Page 27

T h e w a r e h o u s e w a s buzzing with tension as men moved in coordinated chaos, unloading crates from the trucks and stacking them in their designated places. The sharp scent of metal and oil filled the air, mixing with the faint musk of sweat and cigarette smoke. I stood near the entrance, eyes scanning the floor, watching every damn movement like a hawk.

Ren was posted up beside me, arms crossed, his usual smirk absent as he observed the process. “Shit’s moving slow today,”

he muttered under his breath.

“Yeah,”

I said flatly, my gaze locked on the crew. “They better pick that shit up.”

It was rare that I actually had to be down here managing a shipment, but after the bullshit that went down a few months ago—the ambush, the bodies, the missing product—I wasn’t leaving anything to chance, especially now when I was locked in with Vincenzo.

I walked deeper into the warehouse, hands in my pockets, my presence alone making some of the guys move faster. That’s how it was with me. They feared me more than they respected me, and that’s exactly how I liked it. Then I heard it.

“Man, somebody need to get some pussy or somethin’. Maybe he wouldn’t be up in here actin’ like a fuckin’ warden.”

Laughter followed. Not much, but enough.

I stopped mid-step. The floor beneath me felt like it had gone dead silent. I slowly turned my head, my eyes locking onto the motherfucker who had something to say about me. Ellis. Mid-twenties, been working under me for about a year now. I let his ass live after he fucked up an order a while back. Maybe he thought that meant he could speak freely.

The crew caught on to the shift in the air real quick. The laughter died. The only sound was the low hum of the ventilation and the distant noise of crates being moved. Ellis had his head turned to one of the guys next to him, smirking like he really said some funny shit.

I stepped closer, slow, deliberate. “Yo, E.”

My voice cut through the warehouse, sharp and unforgiving.

His smirk faltered. He turned his head toward me, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, boss?”

I closed the distance between us in three strides. Before he could even blink, my hands shot out as I snapped his neck. His body instantly slumped, and everybody’s eyes grew wide.

“Anybody else got a fuckin’ death wish?”

My voice was calm, quiet, but the realness in it was unmistakable. Heads shook. Fear flashed. That’s what I thought. “Get the fuck back to work.”

My voice echoed through the warehouse, snapping everyone out of their frozen states. They scrambled, moving with urgency.

I stepped back, flexing my fingers before sliding my hands into my pockets like nothing had happened.

Ren was already heading toward the back exit, shaking his head with a smirk. “Had a feelin’ you was gon' do that.”

I followed him out into the cold air, inhaling deeply before pulling a blunt from my pocket. He lit it up first, took a slow drag, then passed it to me. “You good?”

I took a pull, letting the smoke curl in my lungs before exhaling through my nose. “Straight.”

Ren wasn’t buying that shit. “You ain’t been yourself. What’s up?”

I passed the blunt back, my jaw tight. I wasn’t about to sit here and talk about my feelings like some soft-ass nigga. But Ren had been my right hand for too long. He knew when shit was off. “…Parker.”

The name left my lips low, almost begrudgingly.

Ren raised a brow. “What about her?”

I rolled my shoulders. “She’s been actin’ different.”

“How different?”

“Quiet. Moody. Been keepin’ her distance, and not in a way that’s just her usual attitude. We ain’t even fought in like a week.”

Ren snorted. “And you like fightin’ with her, huh?”

I shot him a look. He didn’t get it. That’s what we did. Parker’s smart-ass mouth and our little power struggles were a thing. A rhythm. I’d fuck the attitude out of her, she’d swear up and down she hated me, then she’d fall asleep on my chest like I wasn’t the worst nigga alive that she knew about.

But for the past week, she hadn’t been arguing. Hadn’t been teasing me. And we sure as hell hadn’t fucked. She buried herself in her T-shirt line like she was trying to distract herself from something. I took another hit of the blunt, my eyes narrowing as my mind turned over the possibilities.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she was just PMSing. Maybe she was just too focused on her business. But my gut told me otherwise. I flicked the blunt away, watching it land on the pavement before grinding it out with my boot. Whatever it was, I was gettin’ to the bottom of that shit tonight. Even if I had to tie her stubborn ass up and fuck the answers out of her.

I gritted my teeth, my jaw tight as I yanked the driver’s side door open and slid into my new Bentley. I slammed it shut, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles cracked. “Hold shit down,”

I told Ren through the open window. “Make sure everything moves smoothly.”

Ren gave me a look, his sharp gaze picking up on my mood like always. “You aight?”

I exhaled through my nose as I dapped him up. “I will be.”

I didn’t even wait for his response. I threw the car in gear and peeled out of the lot, my mind racing faster than the engine roaring beneath me.

Something was wrong with Parker. I could feel it deep in my gut, that same instinct that always warned me before shit went left. Her ass had been avoiding me like she was scared to even be in the same room. That wasn’t my Parker. My Parker was mouthy, wild, and never afraid to test me. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just mood swings or business stress.

I tapped my fingers against the wheel, my jaw ticking as I thought over our last few interactions. Every time I tried to touch her, she brushed me off. Every time I asked what was up, she’d say “nothing”

and change the subject. The more I thought about it, the more it pissed me off. If something was wrong, why the fuck wouldn’t she just say it?

By the time I pulled up to the penthouse, my pulse was hammering. I stepped out, slamming the car door behind me, taking the elevator up with my body thrumming with tension. The second I stepped inside, I knew something was off. The air was cold. Stale. There was no music playing or candles burning. No scent of her perfume lingering in the air.

I took another step inside, my chest tightening as my eyes darted around. It was too quiet. Way too fucking quiet. I stormed into the master bedroom, flicking on the light. My stomach turned at the sight in front of me.

Her closet doors were wide open. Empty hangers swayed slightly, a few designer bags still lined up neatly on the shelf, but her everyday shit? Gone. Her shoes? Gone. Her jewelry? Gone. My heart pounded in my chest, but my blood stayed ice-cold.

I inhaled deep, then hollered out, “FUCK!”

The sound bounced off the walls, but there was no one there to hear it. No Parker to come running in with some slick shit to say. I yanked my phone out, pulled up her location. Off. I switched to tracking her car. Still parked in the garage. My pulse pounded in my ears as I called her cell. That shit rang once then went straight to voicemail.

I clenched my jaw, pacing the length of the kitchen as my mind churned. I hit record on her voicemail. My voice was low, laced with warning. “You better call me back before I start tearin’ the whole fuckin’ city apart lookin’ for you.”

A pause, then, “You already know what it is, Parker. Don’t make me come find you.”

I hung up, gripping the phone so tight I nearly snapped it in half.

The silence in the penthouse pressed down on me. I needed to do something. I stalked into the living room, my eyes locking onto her laptop sitting open on the coffee table. Something about it made my gut twist. A USB was plugged in. And right next to it, lying perfectly in the center of the table, was her wedding ring. A cold chill skated down my spine.

I stepped closer, my breathing even, controlled. A small, yellow sticky note was slapped onto the laptop screen. Parker’s handwriting.

“It’s one thing to be a shooter, a killer, but it’s another thing to kill your own flesh and blood. Fuck you. I’m out.”

I stared at the words. The pressure in my chest turned from ice to fire, blazing through my veins. I crumpled the note in my fist, breathing hard through my nose. Then, slowly, I reached for the laptop and clicked play. The recording started with static at first and then I heard my father’s voice. Seth was talking in code. Talking to me.

My stomach clenched as I listened to the words I already knew were coming. The words I spoke back to him confirmed what needed to be done. The words that sealed my brother’s fate. I ran a hand down my face. She fucking knew.

I let out a chuckle, one with no humor, shaking my head as I reached for the USB. Then, I crushed it causing metal and plastic to crack under the force of my grip, the pieces scattering onto the floor.

My jaw ticked as I exhaled, slow and deep, staring down at the shattered evidence. Parker ran. But I’d find her. And when I did? She was never running again.