Page 53

HAVOC

I wasn’t built for this.

That truth hit me like a bat to the ribs the minute I left Carmelo the other day. At first thought I could do this but now, I don’t think so. Shit, my hands were still shaking from the nightmare that was King’s Vine. From the screaming. The chaos. The failure.

And that’s what it was, a failure. I’d let Carmelo down. I’d let Mimi down. I’d let myself down.

I thought I could take Riot out. Thought I had it in me to stand toe-to-toe with the men who looked at me like I was always a few steps behind. But I didn’t. I never did. That kind of killer instinct? It ain’t something you can fake. Either you got it in your blood or you don’t.

And me?

All I had in my blood was fear. I was barely Silas’s son. Maybe, it was the nasty shit he did to me that robbed me of it. I hated him and I still wanted them to pay. But I just wasn’t the man for the job.

Carmelo wasn’t gonna be happy. I could feel it coming. The man was unhinged on a good day. And now that he knew Allure was with Riot, that she’d turned on the only family she had left? He was gonna burn the whole damn city down to prove a point.

Which meant I was next.

Me. Mimi. Our son.

That’s why I packed the duffel bag. Quiet. Fast. Threw in cash, burner phones, IDs I’d been saving for an escape that always felt hypothetical. Until now. Now, I had to go.

I zipped the bag and looked up—and there she was.

Mimi.

Blocking the door like she knew.

Her arms were crossed, lip curled in disgust. “You serious right now?”

I stayed calm. “Mimi?—”

“You leaving?” she snapped. “After all this talk about takin’ what’s ours, after promising you’d make ‘em pay for Malia?”

“I can’t?—”

She stepped forward, eyes blazing. “You can’t ? Or you won’t ?”

“Mimi, I’m telling you, Carmelo’s unstable. He’s not in this for us. He don’t care who gets caught in the crossfire, and if I stick around…”

She laughed. Cold and loud. “Nah. Don’t spin this like you’re doing it for us. You’re scared. Admit that shit. You got shook and now you’re running like a little bitch.”

I flinched but held my ground. “I’m trying to protect our son.”

“By abandoning him?” she spit. “You leave, you don’t get to see him again.”

I felt that one deep.

“Mimi…” I stepped forward, lowering my voice. “Come with me. Please. We can start over. Some place warm. Some place safe. We got money. We got time. We could be happy.”

It was a matter of time before my brother’s realized I was behind the shoot out at King’s Vine. We were on borrowed time.

She stared at me for a long second, and for a flicker of a moment, I saw her soften.

But it was gone just as fast.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” she said, voice trembling. “Riot killed my sister. Slit her throat like she was nothing. I don’t give a fuck about safety. I want vengeance . And if you don’t, then you and I? We were never on the same side.”

I swallowed hard. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Better that than living like a coward.”

Eventually I walked out of the building to get some fresh air. She tagged behind me with our son on her hip.

We were standing in the middle of the sidewalk now, two broken people tearing each other apart in the open. And then…

“Yo…”

The voice sliced through the air like a blade made of memory and bad timing.

I froze.

Fuck.

I turned, heart already thumping against my ribs like it knew what was coming. And sure enough, there he was—Rollo. Walking up the block all casual, head tilted, grin cocked just enough to make it clear he thought whatever was happening in front of him was just another episode in my jacked-up life.

To him, I was still the fuck-up little brother who couldn’t stick a landing, the comic relief in a Greek tragedy.

He looked between me and Mimi, who was holding our son and raised a brow. I could see the questions lining up behind his smirk. No one knew about Mimi and our son. And I prayed that he didn’t recognize Mimi as Malia’s sister.

“Yo wsup,” he muttered, hands stuffed in his hoodie. “I ain’t know you lived around here. I was on my way to pick up something from my homeboy. Who is this?”

I stepped forward, heart racing about what to do next. I needed to just admit the truth.

“Rollo… this is Mimi. And that’s my so, Jasir.”

The smirk twitched, faltered. His gaze bounced between us again. “You got a—? Since when?”

I ran my hand over my face. “Been a minute. Shit’s just been… crazy, bro. I was waitin’ for the right time to—” I waved a vague hand like that explained anything. “You know. Say somethin’. I just been trying to keep things on the low since shit been wild ever since Silas originally went missing.”

It was a sloppy lie. Too rushed, and made no fuckin’ sense. And I knew Rollo. Knew he’d clock it.

He frowned, eyes narrowing as they skimmed over Mimi again, then the kid. “That’s crazy! I always thought Creed would’ve been the first one to have kids but here you are. Um, it was nice meeting you,” he said with his eyes lasered in on her.

Mimi narrowed her eyes, heat radiating off her.

“I’ll be back,” she muttered, sharp and cold, and stalked down the sidewalk with our son.

I knew she was agitated and I felt bad. I was letting them both down.

I prayed she would come back so that we could talk it through. I watched her go, jaw tight, heart low.

Her anger echoed in the slap of her feet against concrete, like her fury needed everyone in Harlem to feel it.

Rollo whistled low. “She always that sweet?”

I forced a chuckle, but it cracked around the edges. “Like a sour patch kid.”

He stared at me for a beat too long. His body was still, but his eyes were busy—scanning. Reading me like a book he already knew the ending to.

“So what’s up, bro?” he asked. “You buggin’ out about somethin’? You got that twitchy look again. You fucked up with security but we took care of Boaz. We know he was behind the shooting at the winery. Watch gon be doing now that you’re fired,” he laughed.

I forced a shrug, hoping to look nonchalant while sweat glued my shirt to my back.

“I’m still figuring it out. Might just move out the country to a spot like Thailand.

Weed is legal there. I might just grow it there.

Aye, you want a drink or somethin’? Come inside.

You ain’t never seen my spot before and we never get to connect. ”

He hesitated. Just a flicker. But it was there.

Then he nodded. “Yeah, fuck it. Let’s toast to your secret family or whatever.”

Every cell in my body screamed not to let him in.

But I opened the door anyway.

He stepped in first, eyes scanning like always. “Yo, this spot look like a damn bunker. You movin’ or somethin’?”

“Something like that.”

My hand hovered near the waistband of my jeans.

He turned to face me, eyebrows raised like he was about to ask something else and I didn’t give him the chance.

I pulled the gun.

His expression barely had time to shift. No fear, no begging. Just a flicker of surprise.

One shot. Then another.

The sound echoed off the walls like judgment. Rollo dropped fast, like the floor yanked him down. Blood fanned out from under him like a flower blooming in reverse, red and wrong and permanent.

My hand was still up, shaking. The gun felt welded to my fingers. My ears rang, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

He was dead.

Just like that.

I didn’t hate him. Not even a little. But he knew too much. Saw too much. And I couldn’t afford doubt. Not now. Not when everything was splintering and the only thing holding me together was desperation.

If he lived, he’d talk. He’d go to Riot. Maybe even Creed. And then it was game over. My bones in a bag. My name in past tense. They would start asking questions and I couldn’t have that. I had to protect Mimi and Jasir.

So I did it.

And now I had to live with it.

The door creaked open behind me.

I didn’t turn at first. I couldn’t. Shame glued my feet to the floor.

But then I felt her.

Mimi stepped inside, slow. Real slow. Her eyes landed on the body, then moved to me—still holding the gun like I was frozen in a moment I’d never come back from.

For a second, I thought she might scream. Thought she’d drop our baby, back away, say I’d gone too far.

But she didn’t.

She smiled.

Just a little.

“You really did it.”

I swallowed, throat raw. “I had to.”

“You do got it in you,” she whispered, she complimentde.

She stepped closer, heels clicking against the floor, calm as ever. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said, “Now you gotta get to Creed and Riot. End it. For Malia. For Us.”

I nodded, slow. The weight of what I’d just done was pressing against my lungs, heavy and suffocating.

“I will.”

But deep down, I didn’t know if I was climbing toward justice, or just digging my own grave one bullet at a time.