Page 25 of A Kingpin’s Weakness

Seth

I walked into the warehouse with Stormi still all over me: her scent, her taste, her soul.

My face was still sticky with her sweetness, but I didn’t care.

Hell, I wore it like armor. That woman was mine, and every part of me screamed to get back to her.

I slipped my hand in my pocket and felt the soft lace of her black thong I’d taken.

I’d carry it with me through whatever war this turned out to be.

But tonight wasn’t about love. Tonight was about blood.

My eyes landed on Rich, sitting quiet in the corner like a storm waiting to break. I didn’t dap him up I pulled him in for a real one. Too often we bury our pain behind straps and silence. Men like us needed hugs more than handshakes, but nobody ever told us that growing up.

“You ready?” I asked, my voice low, heavy.

Rich didn’t speak, just nodded as we walked toward the circle of soldiers standing in the center of the warehouse. Southside stepped forward, dapped Rich up, then pulled him in too. Real recognize real.

“It’s time to suit up,” I said. “I need Ronnie and every generation before and after him.”

“I can serve Ronnie on a glass plate,” King said, stepping into the warehouse like a shadow. He greeted us, then fell back while I stepped forward. This was my war. My father’s ghost was still waiting for peace.

“I’m ashamed to say it, but Ronnie played in my face for years,” I began, my voice tightening with every word.

“Thought he was solid. Thought he was blood. But that nigga was poison. I made a promise to my pops the day they lowered him in the ground I’d send his killer right to him.

I was 14 then. I’m 35 now, and I’m making good on that promise. ”

“Ronnie killed Seth Sr.?” Josh stepped forward, shocked. I couldn’t even form the words. I just nodded. That was enough.

“Say less,” Josh replied. And just like that, he was ready.

“I’m not forcing nobody into this. If you ain’t ready to go to war behind this, walk out now,” I told them. I meant it.

Two of Ronnie’s old crew stepped back, ready to leave. I respected it but Rich didn’t.

Pop! Pop!

No hesitation. Rich dropped both of them before they hit the door. His face was stone cold.

“Seth gave y’all a choice,” he said. “But I lost the love of my life today. You move funny, you get moved.”

I didn’t say a word. When Rich was like this, there was no talking him down. And truth be told, I wasn’t in the mood for mercy either. Ronnie wasn’t just a target he was the nemesis. And I was about to become the reaper.

Six feet under, Ronnie could finally rot, and maybe then I could go back to Stormi without losing what little of me was left.

“You were lookin’ undecided too, nigga.” Rich’s voice came out low, but it was the kind that made your blood run cold.

That post-grief rage, the kind that came after burying the only woman you ever loved.

“The last thing I need is an enemy in the field with me.” He walked up on Corner Boy slow, gun already raised, placed it right under his chin. The silence in the warehouse was thick like even the air knew what was about to happen.

“I’m 100, Rich. I swear?—”

Pop!

One shot. No hesitation. No mercy.

“Nigga didn’t sound believable at all.” Rich said it like he was commenting on the weather. Then stepped over the body and sat back down in that chair like he never left it. Like he was built for war and today, war was the only thing feeding him.

Me, I was fueled by something different. Revenge, yes. But also Stormi.

Her smile. Her trust. Her body still on my tongue. The way she made me feel like I wasn’t just built for the streets, but for something more.

I looked at the room full of grown men, killers, all staring at me like they were waiting for direction, for a reason to pull triggers or end a life.

“I need Ronnie brought to me alive.” My voice didn’t shake.

It didn’t have to. Everyone felt the weight of what I said.

“Simple. Stay safe and stay loyal.” Because I wasn’t just tryna win this war.

I was tryna make it out. Alive. Whole. And standing next to my son, my moms, that woman that gave me a reason to breathe outside these walls.

The room broke up slow, quiet. Nobody said shit. They moved like ghosts, slipping back into their roles. Soldiers. Street kings. Killers with targets.

I walked into my office with Rich, King, and Southside at my back. The door shut behind us like a vault.

For a second, I leaned on the desk. Let my body fall forward.

My hands clenched tighter than I realized Ronnie was gonna die.

Not just for what he did to my pops. Not just for Lia.

Not just for Stormi, but the years of lies and the disrespect.

For thinking he could take what was mine and still breathe air the next day.

“Where’s that glass plate?” My voice cut through the room like a blade as soon as we stepped into the office.

My heart was steady, but my blood boiling. I had Stormi’s taste still lingering on my lips, her scent wrapped around my skin like a ghost. And still, still I couldn’t relax. Not until Ronnie was laid out. Cold. Gone.

Southside and Rich didn’t waste no time. They went straight to the safe, pulling out the heavy shit. Black matte steel, extended clips, and enough ammo to put a city on pause.

King leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes low like he already knew what was coming.

“Fuck nigga requested a meeting,” King started. “Said he wanted to talk to Pops and me about cutting the middleman and about us supplying him directly.”

“Cutting the middleman…” I repeated slowly, jaw locking. That was bold. Disrespectful bold.

“He had a plan,” King said with a bitter smirk. “Probably been had one. Been making moves behind backs for a minute.”

“Where’s the meeting?” I asked, though I already had a feeling.

“Rico warehouse. On our side of town.” King’s jaw tightened like the conversation tasted foul in his mouth.

“Your Pops looking to sell to him?”

He nodded We agreed to the meet ‘cause we knew something shady was happening. We just needed the final piece”

“Does Pops know?”

“Nah. Not yet.” He paused, then met my eyes. “I’ll text you the address and time. Let me know if you need backup.”

“Always appreciate it. Good looks.”

King stepped back, grabbed his jacket, and before walking out, he paused. He turned to Rich, reached for him, and pulled him into a tight, one-armed hug like brothers who knew real pain.

“We gon’ make sure this nigga pays. For Lia. For everything .” His voice dropped, almost cracking, but he held it. Then he left.

The room fell into silence, heavy and hot like a storm was brewing inside four walls. I looked at Rich, then at Southside, who was finishing up counting clips.

“We ready to ride.” I said it like a vow. Like a funeral had already been planned.

I walked out with them, locking up the warehouse behind us.

Four black Escalades waited like hearse trucks.

Death was coming, and we were its delivery boys.

My crew finished loading up… no hesitation, no nerves.

Just that quiet readiness killers have when they know the job’s already written in blood.

Rich climbed in the front passenger seat beside me.

Southside followed into the same truck. Our soldiers filled the rest. We pulled off in silence, rolling deep through the city that raised us lights off, windows down, hearts full of revenge.

I leaned back in my seat, hand still in my pocket, fingers gripping the lace I took from Stormi.

Her thong. A piece of her with me in war.

And Ronnie? That coward was already dead in my head. He just ain’t laid down yet.

We hit both of Ronnie’s trap houses first. Pulled up back-to-back like we were delivering death on schedule. Black trucks lined the block like shadows with engines, and our crew posted outside like statues with their eyes on the doors, fingers on triggers. No words. Just purpose.

Me, Rich, and Southside stepped into the first trap. Stale weed smoke hit me in the face, and the smell of sweat and neglect clung to the air. Three of Ronnie’s boys were sunk into the couch, controllers in hand, like the streets hadn’t just declared war.

“Seth?” The one in the middle looked up, his voice shaky, like he already felt the Reaper creeping up his spine. They all snapped to attention, dropping the controllers, eyes darting like rats looking for holes in the floor.

“Where’s Ronnie?” My voice came out low, calm. But I wasn’t calm.

“He’s not here,” the one on the right said too quick. The dude on the far end side-eyed him, his body tensing like he wanted to snatch the words back.

“Said he was going on a business trip, be back in two days.” The middle one chimed in, and just like that, the third one elbowed him hard in the ribs. That told me everything.

“Pop.” One to the dome. He dropped without even a twitch. Blood sprayed the couch like a warning. The other two jumped like roaches, bodies twitching like they could outrun what was coming.

“So what’s his plan?”

“Seth, man. I don’t know!” The one on the left panicked. “He said after this trip we’d be eating more and not under anybody’s thumb.”

I looked at Rich. He already knew what time it was.

“Pop. Pop.”

Two more bodies slumped against the sofa, blood painting the drywall behind them. They weren’t loyal to Ronnie. Hell, they weren’t loyal to nobody. That made them dangerous. Floaters. Opportunists. Niggas like that couldn’t be trusted in a world built on loyalty.

Southside pulled the bottle from his duffle, lit the rag with a single flick, and tossed it on the stained carpet like he was handing hell its matchstick.

We didn’t run, we walked out as fire started to dance behind us. Slow. Like kings leaving a throne room made of flames.

Trap House two.