Page 4 of A Kingpin’s Weakness

Seth

I was pulling an all-nighter, cleaning up rookie shit. Ronnie’s rookie shit. I should’ve let him drown in it, but when money’s short and bodies drop, I don’t have the luxury of sitting still.

He’d been coming up short for months, always with a new excuse, always with that greasy grin like I wouldn't notice. But this was different. Tonight was supposed to be the drop payment in full, plus interest. Instead, one of his young boys got lit up in his warehouse.

I’m no Annalise Keating, but even I know when a scene stinks and this whole setup reeked of desperation and secrets.

Rich, my lieutenant, hit my line before the blood dried. Said the kid was barely hanging on, hospital bound. I didn’t get out of bed right away. The redbone I picked up at the club was still putting in work, so I let her finish. No need to mess up her rhythm ‘cause of Ronnie’s bullshit.

But the second I dropped S3 off at school, I was gone. No breakfast. No calls. Just me, the Glock, and a growing suspicion that Ronnie was playing me for a fool. He was about to learn I was nobody’s fool.

My mind should’ve been on business. Strictly.

But the second I stepped up to the ER doors, all that went out the window.

There she was. Thick in all the right places, standing there like a walking distraction sent to test my focus.

Her body pulled me in first; no lie, but it was her face that held me.

There was something in her eyes. Fear. Sadness.

Like she was standing outside the gates of hell, bracing herself to walk through.

Even with all that pain written across her face, her mocha skin still glowed when the sun hit it.

She didn’t even know how bad she shook the world just by being in it.

And maybe I’m cold when it comes to business, but I was raised with some damn manners. So, I walked up, calm, respectful, offered my help. Figured I could ease her into that building and maybe just maybe help her through the pain after.

What I didn’t expect was that she was the sister of the young soldier who got shot. The same kid Ronnie had running his errands. The same kid who was now the key to finding out what really went down in that warehouse.

Yeah, Ronnie owed me money. But now I needed answers. And I was getting them the second that young nigga woke up.

“Ronnie moving funny.” The words came out before Rich even sat all the way down.

I stood there at the window, watching every damn person that walked by the ER doors, waiting to see if the kid Noah was gonna pull through. One thing was certain, Ronnie wasn’t getting to him before I did.

“How we playing it?” Rich asked, nodding in Ronnie’s direction.

I didn’t answer right away. Just gave the signal for Ronnie to come over.

He saw it. Hesitated for a second but he came.

He knew better. Ronnie was old school. Back in the day, he and my pops were like brothers.

You saw Seth Sr., and Ronnie was never far behind.

That history earned him a lot of passes over the years.

But last night, all them passes expired.

Too many bricks and too much money unaccounted for.

One of his runners shot and damn near dead.

And Ronnie. Moving like he lost control or like he was hiding something.

I wasn’t hurting for cash. But I needed the streets to understand you don’t fumble my product and walk away breathing easily. Ronnie was the only one left acting like he didn’t get the message. And I was about to make sure he got it loud and clear.

Ronnie stepped up, smooth as ever. “Youngblood, you didn’t have to come all the way down here. I would’ve touched bases with you.” His voice had that practiced ease, like he was trying to keep things cool, but I wasn’t buying it.

Ronnie hit me with that fast talk the second he stepped up. Niggas like him I always keep my guard up. They’re always spinning words, trying to talk their way outta trouble or into some. But Ronnie, he couldn’t fast talk me. Not when he wasn’t saying shit worth listening to.

“How the hell do you keep finding yourself in these situations, Ronnie?” My voice low, steady like I’m calling him out but leaving the door open for the truth.

I was curious, real curious. Out of all the soldiers under me, Ronnie the oldest one and was my biggest fuck-up.

I had niggas younger than me, my own age, that I trusted on the field before I ever trusted Ronnie.

He’d been in the game the longest, too. Truth is, Ronnie should’ve been in my position.

But he lacked what it took; the grit, the brains, the backbone to be a real leader. And that’s on him.

This game was my bread and butter. It was how I took care of my family, made sure my mom never had to work another day in her life, how I promised my son a different path one without the struggles I knew all too well.

Life was good, until I was 14. That’s when my father got killed.

Cold blood. Open case. Killer never found.

That day, the streets took a piece of me.

Before the dirt hit his casket, I swore I’d send his killer straight to him.

Sixteen years later, I still haven’t made good on that promise.

Shit eats me up at night. I’ve lost count of how many niggas I sent to meet their maker but not the one who took my pops.

It’s my heart that keeps trying to help these young niggas out even when it ain’t easy. I ain’t just some cold hitter; I’m trying to make sure the next generation don’t get swallowed up like I almost did.

“The moment Noah wakes up, I’m the first to talk to him,” I said, steadying my voice.

I left Ronnie with that. The moment the words left my mouth, I turned and walked out of the waiting area, heading down the hall.

My stomach was twisting so tight it felt like it was trying to crawl out my back.

Any other morning, I’d be sitting at the kitchen table, eating one of my mom’s breakfast plates hot, greasy, and homemade.

But not today. Today, I was stuck with vending machine food.

Kneeling down to grab a bag of Lay’s potato chips from the vending machine, I caught a glimpse of her.

Even with everything she was dealing with, she was beautiful; an effortless beauty written all over her face.

Her natural curls were pinned up in a messy bun, with a couple of tendrils falling loose on each side, framing her face.

Her clothes were loose, but her pants hugged her curves just right, showing off that stacked figure.

I couldn’t just walk past her like that.

I decided to grab a few things for her before making my way over.

"You hungry?” I asked, standing in front of her.

She looked up, and for a moment, the noise of the hospital disappeared.

Her eyes met mine and hit me harder than I expected.

Jo was known for a lot of shit; begging, stealing, being in places she didn’t belong.

She was a regular to anyone pushing weight.

But who would’ve guessed she brought someone like this into the world?

"Thanks, but I don’t have much of an appetite, " she said softly, glancing away and back down, fidgeting with her hands.

I took that as my cue to sit. She side-eyed me, probably trying to figure out why a man like me was choosing to sit beside her in the middle of all this chaos.

" Seth," I said, introducing myself. I didn’t press for her name. I wanted her to give it willingly just to hear her say something again.

Then she hit me with it, calm but sharp.

"Listen, I know Noah probably fucked some shit up last night, but you all being here trying to be intimidating doesn’t help the family. I don’t even know if my brother’s going to wake up, and y’all already look like you came to collect."

I nodded slowly, letting her words land. She wasn’t all the way wrong. I came to collect just not from Noah.

“That’s not why I’m here.” My voice came out calm, but I could feel the weight behind it. She wasn’t the type to take words at face value.

“Then why are you here?” She turned in her seat, fully facing me now. Her eyes locked on mine. They were sharp, steady, like she was already peeling me apart. Like she was waiting to catch the lie before it left my mouth. I held her gaze.

“I need to know what happened.”

She let out a dry laugh, the kind filled with disbelief and frustration.

“What happened was you guys use young boys to get their hands dirty, so you can stay out the light but collect all the money.”

I paused, letting that land.

“Oh.” Not sarcastic. Not defensive. Just the truth behind her words hitting a little too close.

Because I’d heard that before; hell, I’d said it before. When I was younger. When I was one of those boys. And now, hearing it from her, with all that pain and fire behind it? It hit differently. She was right. At least partially. But she didn’t know everything.

That might’ve been Ronnie’s plan but not mine.

I got my hands dirty early on. Started as a runner, corner boy, whatever they needed me to be.

Took risks when I ain’t even have the facial hair to match the attitude.

But I learned. I watched. I moved smarter.

Now I move work clean Quiet and Effortlessly.

My name ring bells statewide. And if you weren’t buying in bulk, we didn’t have business.

I was your plug’s plug’s plug. See, I didn’t need little boys in too-deep carrying weight they couldn’t lift.

That was Ronnie’s way; just lazy, loud, and reckless.

Mine was calculated and Mine was legacy.

So yeah, she could be mad at him but me I wasn’t the villain in this story. Not yet.

"What can I help you with?" She asked with attitude, arms crossed, jaw tight. Clearly irritated with me.

I didn’t flinch. I wasn’t Jo, and I damn sure wasn’t Ronnie.

Her fire didn’t burn me it made me lean in closer.

She was bold Raw and Said whatever was on her mind with no filter, and I respected the hell out of that.

She had that kind of mouth that could shut a room down or own it.

She was a firecracker, and I could only imagine what that mouth could do if it was wrapped around, I cut the thought off. Not the time.

I opened the pretzel bag and pulled one out, bringing it gently to her lips. She stared at me like I was wasting my time.

"Eat."

I didn’t raise my voice. Didn’t need to. Just gave her the command, low and steady. She huffed but finally opened her mouth, biting off the smallest piece like it hurt her pride to accept it. That was fine. A win was a win.

Next, I cracked open the water bottle and handed it to her.

This time, she didn’t hesitate. Drank like her body had been waiting for it, nearly finishing half in one go.

Good , I thought. She might not say it, but she needed someone to look out for her.

And whether she liked it or not, that someone might just be me.

"Listen, my beef is with Ronnie, not Noah," I told her, voice low, steady. She was still tense, eyes full of heat, but I wasn’t here to fuel it. I needed clarity, not chaos.

"If us being here is making this harder for you and your family, we’ll leave. I just need to be the first one to talk to Noah."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"I want to make sure his story matches Ronnie’s."

"And if it doesn’t?"

"Then that’s something I handle with Ronnie."

She rolled her eyes hard enough that I thought they might stick. Just the sound of that man’s name seemed to set her off. I couldn’t blame her.

"Look," I said, softening my tone, "I’m going to respect your wishes. I’ll clear everybody out so you and your family can have space. But just promise me one thing." I looked her dead in the eyes. " Let me talk to Noah first ."

"Family." She repeated the word with a dry laugh. Not the kind that came from joy, this one had weight to it.

There was pain in that sound. Years of it. I didn’t press her. I’ve learned not to prey on people's trauma. If they want to talk, they will. And she did.

"You got a front-row seat to my fucked-up family," she muttered, eyes unfocused, like she wasn’t even fully here. "Why are we so fucked up? Why can’t I just have a normal family?"

It wasn’t a question meant for an answer, it was her bleeding out loud.

I didn’t try to fix it. Didn’t offer empty words or false comfort.

I just handed her the pretzels and kept quiet.

She took the bag without looking at me. I finished off the one she’d bit earlier, then opened my own bag of Lays, leaning back in the chair beside her, and let her sit with her thoughts.

I didn’t need to talk. I just needed her to know she wasn’t alone in that moment.

“Stormi.” The word caught me off guard. I looked at her, eyebrows slightly raised.

“My name is Stormi. Stormi Knight.” She said it clearly, like she was reclaiming something. I nodded, letting it settle between us.

“Nice to meet you, Stormi,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand. Her grip was firm, warm stronger than I expected, but I liked that.

I rose from the chair, giving her space. I could take a hint.

“Make sure you eat,” I told her, nodding toward the snacks.

Then I turned and walked off, heading back toward the waiting area.

No theatrics. No lingering. Just gave her what she asked for which was space.

I gathered my crew, gave Ronnie and Mike a look that told them it was time to go, and we left the hospital.