Page 7

THE EMPIRE IS MINE

Two days after Coast was killed, we were all gathered up in his stuffy-ass lawyer’s office. The whole team sat stiff like statues. The weight of Coast’s empire hung thick in the air. It was unspoken but heavy as hell.

Mula sat on one side of the long table with dark shades on and arms folded across his chest like he was carved outta stone.

He wasn’t saying shit, just watching. Yummi came in late with him.

Her eyes were puffy, her face was beaten down by grief, but she was still trying to hold it together.

I clocked the way she leaned into Mula’s space like she thought he could hold her up, but I also saw how he didn’t look at her once.

Good. Let that nigga stay in his feelings.

The lawyer, some old white dude with glasses thick as fuck, cleared his throat and hit play on the video. Coast had a will we all knew about, but didn’t know what he’d recorded. There was Coast. His voice, his face, and his whole aura was like he was right there in the room with us.

“Y’all know how I move,” Coast’s image said, smoothly, with that cocky grin on his lips. “Ain’t no question what happens if I go. Hurricane sits in my place. Mula is next to him. Yummi stays in her spot, but if she steps down, the power stays with Hurricane.”

I watched Mula’s face frown under his shades, but he didn’t say a word. No questions, no pushback—just a slight shift in his body, like he was swallowing the whole fucking room. Yummi glanced at him as worry creased between her brows, but he still didn’t look her way.

The video ended. Silence.

Mula got up smoothly, nodded once like he was making peace with a demon, and walked out without a word. Yummi went to go after him, but I caught her by the wrist, real casually.

“Let him cool off,” I told her.

She hesitated, eyes flicking to the door, but then she sighed and leaned back in the chair, rubbing her temples like the weight of the world was crushing her.

When we finally left the office, Mula was long gone. He’d left without a word, like a ghost.

I opened the door for Yummi since I had to take her home now, and let her slide into the passenger seat of my Maybach. We cruised the city slowly. She talked in circles, rambling about Coast, about missing him, about maybe moving to Starlight Hills for a fresh start.

“I just... I feel like I’m suffocating here. Everywhere I turn, it’s his face, his name... I don’t know if I can keep living in Southwave like this.” Her voice cracked soft as hell.

I kept my eyes on the road with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on her thigh.

“You ain’t gotta do that. You don’t need a fresh start. You need to stay right here. With me.”

She sniffled, wiped at her eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I’ll think on it.”

I smiled to myself, a slow, dark curl of my lips. That was good enough for now. I didn’t push it, just drove her home, watching the city lights blur past the window. But in the back of my mind? I already knew—she was gon’ be mine.

Mula was grieving. He couldn’t take care of her. And now that I was sitting in Coast’s chair, Yummi was gon’ situnder me.