Asa grinned and looked right at me. “You look like you about to say something.”
Kojo chuckled and shook his head. “Leave him alone. You know he don’t play about his son.”
“That’s exactly why I’m saying it,” Asa replied, laughing. “Kay’Lo always been hard-headed. Just like you.”
I looked over at Kojo and he met my eyes with a knowing look. “He was worse when he met Treasure,” Kojo said calmly. “Didn’t nobody tell you what to do with her. You remember that.”
Treasure laughed under her breath. “He was impossible.”
I let out a breath and finally allowed a small smile. “I knew what I wanted.”
“And Kay’Lo does too,” Kojo said, lifting his glass slightly toward me. “You raised him to stand on his own. You can’t be mad when he does exactly that.”
Asa nodded slowly, his smile crooked as he lifted his glass. “Facts. The same way Renza move. The boy loud, reckless, and hard-headed as hell. That boy got it honest.”
Nyori sighed and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with that familiar look that said she’d heard this a hundred times before. “I know y’all are not about to put all that on my son like he didn’t learn half that mess from watchin’ y’all,” she said, shaking her head.
Asa laughed and reached over, tapping the side of her glass with his own. “You helped raised him. Remember that.”
Nyori smirked despite herself. “I raised him to be good. Everything else, he picked up from this family.”
Kojo chuckled under his breath, and even I couldn’t help but agree. Renza didn’t just come from Asa. He came from all of us.
The table erupted in laughter, and for a moment, it felt good. It felt light. It felt like we were just parents again, not leaders, not strategists, not men who had buried bodies and signed deals that changed the world.
But Abeni had been quiet, and when she finally spoke, the shift was immediate.
“I’ve been receiving emails,” she said calmly, setting her glass down.
The laughter faded.
Kojo took a slow sip of his drink, his expression unchanged because none of this was new information to him. “Been getting messages since that boy went down. I told you when it happened that somebody was going to try you. I just felt it.”
Asa leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “And I said the same thing. People get loud when they feel like they lost control.”
Abeni’s mouth curved into a faint smile. “They can get as loud as they want. It doesn’t change anything.”
Kojo set his glass down with calm certainty. “Anybody who think sending emails gon’ scare this family don’t know who the fuck they dealing with. They can watch, threaten, and hide behind screens all they want. When it’s time, we’ll handle it.”
“Threatening ones,” she replied. “Anonymous, and detailed enough to let me know whoever is sending them is aware of things they should not be aware of.”
Asa leaned forward slightly. “You think it’s about that last hit?”
Abeni nodded once. “I do.”
Kojo’s jaw tightened, and the room felt smaller. “Whoever it is,” he said, “they picked the wrong family.”
“That’s what I told her,” Asa said. “We’ve been through worse.”
Abeni finally took a sip of her drink, her eyes steady as ever. “I am not worried,” she said. “I am prepared.”
I studied her then, seeing the layers beneath the composure. Abeni had always been calculated, strategic and unapologetic. But tonight, there was something else there. It was something that seemed unresolved.
“And where is the child?” Nyori asked.
Abeni glanced at Treasure before answering. “He is safe.”
The silence that followed was heavy but not shocked. It made sense in a way that only time and truth could make things make sense.
