Page 19

T he air was thick with tension the moment I walked into the room. Felix, my old family friend—my ally—sat there with a cocky grin plastered across his face, like he was enjoying the chaos he’d set in motion. My mother was in the corner, arms crossed, her gaze steady, unwavering as usual.

Uncle King stood by the door, his presence silent but commanding. They didn’t trust me to handle this alone. No matter how much they respected Felix or how long he'd been in the family, they didn’t trust me to make the right decisions if things got out of hand.

And I wasn’t about to back down.

Felix leaned back in his chair, swirling a glass of tequila, his eyes never leaving me.

“Damier,” he said with a slow smile. “You are days late. I almost cut ties with the Knight Family over this, you know. The law—I don’t deal with the law. And that warehouse raid? You know who’s behind it, don’t you? You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who knows how to handle business when shit gets messy. So, I know why you didn’t contact me about all of this.”

The words hit me like a slap to the face. I started grinding my teeth, my fists itching to reach out and do something. But I kept my calm. I had to. Felix’s comment about my abilities? It was too much. I felt my temper flare.

“Don’t talk to me like that, my nigga” I said, my voice steady but carrying a dangerous undertone. “I built this empire, Felix. When my family was crumbling, I stepped in. I brought in billions. I cleaned up the mess my father left when he was dying from cancer to handle his business. You think I don’t know how to handle shit? You think I’m not fit for this position?”

Felix’s smile didn’t falter, but there was an edge to his eyes now. “You’re not fit for this, Damier. I’m starting to think you’re more like a puppet than a king. You’ve got the money, but you don’t have the instincts, the power. You’re trying to play with the big dogs, but you’re not in the same league. You’re still a pup.”

The insult hit me harder than it should have. My eyes narrowed, and for the first time, I felt a real wave of rage building inside me. He had the nerve to question my capabilities? He who had been sitting back, waiting for me to make the moves, waiting for me to put the money in his pockets? This old nigga was tripping.

“You are insulting my profession, Felix,” I said, each word deliberate, “and you are insulting my intelligence. I’ve made you money. I’ve put you back on top. And now you want to talk to me like I’m some young chump who doesn’t know how to move in this business?”

Felix’s eyes hardened, and the room seemed to close in around us. There was tension thick enough to slice with a knife.

“I tried to, but I don’t respect you, Damier,” he said, his voice low and final.

I stood up then, the words hitting me like a knife in the gut. I had to fight the urge to charge at him. “Don’t trust me? After everything I’ve done for you? You want to disrespect me in front of my mother and uncle? Nigga, I will kill you.”

The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating. My mother looked between us, her face betraying nothing, but I could tell she was waiting for this to blow over. Uncle King shifted on his feet, his hand sliding under his jacket, ready for whatever might come next.

But I wasn’t backing down.

Felix’s crew weren’t just standing still, either. I heard the telltale sound of guns cocking, the sharp click of metal against metal. It was a clear threat, and I didn’t flinch. Not now. Not ever.

My mother’s voice broke the silence, cold and firm. “Felix, you’ve made your point. Damier’s in charge here. You’ve made your money, but don’t think you can push him like this. If you want to cut ties, you can. But insulting my son into violence is not happening.”

Felix cocked his head to the side, his smirk never leaving his face. “Well, tell him to handle it then, Mrs. Knight. He’s the one who needs to step up. He’s the one who’s supposed to be in charge.”

I cut him off before my mother could respond. My temper was on edge, and I wasn’t about to let him get the last word. “I said I’m handling it. You want to tug at your balls like you’re the only one in this business with a dick, but let me remind you—you ain’t the only one with one, and mine is bigger. Don’t ever talk to me like I’m some young rookie, my nigga. I made you money. I brought you back from the dead.”

I took a step forward, my voice growing louder, the heat of anger coursing through me. “I don’t stand behind you, Felix. I stand next to you. You don’t get to act like you’re my fucking superior.”

The room fell silent. My mother’s gaze was sharp, but she didn’t intervene. Uncle King moved slightly, his hand resting on the handle of his gun, though he hadn’t drawn it. Felix’s men hadn’t moved either, their fingers still on their triggers, but there was something about the way they looked at me now—they weren’t sure what to make of this situation.

I turned on my heel and walked out, slamming the door behind me. The cold air hit me like a slap in the face, but I didn’t care. I didn’t need to be in there any longer.

My mother and Uncle King emerged a few minutes later, and my mother’s eyes were fierce with concern.

“We’re leaving now,” she said, her voice low and commanding.

I didn’t respond; I didn’t trust myself to say anything. I couldn’t let my emotions get the best of me again. I could feel the anger radiating from her, and I didn’t need to hear it. Not now.

The ride back to the resort was silent. The hum of the Maybach’s engine was the only sound between us as I stared out the window, watching the lights blur past.

Finally, my mother broke the silence. “You’ve got to clean this up, Damier. You’re letting your ego get in the way, and laying up with Dream is clouding your judgment. Maybe that’s why you’re missing all the key facts about Damian. You need to stop acting like everything’s okay. You can’t keep hiding behind this... this... distraction named Dream!” She waved a hand, frustrated. “If you don’t handle the situation with Damian and fix the warehouse mess, I’ll have to take you out of your position. I’ll put Uncle King in charge. You can go be a fucking house nigga to another bitch who doesn’t give a fuck about you!”

I stayed silent, letting her words hang in the air. My mother was always passive-aggressive, and I wasn’t about to argue with her about her feelings on my personal life.

When we reached the resort, I stepped out of the car without a word to her. I didn’t want to talk to her anymore. I didn’t want to hear how disappointed she was in me. Not right now.

Uncle King caught up with me, his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, nephew,” he said quietly. “We’re gonna fix this. We’ll get Damian. We’ll take care of whoever’s left who betrayed us. You’ll stay in your position. Trust me, I would never take your position. Your mother is just power-tripping like always. We got this.”

I looked into his eyes, and for the first time all day, I felt some relief. He wasn’t going to let me fail. He wasn’t going to let them take me down. I nodded, grateful for his reassurance.

I walked back to my room, and the sight that greeted me almost made me forget about everything that had just happened. The room was dimly lit with candles, the soft glow creating a peaceful ambiance. Low R she just looked at me as if she were searching for something deep inside. The silence hung between us. But as she nodded, I knew we were about to face whatever came next together.

As the evening wore on, the questions that had been swirling in my mind didn’t seem to matter as much anymore. For now, I had her, and maybe that was enough to keep me from falling apart.

But deep down, I knew I couldn’t ignore the darkness forever, and I couldn’t let her into it, not completely.

As I lay there with her, the weight of everything I had shared still heavy on my chest, I hoped that whatever was between us—this fragile connection—wouldn’t break under the weight of everything I had just revealed.

I hoped she was strong enough to handle it.

And I hoped I was, too.

$$$$$

The plane touched down in California, its wheels screeching slightly against the tarmac as Dream smiled across the aisle at me. I hadn’t said much during the flight. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk—I just didn’t have it in me. My thoughts were elsewhere, drowning out her cheerful babble as she described how peaceful Mexico had been. I couldn’t focus on the beauty of the place, the serenity of it. All I could think about was my next move. I wasn’t even sure if I had heard all her words.

“...and I can't wait to go back,” she finished, her voice light, but I only half-registered it. The trip had been a temporary escape, a fleeting moment of peace, but nothing was resolved.

She was talking about the beach, about the sunsets, but it was all lost on me. I wanted to focus on her, on us, but there was too much on my plate. Too much waiting for me back in Cali.

The flight was short—too short for my mind to settle. I turned my head as we waited to get the sign that we could get up. I looked out the small oval window as the city came into view. California . The land where everything started and where it was all about to shift again.

I thought back to the night before. After Imani and I fucked, she fell asleep. I looked at my phone, and my mother was texting me to come to her room. I got dressed and went to her room, which was above mine.

It was late. I could feel the weight of the night in the air as I sat on the balcony. The only sound was the faint crackle of the blunt I was smoking. The ocean was even still, not a wave in sight.

My mother, sharp as ever, wasn’t one to let anything go unnoticed. She was on one of her rants—her usual complaints about me not having my head in the game.

“You think you’re untouchable,” she’d said, the words sharp. “You can’t keep running this empire like you’re some thug in the street. You’re not the same kid anymore, Damier. You need to get your mind right and stop being distracted by women.”

I exhaled a cloud of smoke and stared out over the city, my mind already miles ahead.

“I hear you,” I muttered, not really listening. I didn’t need her lecture tonight. I didn’t need her words in my head.

But King—he was different. He always was. The silence from him was filled with wisdom. He wasn’t trying to talk over me like my mother. He let me breathe for a minute before cutting through the noise.

“Damier,” King said calmly, looking at me with a quiet intensity. “You’re missing the bigger picture. As soon as we land, we hit the streets. First stop? Tay. We need to get her to talk. Find out who set her up because I know she ain’t do this on her own.”

I looked at him then, his face serious but steady. King wasn’t about to let me get too deep into my own head. He’d seen enough of the world to know when it was time to act.

I nodded. I didn’t have to say much. I trusted him more than anyone.

“We get her to talk, and then we go from there,” King continued, putting out his cigarette and tapping his fingers against the stone balcony. “You got too many loose ends, Damier. Too many people who want you down. It’s time to clean it up.”

I nodded again, but I wasn’t listening to my mother anymore. I wasn’t listening to the frustration building inside me. King’s words—those were the ones that mattered. They always had.

I snapped out of my thoughts when Imani tapped me so we could get off.

We deplaned and made our way onto the runway, but I wasn’t in the moment. Imani was beside me, still talking about Mexico while we waited for my car service to pull up, but my mind was already on the task ahead.

I hugged her and kissed her lightly on the lips as she mentioned how she was glad to be home. My hands lingered on her waist for a moment longer than necessary, and I saw the slight smile on her lips, but my mind wasn’t there. I was a million miles away, focused on the business that awaited me.

“You good?” she asked, eyes searching mine.

I nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. She could tell I wasn’t all there. She always could.

“I’ll be fine,” I muttered. “You go home, and I’ll get with you soon,” I told Imani. I watched her slide into the back of a Maybach and got in the one behind hers.

Later That Night…

Uncle King and I hit the streets like we were just two regular niggas with only a few thousand dollars to our names. There was something about this kind of grind—the way we moved through the city—that brought me back to reality. It wasn’t the money, the power, the empire. It was the rawness, the struggle.

King was behind the wheel of his Porsche, but tonight, I was the passenger. He always did this to me when I felt like I was failing. He always used these times to remind me that I was a boss. He took me around the city, checking in on our workers, collecting cash from various spots, and checking the pulse of everything we had running on the streets. I didn’t say much as I smoked, leaning back in the leather seat.

We didn’t talk about anything personal. We didn’t need to. King’s eyes were always scanning—watching, calculating while Tupac played in the background. I knew he had the lay of the land. I was just along for the ride, letting the smoke cloud my thoughts, trying to shut everything out, trying to clear my head. But it didn’t work.

By the time we were deep in the city, the night had swallowed the day, and the clock ticked well into the early hours of the morning.

One a.m.

It was time for Tay.

By late night, we were parked outside a small house in Reseda. The air felt heavy, and the street was quieter than usual. The world felt like it was holding its breath.

We waited in the car, watching the house, waiting for her to return. It felt like hours, but it wasn’t long before we saw her stumbling back toward her door from an Uber, clearly drunk, swaying as she walked.

King and I moved quickly, silently. She didn’t see us coming. She was too drunk to resist, too scared to fight back. We shoved her inside, slamming the door behind us.

She looked terrified when she saw us, her face draining of color as she realized who had come for her.

“Please,” she stammered, voice trembling. “I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t have a choice.”

I didn’t want to hear her excuses. “Who set you up?” I demanded.

She hesitated, looking between me and King. It was clear she was trying to figure out how to save herself.

Finally, she cracked before we could say anything.

“It was Kita,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “She made me do it. She gave me the drugs. Said I had no choice.”

That was all I needed to hear. It was Kita. The mastermind behind everything. Tay was just a pawn in her game, but that didn’t change what had to be done.

Without a word, King pulled out his gun. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t wait for any more explanations. He just put a bullet in her head.

It was quick and efficient. Necessary.

I stood over her body, my mind racing, but I felt numb. My thoughts weren’t on her anymore. They were on the bigger picture. Kita. Troy. Damian.

King stood beside me, his grin widening. “Two birds with one stone. Kita and Troy are next. Then, we go get Damian from Canada.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My thoughts weren’t on the next move, on cleaning up the family mess. My mind kept drifting back to Imani. To my Dream.

Our session echoed in my head. I was a narcissist.

I couldn’t get that out of my mind.

I drove home, but I knew I couldn’t keep pretending like everything was okay. I needed to lay low for a couple of weeks in Vegas to clear my head and get my mind right. The streets were loud and chaotic, but it wasn’t what I needed right now.

I needed silence.