Page 2 of His Aries Heiress (BLP Signs of Love #21)

Aries is the first sign of the Zodiac, which means he never follows. He always leads.

Marcellus never cared for these meetings. He was a man of action and less about strategizing, but he knew one day that would have to change.

He watched as Grim gave his report of the last month as the other men and women attending the meeting listened closely. Marcellus’s mind drifted as he fought not to doze off, while his hand stroked his beard. He felt someone nudge him, and he frowned as he glanced at the man beside him.

“You good, Cell?” Peso whispered. The nigga was a cool dude, so Marcellus let it rock.

They’d been knowing each other since the sandbox, anyway, so he knew Peso ain’t mean no harm by nudging him.

If it had been anyone else, he would have pulled his gun out and popped him right between the eyes.

The issue with that was Peso’s twin brother, Pop, wouldn’t have given Marcellus one second to think about his impulsive actions before he avenged his brother’s death.

All that filtered through his mind before he gave Peso a slow nod. Peso nodded back and focused his attention on Grim once again.

Marcellus did his best to focus on his mentor, but he almost immediately zoned out.

He knew these council meetings were necessary.

Most people didn’t know that Ellwood was the hub for anything illegal moving within the country.

The council, which consisted of all the major players in the operation, made sure to keep their own city pretty clean.

Not to say they didn’t have illegal happenings there, too, but they preferred to spread their dirt in other places so they could sleep easily and have a sense of peace.

Marcellus had been lucky. Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

His life started out pretty shitty. Same old sad story that a lot of niggas from the hood had.

Absent father and dope head mother who eventually died from an overdose.

When his mother was alive, she didn’t care much about him.

If it wasn’t for the old heads in the Ellway Projects, he would have likely died from starvation.

His luck turned around when he was eight years old and he met Grim.

The name had always been a myth on the streets.

Even as a kid, Marcellus had heard whispers of the street legend.

It wasn’t until the man himself pulled up on him and stopped him from eating out of the trash can that he learned Grim was anything but a myth.

He was real, and not only that, he was the realest nigga Marcellus would ever get the pleasure of meeting.

Grim, though his name might suggest otherwise, had a kind heart, especially when it came to kids.

He gave Marcellus an extravagant roof over his head, the most expensive threads, and most importantly, the game.

He taught Marcellus how to be a man and how to run the streets.

Not in the sense of slangin’ dope and kickin’ it with knuckleheads heading straight to jail or an early grave.

Nah, Marcellus was given much more than that.

He was given access to the elite niggas.

The people who woke up and put on the most expensive threads, owned mansions, and drove the top of the line cars.

The men and women who ruled with iron fists and were both feared and loved.

The people who were whispered about across the country but never seen.

Marcellus grew up calling street legends auntie and uncle.

He spent holidays with them and knew their children, who were now taking over one by one.

He had access to generational wealth and knowledge, and understood how blessed he was.

The problem was Marcellus had a simmering rage inside him that would never really go away.

He was a live wire, and he knew that was the only reason Grim hadn’t stepped down yet and handed all his responsibilities over to Marcellus.

As he looked at the older man, a small part of him felt bad.

Grim was definitely getting older, and he deserved to retire.

He’d left a huge mark in the hood. He survived and hadn’t ended up under the prison or in a grave.

Marcellus was the only one holding the man back from retiring peacefully.

Grim had given him most of the responsibility and showed him the ropes, but Marcellus’s hot head prevented the man from stepping back completely.

Grim had finished giving his report and sat down next to Marcellus, who tried to focus on King Ro, who now paced the length of the opulent room as he spoke.

As the plug of their entire operation, people might argue that he was the most powerful person there.

Marcellus would definitely argue that. He didn’t care what his title was or who he sat next to.

He was the most powerful nigga in any room he stepped into.

As an Aries, he was a natural born leader, and as far as he was concerned, niggas needed to bow down to him.

He didn’t call it cocky. He called it facts.

Still, nothing moved without King Ro. Nothing. And King Ro’s name didn’t ring bells in the streets because nobody knew who he was. The same was true for his father and his grandfather who had run the shit before him.

“Pay attention, youngblood. I need you on your toes,” Grim muttered. His eyes never left King Ro as he spoke to the man he raised as a son.

Marcellus chuckled. Nobody knew him better than Grim. He tried to focus his thoughts as King Ro closed out the meeting.

“See y’all next month,” King Ro said, dismissing everyone.

Those words were like music to Marcellus’s ears.

He was the first out of his seat at the large round table.

Pop, who sat two chairs down from him, twitched slightly at Marcellus’s sudden movement.

Marcellus peeped it, though most probably didn’t.

He’d learned when they were kids that Pop didn’t like sudden movements.

It made his trigger finger itch, even when they were young.

The nigga was born a certified killer. A certified nut too.

Marcellus didn’t have any issues with him, but because Marcellus had a few screws loose, too, he learned to keep Pop at a distance.

Peso, on the other hand, Marcellus could kick it with all day.

They rarely did outside of business, but Peso kept a cooler head than his brother.

What was crazy was that Peso was the deadlier of the two.

“Quit all that jumpin’ ’round, nigga,” Pop grumbled.

Marcellus rose his brows at him. He didn’t really like another nigga telling him what to do too much. “Or what?”

Marcellus peeped Peso placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder, which caused Marcellus to chuckle as he walked by.

Peso knew what was up. Again, there was no beef with anyone in this room.

It was the reason the council stood strong.

If there was ever any indifference, they handled it like civilized people for the sake of the operation.

Nothing came above their positions and the integrity of their work.

Nothing . That was the only reason Marcellus felt comfortable enough to give his back to Pop as he adjusted his locs so they hung down the middle of his back.

Whatever confrontation might have taken place would have been petty.

Marcellus didn’t have time for it. He was antsy to get out of there and back to the sanctuary of his home.

He passed by Nyx, also known as the chemist. She was in charge of the formula for all drugs moving in the country. He nodded at her, and she smiled and offered him a little wave. She was new to the council. Only been in this life for a few years, brought in by King Ro himself.

Before he could reach the door, he heard a gasp behind him and then movement as people murmured.

He whirled around, the gun tucked in his waist already in his hand, when he spotted Karma, crouched over a body.

She was who they considered their vice boss and was a professional gambler not all that long ago.

Now, she owned the most lucrative casino in Ellwood and a couple of underground clubs.

She also ran a few brothels and betting houses.

If a person had a vice that could fuck up their life, Karma was right there to egg them on.

Marcellus made his way over to the crowd, and his heart dropped when he noticed Grim on the ground, looking like he struggled to breathe.

Rage immediately overtook him as he elbowed people out of the way and shouted, “The fuck y’all do to him?”

“Nothing.” Karma cut her eyes at him as she propped Grim’s head in her lap. “He stood up and then collapsed.”

Marcellus wasn’t trying to hear that though.

In his head, mothafuckas didn’t just collapse just because.

Rational thinking had completely left him, and he was ready to allow his rage the chance to do the talking.

It was a defense mechanism. While Grim was on the ground struggling, he couldn’t even look at him.

He’d much rather filter his feelings into the one that felt most comfortable: anger.

Before he could do anything stupid, King Ro stepped in and placed a large hand on Marcellus’s shoulder.

King Ro spoke to Nyx while he grounded Marcellus.

“Call 911. Everyone else, get out of here. We’re in a clean spot with legitimate papers, but a bunch of well-dressed niggas gon’ make them suspicious. ”

Nobody needed to be told twice. Marcellus breathed deeply as everyone left the room aside from Marcellus, Karma, Nyx, and King Ro.

“It’s okay, Grim. Breathe. That’s it,” Karma coached.