Page 21 of A Kingpin’s Weakness
The room was still. Not silent, just still.
Like the moment right before a thunderstorm hits.
Like the wind holding its breath, waiting for the skies to break open.
We all sat in it, letting the weight of it hang over our heads.
The truth. The rage. The plans we didn’t say out loud yet.
I could feel Rich ready to snap. Southside was already one trigger pull from action.
Me, I just sat there, feeling the ache behind my eyes, the fire in my chest.
Then my phone rang. Loud. Sharp. Almost disrespectful.
Stormi.
I pressed answer, bringing it to my ear without thinking. “Bae.”
“Seth, you okay?”
Her voice was soft, but it held weight. Worry. A little irritation underneath. I’d heard that tone before, but today it hit different.
“Yeah, why?”
“You left at four in the morning. It’s almost four p.m. You haven’t come back.”
“I had some things to handle.” My voice came out flat, controlled. “I’ll be home after.”
“And I’m just supposed to sit here all day, wondering if you’re breathing or not?”
“You can go downstairs. Chill with Mama and S3. But don’t leave the house.”
“So I’m a prisoner now?”
I rubbed my forehead with my free hand, trying not to snap. “You chained up? You locked in a room?”
“I’m not free to go.”
“And you know why.”
She went quiet.
I let the silence sit between us, because I wasn’t changing my mind. Not after what Ronnie did. Not after what he said.
Stormi wasn’t stepping outside that house. Not until Ronnie was in the dirt.
I sat back in my chair and took a drag of the blunt. The smoke moved slow in the air, curling up toward the ceiling like it had all the time in the world.
My mind wandered. It always did when I thought about her. I remembered the beach. That quiet night after I’d taken her out to dinner, offered to take her anywhere, and she said she just wanted to walk. Not the club. Not some rooftop party. Not even one of the penthouse hotels I had keys to.
She wanted the ocean. Something real. I never told her, but that shit humbled me. Most women wanted the lifestyle. The cars, the clothes, the attention. Stormi? She just wanted peace.
“I gave up a lot to be in this game,” I told her that night. “My childhood. My peace. My mom’s dreams. All that.” She looked at me, not scared, not judging. Just seeing me.
“Do you feel like it was worth it?” she asked.
I remembered looking at the waves, then at her. “When I see my mama never have to clock in again? When I hear S3 laughing, playing, being a kid with no care in the world. Yeah, it feels worth it.”
She didn’t say much. Just nodded. Then asked the question I didn’t expect.
“And when doesn’t it feel worth it?” That’s Stormi. She’ll let you hide, but only for so long. Eventually, she’ll pull the truth out of you.
“When I think about dying,” I said. “About S3 being out here with no father. When I wonder if all the blood I spilled is waiting to swallow me whole. When I question if I even deserve peace or love.”
I hadn’t meant to say that last part. But I did.
I looked at her and for a second, she looked just as broken as me.
Stormi was beautiful. Everyone saw that.
But she was also cracked, stitched up in places the world didn’t notice.
She carried her pain openly. She didn’t numb it with pills or hide it behind fake smiles.
She carried Jo. She carried Noah. She carried guilt that wasn’t even hers to hold. And yet, she still stood tall.
“I used to say I couldn’t wait to turn eighteen,” she said that night. “To get away. Start over. Make a life that wasn’t attached to Jo’s mistakes.”
Then she looked out at the waves. “But somehow, I can’t imagine a world where I’m not still trying to hold my family together. Even when they’re the reason I’m falling apart.” That shit stuck with me.
I was ripped from the memory by Rich’s voice.
“We need to call a meeting. Clean house that way.”
I nodded slowly, my voice low as I answered Stormi on the phone. “I’m headed back now.” She didn’t argue. Just sighed. Then we ended the call.
I stood up. Rich was pacing. “Nigga, you headed home for what?”
“Calm the fuck down. I got this.”
“So what’s the play?”
“We pull everybody in. Crews, lieutenants. Look ‘em in the eyes. Anybody moving funny we cut them loose. Clean house.”
“And Ronnie?” Southside asked.
“You know he ain’t coming.”
“He will in due time,” I said. More to myself than them.
Rich slammed his hand on the table. “Man, fuck that. I want that nigga now.”
I stepped closer to him. Not angry. Just solid. “Rich, go get Lia. Take her to my house. She needs to be safe.”
Rich looked at me, then nodded. “Say less.”
I turned to Southside.
“Get all them baby mamas and kids outta the way. No noise. No heat. Just make sure they somewhere safe.”
Because I knew what was coming. I’d seen it in dreams. Felt it in my gut.
This wasn’t just a retaliation. It was a reckoning.
Ronnie thought he could kill my father, lay up in Stormi’s face, and still walk around like a king?
Nah. Kings bleed too. Especially fake ones.
And me, I was born for war. But the moment this shit was over, I was taking everything that mattered Stormi, S3, my mama, and disappearing for a while.
Because for once, I didn’t just want survival.
I wanted peace. And this time, I was gonna fight for it.