Page 11 of Blake University HBCU Chronicles: Nuri & Silas

I bet your father don’t know you be out here hoein’ and running the professors at Blake U. I wonder what would happen if he got a hold of this footage.

She tapped the image attached. It was her.

Blurry but clear enough. Then she played the video of her and Silas leaving Club Vyce.

Silas pulled her close, and Nuri smiled up at him.

His lips pressed to her temple like he was claiming her.

Then the video. Short. Silent. But loud as hell.

They looked too comfortable. Too real. Too intimate.

They looked happy, like they were a real couple.

They looked like leverage. She didn’t even make it to the end of the clip before her stomach flipped.

She dropped her phone and rushed to the bathroom, barely making it in time.

The salad traveled back up her throat. Tears fell before she even realized they were coming.

Somebody knew. Somebody had proof and was planning to use it.

Silas stood in the window of his office, backlit by the skyline of a city he owned in silence.

Everything looked good from the outside.

It always did. Polished buildings. Clean streets.

Peace on the surface, but Silas knew the truth.

The devil did his best work in disguise.

His eyes were heavy, bloodshot from sleepless nights.

The weight he carried wasn’t from books or lectures—it was from secrets.

From the life he lived in the shadows. However, right now, shit wasn’t feeling right because someone was fucking with his peace.

Nuri had walked into his world and shook his heart and mind in a way no one had ever done before.

Silas had been waiting a long time for such an experience, and now that it had happened; he was willing to risk it all for her.

She used to look at him like he was the safest place in the world.

Now? She wouldn’t even meet his gaze. Not in class.

Not in passing. Not even by mistake. She used to sit close.

So close he could smell her perfume and feel her eyes burning holes through his logic when she disagreed with his lectures. Now she sat in the back.

Guarded.

Unreachable.

Cold.

That shit ate at him in the worst way. He didn’t walk away because he didn’t want her. He walked away because he did. Wanting her meant exposing her to everything that came with being tied to a man like him—a man who had more layers than she was privy to.

The door opened without a knock. Only a few people moved like that around Silas—Dro and Memphis.

“What up, Silas?” Dro said, stepping in like he ran shit. That was the thing though—every man in that room ran some shit.

“Dro,” Silas smirked. “It’s been a minute, fam. Life good?”

“Nigga, I only accept excellence. Life stay good.”

Silas grabbed the cognac off his sidebar, poured up, and passed around cigars without missing a beat.

“Cool. Let’s get to it. Tell me what the fuck Boyd on—he been movin’ funny lately, and him and that nigga Tree been gettin’ real fuckin’ close.”

Memphis sat back, eyes locked in.

Dro blew out a cloud of smoke and leaned forward. “The fake mentorship program he pitched… It’s a whole fuckin’ front. Scholarships, internships, programs for underprivileged kids— it’s all dirty as hell. Money laundering, ghost students, ID theft. Real ugly. And check this out…”

Silas didn’t blink. He felt more bullshit coming.

“His daughter Nuri Sinclair’s name is all over that shit.”

Silas gritted his teeth, jaw tight. The fire that had ignited behind Silas’ eyes was one that wouldn’t be kindled until Boyd and Tree got their issue by way of solitary confinement or the grave.

“He put her name on paperwork? Why the fuck would he do that?”

“Because he’s a grimy ass muthafucka that need to stop breathin’,” Memphis jumped in. “And a crooked-ass coward at that. He needed a clean face. A credible student with no priors and good grades. Nuri was a perfect prospect. Too fuckin’ perfect.”

"I have no idea, but I gotta admit... the shit feels real fuckin' personal. Dro added. “Ain't no real father gone do no shit like this to their daughter." Dro shook his head in disgust.

Silas stood and paced slow like a man trying to keep himself from exploding. He wasn’t the loud type. Never had to be. When he moved…Shit shifted.

“You want us to press him?” Dro asked, voice low and ready.

Silas turned to face both men. Eyes cold. Expression unreadable. “Not yet. We don’t touch him—unless we have to.”

“So what’s the move?” Memphis asked.

Silas walked back to his desk, opened the drawer, pulled out a folder marked with a gold S, and laid it flat.

“We protect Nuri. We move ahead of the leak. If anything drops, we’re ten steps ahead. Memphis, call Glover. She’s gonna need the best lawyer money can buy.”

“Say less,” Memphis replied, already texting.

Dro nodded, flicking ash from his cigar.

“You ready for war?”

“I stay ready for war,” he took a slow drag from his cigar, the cherry burning hot. “Now I got a reason to dismantle everything that nigga stand for.”

Silas’ plan was to put out the fire before the flames got a chance to touch Nuri, but the saying is true— it be your own family who fuck you the worst. Boyd had the right idea but the wrong nigga because his plan wasn’t going to flourish on Silas’ watch.

When it came to Nuri Sinclar, it would forever be fucking war…

or death whichever one came first, Silas didn’t give a damn.