

"The ex just dropped off the kid. It didn't go well."

"Define 'didn't go well.'"

Jackson exhaled slowly, trying to keep his anger in check. "He got in her face. Called her names. Degrading s**t. Hoe. Slut. Told her she was a terrible mother for going out last night. Told her she was worthless."

Silence on the other end of the line.

Jackson continued. "He was aggressive, boss. Not physical, but close. She was shaking when he left. Crying. The baby was crying. It was bad."

More silence.

Jackson could practically feel the shift in energy through the phone. When Malachi finally spoke, his voice was ice-cold.

"Where is she now?"

"Inside. She took the baby in a few minutes ago. I'm still parked down the street."

"Stay there."

"Boss—"

"Stay there," Malachi repeated. "I'm on my way."

The line went dead.

Jackson set his phone on the dashboard and leaned back in his seat, his eyes fixed on Salome's apartment.

He'd worked for Malachi King for years. He'd seen him angry before—seen him cold, calculating, ruthless. But this was different.

This wasn't business.

This was personal.

And Jackson had a feeling Demarcus had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Malachi stood in his penthouse, staring out at the city, his phone still in his hand.

Jackson's words echoed in his mind.

Called her names. Degrading s**t. Hoe. Slut. Told her she was a terrible mother.

His jaw tightened.

She was shaking when he left. Crying.

Malachi's hand curled into a fist.

So Kai's father was Demarcus.

The pieces clicked into place now. The son she'd mentioned at the club—the responsibilities, the firm need to get back home. Malachi had known she was carrying weight. Now he understood exactly what that weight was.

And now he knew who was making it worse.

Jackson's surveillance had revealed everything: Demarcus wasn't just absent. He was aggressive. Disrespectful. He called her names—degrading, vicious names. He made her cry. He made their son cry.

Malachi's mind shifted into a different gear. This wasn't about seduction or possession anymore. This was about a problem that needed solving. A man who was hurting her. A child who was caught in the middle.

He grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

He didn't know the full story yet. He didn't know how long she'd been dealing with Demarcus, what their history was, or how deep this ran. But he knew enough: she was vulnerable, she was alone, and someone was taking advantage of that.

That ended tonight.