Page 6

T he clock blinked 2:04 a.m. in bold red, lighting up the car’s dark interior as Dream and I pulled up to the empty warehouse. As I looked over, watching her eyelids droop in exhaustion, my anger simmered down for a moment. She was like a calm wave washing over me, softening the edge of the night. Her presence reminded me there was still peace somewhere in my life, even in a world that felt ready to turn on me at any second.

But I wasn’t here for peace.

“Stay in the car, baby. I’m going to holler at my fam for a second. I won’t be long,” I murmured, leaning over and kissing her lips. She looked like she wanted to say something, but her expression shifted, and she nodded, trusting me.

I stepped closer to the warehouse. It stood like a silent witness, emptied of everything I kept there—everything we kept there. This spot was supposed to be off-limits―untouchable. Yet someone had found a way to clear it out without leaving a trace, except for the insult I felt at being played.

My mother stood by the warehouse entrance, calm and collected, the way she always was. Next to her were Uncle King, Hocus, and a few others from our tight-knit crew. Hocus had his head turned, watching the streets for any eyes on us, while King tapped his fingers against the barrel of his gun, his frustration almost a mirror of my own.

“Where we at wit’ it, my nigga?” I asked as I approached, my voice low but pointed.

“The cameras were tampered with, boss, but…” Hocus exchanged a glance with me. “Seems they didn’t know about that second layer your boy Lil Ken set up for you.”

Of course, they didn’t know. That system was invisible unless you knew exactly what to look for. A little security gift from the homie from college, Lil Ken Demon himself. Every piece of footage fed into his server, and it would only go dark if I was the one to shut it off.

I turned to King. “Any word on who these niggas think they are?”

“Shit,” he started shaking his head. “These were pros, nephew, or at least, they thought they were. But Lil Ken said he’s got a trick to reveal their faces. Give him seventy-two hours, and we’ll have everything.”

A calm settled over me, but it was the quiet before the storm. “Good. Once he sends those faces, I want their heads on my desk. I want to take them out personally. One by one. Nobody touches my business and walks away.”

This hit didn’t just hurt us—it put my reputation with the Mexican mafia at risk, too. Half of what was stolen belonged to them, and I already knew they’d want more than just the money. They’d want every last brick back. Luckily, this wasn’t my only stash. I had bricks and pills to replace what was missing, but I was going to take a loss.

I nodded to the group. “That’s all for now. I’ll take it from here.”

Once everyone had cleared out, my mother and I slipped into the back seat of her Maybach before I headed back to Dream, the steady hum of the engine filling the silence. She stayed quiet, studying me like she’d done since I was a kid. I knew she wanted to say something about what happened. About Damian and all the mess he was dragging into our lives, but I broke the silence first.

“Dream… she brought up something tonight,” I started, staring out the window. “Tried to say I might be depressed. That I’m not myself. She is trying to use her education on me.” I chuckled.

My mother raised an eyebrow, staying quiet, but I could see her thinking hard.

“She’s right,” she finally said, her voice soft yet firm. “I’ve seen the same thing since you have been at my house. This thing with Damian and your injury… it’s weighing on you, Damier. And you used to be able to talk about things, but now…”

I shook my head, rubbing a hand over my face. “It’s just that he acts like I never gave a fuck about him. He’s out here trying to ruin my life, acting like we weren’t close. Like I wasn’t there when Grandpa hit him with that fuckin’ ax… like I didn’t nearly lose it, thinking he was dead at such a young age. We were eight, and I just recently stopped having nightmares about that day. He thinks that shit doesn’t haunt me like I was the one hit?”

My mother took my hand, squeezing it. “That incident scarred him, you know that. But he was on his meds, seeing progress while he was locked up… until he stopped. He’s not the brother you remember anymore. Sometimes, I feel like I should drive him back to the mental institution and tell them not to let him out.”

I started grinding my teeth like I always did when I was enraged, feeling the sting of regret under all the anger.

“But I didn’t cut him off until he crossed every line he could when it came to Arika. I tried to help that nigga, and he threw it all back in my face. And the way he’s acting now… I know it’s only going to get worse.”

She sighed, resting her head back. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll set up a meeting, see if he’ll give any hint of involvement in this shit. But I doubt he’ll admit anything, and he better not be one of them faces on that video.”

“I know he won’t,” I muttered. “But maybe he’ll slip up and give us a clue before this all goes too far. Because I don’t want to kill my own blood, but if he keeps up like this…” My voice trailed off, and for once, I didn’t finish the thought.

I climbed out of my mother’s Maybach, taking a moment to exhale and re-center before heading back to my own ride. I opened the door of the Rolls, and there she was—Dream, curled up in the back seat, her head leaning against the window, wrapped in my jacket. She looked like she’d drifted off as soon as I’d left her, peaceful in a way that calmed something in me, too.

I slid in beside her, reaching under the jacket and pressing my hand against her thigh, running my fingers over the softness of her skin. She stirred slightly, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, and I couldn’t help but grin.

“Missed rubbing on you, woman. Sorry I’ve been so distant,” I murmured, letting my thumb trace slow circles over her thigh, making my way up to her lace thong.

She opened her eyes halfway, catching me with that playful look of hers.

“Is that right?” she asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Yeah. And when we get home, I want you in my bed. Not that hospital bed over at my mother’s crib. I’m tired of that place. I lived there most of my life.” I paused, then leaned down close to her ear. “We’re heading to my penthouse tonight. Need some privacy. Just us. We’ll go back tomorrow.”

She laughed softly, clearly waking up now. “I don’t mind that at all.”

With that, I gave the driver his instructions, and the Rolls pulled off, leaving the warehouse behind. As we moved through the dim streets, I kept my hand on Dream’s pussy, feeling her warmth, every mile bringing us closer to a night I’d been wanting since I got hit.

By the time we reached the penthouse, she was wide awake. We stepped out, only grabbing one of my crutches. I could already feel the anticipation between us. The elevator ride up was silent, but the energy spoke louder than any words.

When the doors opened to the penthouse, I led her to the bar in the corner. I poured two glasses of cognac and then handed her one.

“To privacy,” I said, raising my glass.

“To us,” she replied, her eyes gleaming.

We drank, the warmth of the liquor setting a slow burn that matched the one building between us. She looked so fucking good tonight, and I was done waiting. I set my glass down, took hers from her hand, and led her straight to the bathroom. The glass shower was large, taking up half the space, and I turned it on, letting the steam rise as she undressed, the cool air making her nipples hard.

I joined her, pulling her close under the hot water, and took a moment to admire Dream. Her straight ginger hair was now wet and curling at the ends. There was something about her standing there, vulnerable yet so powerful, that made me want her even more.

“Damn, you look sexy all wet,” I said, letting my hands trail over her curves, the heat between us building as the water poured down.

She ran her hands over my chest, and for a second, I felt a twinge in my leg—a reminder that I was still healing—but I ignored it, brushing it aside like I was going to start doing. Nothing was going to stop me tonight. My hands slipped down, gripping her ass, pulling her closer, and the world around us faded. It was just her and me, every touch deepening the connection I felt to her.

The pain in my leg was still there, sharp and constant, but my focus was all on her. I couldn’t stop myself, and I didn’t want to. This was more than just a release; it was grounding, a way to escape everything else in my life. As she sexily turned around and arched her back under the water, I knew this wasn’t just about lust. This was where I wanted to be, and nothing else mattered.

$$$$$

Two days after that night with Dream, I was back at my mother’s, feeling the weight of everything, including the damn Percocets, dragging me down. I was slouched in the conference room, hardly touching the plate of hot wings in front of me. My leg throbbed, and every time I tried to ignore it, the haze of sleep pulled me deeper. I knew I needed the meds, but I couldn’t stand the way they slowed me down.

Just as I was about to doze off completely, the door swung open, and my mother walked in with King right behind her. I sat up, half-alert, watching as she tossed a folder onto the table, snapping me out of my fog.

“Here’s what you need,” she said, her tone no-nonsense as always.

I straightened, wiped the sleep from my eyes, and opened the folder. The pictures spilled out in black-and-white clarity of each face under the mask. I scanned through them, but there was something familiar about the eyes of one of them—the same cold stare I’d locked onto when I got hit. I’d never forget that face, even half-hidden behind a mask.

But then there was another image that caught my attention: a man standing by a van, positioned in a way that made it difficult to see him fully. Even with Lil Ken’s best efforts, it was just a shadowed figure. But the stance, the way he stood… it struck something in me.

“Who does that look like to you?” my mother asked, reading the expression on my face.

I squinted, a sick feeling settling in my gut. “It could be your fuckin’ son. That’s his posture, his damn stance… I know it. We stand the same.”

King let out a low grunt, nodding. “Looks like it to me, too, and if it’s him, he’s only confirming what we already know about where he stands with us.”

I ran a hand over my jaw, trying to shake off the irritation that flared hotter with every second. “So, what do we do? Let him explain himself? I think we are past that shit.”

“We’ll give him a chance,” my mother said, cool and collected, but the steel in her voice was undeniable. “We show him the photos, let him come clean if it was him. And if it wasn’t… he’d better make that clear to us.”

But when the time for our meeting came, Damian never showed. I waited, sitting through one more wave of rage and then another. The empty seat, his empty promises, his constant ghosting—it was all stacking up, and I was done.

“I’m done being the nice brother,” I said, glancing at King. “If he’s going to play this game, I’m going to find every one of these men myself and send a message Damian won’t forget. He’s about to learn what happens when you mess with me.”

My mother’s eyes glinted with pride as she nodded in approval. Nothing—and no one—was going to stop me from handling this, leg injury or not. I wasn’t about to sit around, waiting for some cowardly apology that would never come. The meds were wearing off mentally, but they still helped me block out the pain.

I grabbed my keys and headed to my new blacked-out Bentley GT, the anger keeping me focused. I drove through the city, pushing the car’s speed limit until I reached Dream’s office. I strode inside, knowing exactly what I needed. Her receptionist raised an eyebrow but quickly pointed to her office door.

“She’s available,” she said, and I could tell she was a little taken aback by my unannounced visit.

I walked into Dream’s office, pausing as I took in the sight of her in her element. Her clear Prada glasses rested on her nose, and her hair was pulled back, giving her this sharp, no-nonsense vibe. She was completely focused on her work, and the way she handled herself made me proud. I cleared my throat to make my presence known, and she looked up, her face lighting up just a bit.

“Didn’t mean to drop in unannounced,” I said, letting my eyes linger on her for a moment.

She smiled, folding her hands. “It’s fine. What brings you here?”

I hesitated, the words feeling heavy even before they came out. “You were right, Dream. I’m feeling… off. Depressed, maybe. And I can’t afford to keep ignoring it.” I let out a breath, feeling the weight of the confession settle between us. “So, I thought… four paid sessions, and I’ll tell you everything about me. Starting with my last marriage… and my brother.”

Her expression softened, and she took off her glasses, giving me her full attention. No judgment, just an open ear. She leaned forward slightly and nodded. “I’m listening.”

And for the first time in a while, I felt like I might actually want to talk.