Page 25
T he bathroom lights hummed quietly, their glow casting a faint, golden sheen over the sleek marble tiles. I leaned over the polished sink, staring into the mirror at a face I barely recognized. Bloodshot eyes, hollow cheeks, and a haunted expression. I looked like a man unraveling—and I was.
The bottle of Don Julio rested on the counter next to me, already halfway empty. I gripped it tightly, lifting it to my lips for another swig. The burn in my throat was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality, but even that was starting to slip.
“You think he’s coming for you, don’t you?” The voice was sharp and cruel, and it echoed in my mind like a bad song on repeat.
I shook my head, muttering under my breath. “Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.”
“He knows where you are, Damian. He’s always known. You brought her here, and now they’re coming. You think you can run forever?”
I slammed the bottle down on the counter, the glass rattling against the sink. My breathing was shallow, my heart racing. “He ain’t coming,” I whispered, trying to convince myself. “He doesn’t know shit.”
“Oh, but he does,” the voice taunted. “You saw the way she looked when she got here. She was followed. You’re not safe here. Not anywhere.”
I gripped the edge of the sink. “I’m not scared of that nigga,” I muttered, my voice barely audible. “If he comes, I’ll send someone to kill him first. You hear me? I’ll send someone to take his ass out.”
The voice laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that made my skin crawl. “You’ve always been scared of him. He controls you, Damian. Always has, always will.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, the memory of our first real fallout hitting me like a brick.
It was six years ago, before I looked at Arika, back when Damier still trusted me enough to let me manage one of the Knight family’s warehouses alone. The money was good, but it wasn’t enough for me. I started skimming off the top—small amounts at first, nothing he’d notice. But Damier noticed everything.
I still remember the way he stormed into the warehouse that day, his presence commanding the room. He didn’t even yell. That wasn’t his style. He just walked up to me, his eyes cold, and said, “You been taking money off the top, Damian?”
I tried to play it cool, but the look in his eyes made my stomach drop. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “You really think I’m stupid, huh? I’ve been watching you, little bro. You’ve been skimming, and you’re lucky I don’t kill you for it.”
I clenched my fists, my blood boiling. “You ain’t gonna do shit,” I snapped. “You don’t control me, Damier. You are my twin, not my boss.”
His laugh was low and dangerous. “Huh? You’re only standing here because I let you. Don’t forget that.”
He walked out after that, leaving me standing there humiliated in front of our cousins. He didn’t fire me, didn’t punish me. He only put my cousin over the money. That was worse than punishing me. He let me stay under supervision, but I knew I’d never be more than a pawn in his game. I hated him for it.
The memory faded, replaced by the cruel laughter of the voices in my head.
I gripped the sink tighter, my chest heaving. “I hate him,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I hate him so much.”
“You should,” the voice replied. “He ruined your life. He made you lose your mind. He’s the reason you’re hiding like a coward.”
“I’m not hiding,” I growled. “I’m surviving.”
The voice laughed again, a chilling sound that echoed in the small bathroom. “Keep telling yourself that, Damian. But he’s coming for you. And when he does, you won’t stand a chance.”
The bathroom door creaked open, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. Kita stepped inside, her face pale and concerned.
“Damian?” she said softly, her eyes scanning the scene. “Who are you talking to?”
I stared at her, the bottle still clutched in my hand. For a moment, I didn’t say anything. Then, finally, I muttered, “My friend.”
Her brows furrowed as she stepped closer. “Your friend? What friend?”
I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “He’s in my head. He’s been there for years. The voices I hear tell me shit, fuck with me. Sometimes they stop, but they always come back.”
Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch my arm. “Damian… why didn’t you tell me?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “What difference does it make? I’m already fucked up. And now you’re here, carrying my baby, and I can’t even guarantee we’re safe. He’s gonna find me, Kita. He’s gonna lock me away and starve me like my grandfather did my great-uncle Michael, and there ain’t shit I can do about it. I know he isn’t just going to blow my head off.”
She shook her head, her voice steady. “You’re not the only one with demons, Damian. I have bipolar depression. I’ve had it for years. That’s part of why I… why I felt drawn to you. I saw the pill bottles. I knew you were fighting something, too.”
Her words caught me off guard. I stared at her, my mind racing.
“You think that’s supposed to make me feel better?” I snapped, pulling away from her touch. “I don’t need a fuckin’ support group, Kita. I need to figure out how to stay alive. How to keep us alive. I know he is going to kill you and my baby too.”
She didn’t flinch, her voice calm but firm. “I’m not trying to fix you, Damian. But you can’t keep fighting this alone. You need help.”
“Help?” I scoffed, the bitterness spilling over. “You think I can go to therapy? Talk about how my own brother has me hiding in a fucking foreign country?”
She grabbed my face, forcing me to look at her. “Damian, stop. You’re letting him live rent-free in your head. You’re letting him win.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. My chest tightened, and before I could stop it, tears spilled down my face. I hated crying. It made me feel weak.
The voices in my head laughed louder, mocking me. “He’s coming for you, Damian. He’s coming.”
I covered my ears, sinking to the floor. “Shut up!” I screamed. “Shut the fuck up!”
Kita knelt beside me, pulling me into her arms. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”
For the first time in a long time, I let myself lean into someone else.
I snapped out of the moment, remembering I had a meeting with my new crew in Canada. They were some Italian niggas who I had met at the club that were from here and were hungry for some Mexican product. I told them my family was the only one with that plug, so I pulled some invisible strings to link them. They knew my beef with Damier, at least what I told them, just so they wouldn’t speak my name to him. I needed money and my family’s plug, so I made it happen, even though it was risky. There was no way I could touch Damier, so I was going to continue to hit his pockets. He was going to supply me one way or another.
“I’m about to have some niggas come through. Open the door for them while I shower, and then take yo’ ass straight to the room, and don’t come out until I say so.”
Kita nodded and then left the bathroom.
I got in the shower, the voices still going, but I pushed them to the back of my mind as much as I could so I could get through this meeting.
$$$$$
My apartment smelled of expensive cologne and cigars, with my new Italian crew lounging in my living room as if it was their shit. I adjusted my black Versace sweater and Cuban chain around my neck as I stepped out of the hallway and into their line of sight.
“There he is,” one of them said, a smug grin on his face.
His name was Marco, the mouthpiece of the crew. The rest of them—Luca, Sal, and Enzo—watched me carefully. They were all dressed sharp, like they had just stepped out of a mafia movie, but their eyes told me they weren’t here to play.
“You’re late,” Marco said, his voice clipped.
I ignored him, taking a seat across from them. “Nigga, don’t try to check me. Let’s get to it.”
Marco leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “We need to talk about your brother.”
“Do we?” I said flatly, keeping my face unreadable.
Marco chuckled darkly. “We weren’t fond of Damier’s attitude when we met him. He’s got this... superiority complex. Like he thinks he’s untouchable. We’re not interested in being under him. We want the product, not the man. He made it a point to tell us to respect him. I don’t respect anyone.”
The room went silent for a beat, tension thick in the air.
“You want the work?” I asked calmly, leaning back in my chair. “Then you respect him. That’s the deal. You respect him, and you’ll get what you need. I want the nigga dead, but he has what we need.”
Sal scoffed, shaking his head. “And if we don’t? What then? One wrong word from Damier, and he’s out of here?”
I was irritated, but I didn’t take the bait. “Listen,” I said slowly, my tone steady. “I get it. My brother rubs people the wrong way. Hell, he rubs me the wrong way. But if you think you’re going to rob him or take him out, you’re dead wrong. Only I make that call.”
The room fell into a tense silence again. I could feel their eyes on me, judging every word, every movement.
“Damier’s untouchable,” I firmly said. “And not because I’m protecting him. It’s because there’s a bigger picture here. You fuck with him, you fuck with the entire Knight empire. And trust me, you don’t want that smoke.”
The Italians exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. Finally, Marco leaned back, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Fair enough. But let’s hope your brother learns how to keep his mouth in check. For all our sakes.”
I nodded, standing up. “I know for a fact that is your first and last time seeing him. He does the deal, and then he passes over the dirty work to his team. This meeting is over, though. You’ve got what you came for. Don’t fuck it up.”
The Italians filed out one by one, their presence leaving a heavy weight in the room. As the door clicked shut behind them, I let out a slow breath, the tension in my shoulders refusing to ease.
I stepped into the bedroom to find Kita sitting on the edge of the bed, her shoulders hunched her face buried in her hands. She was crying softly, her body shaking with each breath.
“What’s wrong now?” I said, keeping my voice neutral. I was too tired to deal with more chaos tonight.
She looked up at me, her eyes red and swollen. “I called my mom,” she said, her voice trembling. “I found out... Troy’s dead.”
I froze. “What?”
“They found his remains in the desert days ago,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Blown up. They said he’s gone, Damian. Gone.”
I frowned, the image of Troy’s mangled body flashing in my mind. I knew immediately who was responsible. Damier. This had his signature all over it. But what pissed me off more was that Kita had made a call without letting me know.
“You called your mom?” I repeated in a sharper tone.
She nodded, tears streaming down her face. “I needed to know?—”
“Are you fucking stupid?” I snapped, cutting her off. “You know how dangerous that is? You don’t think niggas are watching us?”
She flinched at my tone, but I couldn’t stop. The anger, the paranoia—it was bubbling over. “You wanna end up like your weak ass brother? You wanna get me killed? Get yourself killed? That baby killed?”
Her face crumpled, and for a split second, I wanted to hit her. My hand twitched at my side, but the voice in my head stopped me.
“Don’t,” it hissed. “She’s pregnant. Don’t be stupid.”
I took a step back, running a hand over my face. The voice in my head was right. I couldn’t lose control. Not now. Not like this.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“Shut up,” I muttered, snatching her phone off the nightstand. I scrolled through the call history, my blood boiling. “No more calls. You hear me? None. You wanna be reckless, go back to Cali. Let Damier kill you and that baby. I don’t give a fuck, but don’t drag me into your bullshit.”
Her sobs grew louder, but I didn’t care. My chest felt tight, the voices whispering again. “He’s coming for you, Damian,” they said, laughing darkly. “He’s coming.”
I dropped the phone onto the dresser, gripping the edge to steady myself. Kita was still crying, but her voice felt distant, drowned out by the chaos in my head.
“Damian...” she said softly, but I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t think. All I could do was listen to the voices.
And they wouldn’t stop laughing.