Page 31

T h e i n t e r i o r o f the Maybach was thick with the scent of burning weed and the low hum of music vibrating through the speakers. I exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl and disappear as I kept my grip steady on the wheel, eyes locked on the dark, empty road ahead.

Ren, sitting in the passenger seat, flicked ash from the blunt and glanced over at me. “So, you really think you know who dropped off that USB?”

My jaw flexed. “I know who it was.”

Ren studied me for a second before nodding, passing me the blunt. I took a slow drag, letting the smoke settle deep in my chest before blowing it out in a controlled stream. “And you think he did it just to fuck with you?”

he asked, eyes narrowing.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Nah. He did it ‘cause he thought it was the right thing to do.”

Ren snorted. “Man, ain’t no right or wrong in this shit. Just power moves.”

“Exactly,”

I muttered, my mind already spinning with everything that led up to this moment.

The last two days, I’d barely stepped out of the penthouse. I’d spent every second either buried inside Parker or lying in bed with her warm body curled up against mine. But in the quiet moments, when my body wasn’t keeping me distracted, my mind had been replaying that conversation with my father over and over. The conversation that sealed Silas’s fate.

The room smelled like cigar smoke and aged liquor, a combination that had been ingrained in my childhood, tied to every memory I had of my father. Seth sat behind the heavy oak desk, his fingers steepled together, his expression unreadable.

I stood across from him, my stance loose, but my mind sharp as hell. “You sure about this shit?”

I asked, voice even.

Seth scoffed, taking a slow sip from his glass. “Boy, you don’t get to question me like I ain’t been runnin’ this shit since before you could walk.”

I stayed quiet. I already knew his mind was made up. Silas had fucked up. He’d been caught slipping, thinking he was smarter than the family that made him, and he wasn’t.

“You know what happens when niggas get too close to the feds, ,”

my father continued, voice low. “They gotta go.”

I knew that, but knowing it and making the call to kill my own brother were two different things. I kept my face blank, even as I felt the weight of eyes on me. Not just my father’s. I glanced toward the hallway just past the office door. My uncle Rob was somewhere in this house.

Sick as hell, retired from the business, but still listening. Always listening. I didn’t trust that shit. Seth must’ve seen something flicker in my expression because he smirked, leaning back in his chair. “You worried about your uncle?”

I didn’t answer. Seth chuckled darkly. “That old muthafucka is too weak to do shit. And even if he wasn’t, I ain’t worried about him.”

I wasn’t worried. At least not about him doing anything, but about what he knew. It didn’t matter, though. The deal was sealed that night.

Silas would be dead by sunrise.

I clenched my jaw, the weight of that memory settling heavy in my chest. And now, almost seven months later, I found out that conversation had been recorded by Uncle Rob.

“Shit ain’t adding up,”

I muttered under my breath.

Ren side-eyed me. “You think it was personal?”

I shook my head. “If it was, he woulda came to me first. This ain’t about revenge. It’s about… morality. Gotta be.”

Ren let out a sharp laugh. “Nigga, ain’t no fuckin’ morality in this shit.”

That was the truth, but Rob had always been different. He stepped back from the life years ago, but my father still let him live under the same roof, still had people watching over him, taking care of him. I needed to know why he recorded that conversation.

The loud vibration of my phone cut through the heavy silence. I glanced at the screen, seeing Seth’s name flashing.

I answered. “Yeah.”

“You on your way?”

my father’s voice came through, cold and impatient.

“Yeah,”

I said, my grip tightening on the wheel.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m ready to kill this bitch nigga.”

I inhaled deeply through my nose. “Relax. I’m on my way.”

I hung up, my fingers drumming against the wheel.

Ren glanced at me. “This some real fucked up family drama, my boy.”

I exhaled slowly, staring out at the dark stretch of road ahead. “Tell me somethin' I don’t know.”

The gravel crunched under the tires as I pulled up to the small, isolated cabin, the headlights cutting through the thick darkness of the woods. Seth’s car was already parked out front, engine off. He’d been here for a minute. Ren shifted beside me, checking the clip on his gun before tucking it back into his waistband.

“You sure you don’t wanna just let your Pops handle this?”

I gave him a sharp look. He exhaled, shaking his head. “Right. You gotta do everything your way.”

I stepped out of the car, the cold night air biting at my skin as I adjusted my jacket. I pushed open the door without knocking. The inside of the cabin was dim, the only light coming from a single overhead bulb swaying slightly. And there, in the center of the room, sat my uncle Rob. This nigga was tied to a wooden chair, wrists bound with thick rope.

His head was tilted downward, strands of graying hair hanging in his face, but I could see the faint rise and fall of his chest. He was alive, but I couldn’t say for how long with my father pressing a gun against his temple. His expression was unreadable, but his grip on the gun was steady. Too steady.

“Yo, relax,”

I muttered, running a hand down my face.

Seth didn’t even blink. “Took your sweet ass time gettin’ here.”

I stepped further into the room, Ren right behind me, his presence solid, quiet.

Rob let out a rough chuckle, lifting his head slightly, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “’Bout time you showed up, boy.”

I ignored him for a second, focusing on my father. “Put the gun down.”

Seth cocked his head. “You come all the way out here to babysit, or you come to finish the job?”

I exhaled sharply. “Put the gun down.”

For a moment, it felt like a standoff. Then, with a muttered curse, Seth lowered the piece, but he didn’t holster it. I turned my full attention to Rob, taking in the deep lines on his face, the slight tremor in his hands. The man was old. Weak. But his eyes still held something sharp. Those killer eyes we were all born with. Mie just happened to be blue.

“You wanna tell me why the fuck you did it?”

I asked, voice low.

Rob smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Did what? Live too long?”

I stepped closer, letting my presence fill the space. “The USB, old man. You gave it to some Old Man Wells and had it sent to my wife. Why?”

Rob licked his cracked lips, then sighed. “Because somebody had to.”

Seth let out a harsh laugh. “This nigga think he a martyr or some shit.”

Rob turned his gaze on Seth, something bitter in his expression. “You got all this money. You spent decades buildin’ this empire, burnin’ down everything in your way. And for what? A legacy of death?”

Seth’s jaw flexed. “A legacy of power.”

Rob scoffed. “And look where it got you. Your own son had to put a bullet in his brother’s head.”

A muscle in my jaw ticked. “He was workin’ with the feds,”

I said, voice tight.

Rob nodded, like he’d been expecting me to say that. “And that justified it? That justified blowin’ his brains out like he was just some random enemy?”

I didn’t respond, but my jaw tightened. He let out a slow breath, eyes flicking back to me. “You really wanna know why I recorded it?”

I stayed silent. He tilted his head slightly. “Because I ain’t got much time left, boy. Ain’t got long before this old body gives out. And before I go, I wanna know that all this shit dies with me.”

Seth’s expression darkened. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Rob gave a slow, tired smile. “It means I don’t want this empire livin’ past me. Past you. Past . I want it dismantled. Burned. Everyone who built it, everyone who thrived from it—I want ‘em to pay. Just like I paid. Just like Silas paid.”

The air in the room shifted. The weight of his words settled over us like a thick, suffocating fog. Seth took a slow step forward, lifting the gun again, pressing it right under Rob’s chin. “You always were a bitch-ass nigga,”

he muttered. Rob didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

I stared at him, trying to see the angle. Trying to understand. “You ain’t ever had a problem with how we ran things before,”

I said, watching him carefully.

Rob exhaled through his nose. “You know how many bodies I buried for this family? How many muthafuckas I killed to protect what we built?”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “And for what? So I could die alone in a fuckin’ wheelchair while y’all kept the cycle goin’?”

Seth’s grip tightened on the gun. “You shoulda just kept your mouth shut, old man.”

“Maybe,”

Rob said, his voice quieter now. “But I just… I wanted to leave this world knowin’ somethin’ changed. Knowin’ that this shit ended.”

I stared at him, my mind running through every possible angle. Every possibility. This wasn’t about Silas. This wasn’t even about us. This was about guilt and about a man too old and too broken to live with the weight of his sins.

Seth pressed the barrel harder against Rob’s chin, his patience running thin. “I should kill you right fuckin’ now.”

Rob closed his eyes for a brief second, then opened them. “Maybe you should.”

The room went silent. And in that silence, I knew. He wanted to die. He was done fighting. I reached out, gripping Seth’s wrist and pushing the gun away. “Nah.”

Seth snapped his glare toward me. “Sebastian—”

“No,”

I stated firmly.

Rob smirked. “Look at you. Always the level-headed one.”

I turned my gaze back to him. “Why the fuck you bring my wife into this shit?”

His smile faded. “Because I knew she was the only thing that could make you stop and think before you followed your old man into hell.”

I didn’t respond. Because deep down, I knew he wasn’t wrong. The cabin was silent except for the heavy breathing of Rob. I stared down at my uncle, his frail, pitiful body slumped in that chair. The ropes were digging into his wrists, but I didn’t give a fuck. If he wanted to die so badly, then fine. He could rot right here.

“No meds. No nurses. No nothin',”

I said, my voice flat, final. “If he wanna die, he can do it on his own time.”

Seth scoffed, his grip tightening around the gun still in his hand. “The fuck you mean, boy?”

I cut my gaze to my father. “I mean, we leave him here. Let him fade out slow, like the fuckin’ coward he is.”

Seth’s face twisted in fury. “Nah. Fuck that.”

I could already see him gearing up, chest rising and falling like a bull about to charge. He wasn’t having it. He wanted blood. “He dies NOW!”

my father barked, stepping toward me.

I squared my shoulders, jaw locking. “That ain’t your call.”

“The fuck it ain’t!”

Seth snapped. “Everything I built, everything I sacrificed, and you wanna leave this motherfucka alive? After what he did?”

I didn’t back down. “Let him suffer.”

Seth’s lips curled in disgust. “You gettin’ soft, .”

The words barely left his mouth before the shot rang out. The crack of the gunshot echoed in the small cabin. Rob’s head snapped back, his body jerking once before going still. Blood trickled down from the hole dead center of his forehead. Seth and I both turned at the same time as another shot was fired.

Seth stumbled back, clutching his chest as blood bloomed across his shirt. I whipped my gun out, aiming it straight at Ren, who still had his arm extended, his gun smoking.

“The fuck are you doin'?!” I roared.

Ren’s expression didn’t change. If anything, there was something dark and menacing in his eyes as he lifted his weapon again—this time, aimed right at me. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Ren murmured, voice low, eerily calm.

I didn’t lower my gun. “Get what?”

Ren exhaled, almost like he was disappointed. “I’m tired of this shit. Tired of playing the loyal soldier. Tired of watchin’ you get handed a throne you don’t even want.”

My blood ran cold. “Nigga, you better watch what the fuck you sayin’,” I warned.

Ren’s grip on his gun didn’t waver. “I been by your side for years. I bled for this family. Put in work for this family. And for what? To play second to a nigga who don’t even care?”

I stared at him, my pulse thudding in my ears. Ren shook his head. “I earned my spot. You just happened to be born with the right name.”

Betrayal cut through me like a blade, sharp and deep. I took a slow step forward, gun still raised. “So what? You gon’ take me out? Step in my spot like this shit yours?”

Ren tilted his head slightly. “If that’s what it takes.”

I gritted my teeth. “We was brothers, LaRenz.”

His expression didn’t change. “Nah, I was your flunky but not anymore.”

Seth coughed behind me, struggling to lift his head. Blood dripped from his mouth as he glared at Ren with all the hate in the world. “Kill that…muthafucka,”

he rasped.

Ren’s gaze flicked to him, and that second—that hesitation—was all I needed. My bullet tore through the side of Ren’s head. His body swayed for a fraction of a second before dropping like dead weight.

But I didn’t stop. I emptied the whole fucking clip into him. Every last bullet. The room smelled like blood and gunpowder. Ren’s body was riddled with holes, blood pooling beneath him in a dark, thick puddle. I stepped back, chest heaving, my fingers still tight around the gun.

I turned to my father, who was struggling to breathe. He was slumped against the floor, his face pale, blood soaking through his clothes. He let out a low, weak chuckle, looking up at me. “You handled it.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “Yeah.”

Seth coughed again, the sound wet, rattling. His eyes, sharp even in death, pinned me down. “Don’t let this shit…take you under, boy.”

I stayed silent, my jaw locked so tight it hurt. He smirked, his lips barely moving. “You always was…a cold motherfucka…”

I exhaled slowly and grabbed the bottle of Gin off the table then tossed it against the wall. Then, I grabbed the lighter from my pocket and flicked it open. I watched the flame dance for a second before tossing it into the dry wooden fireplace. The fire caught instantly, spreading fast. Smoke curled toward the ceiling, and I took one last look around the room. At the betrayal. At the end of an era.

I dragged my father with me, throwing his arm over my shoulder to keep him steady. He grunted, but I didn’t give him a chance to protest or say something I didn’t want to hear as I half-carried, half-dragged him toward the door. Then, without another glance back, I stepped out into the night.