Nyce
Wednesday | 9:28pm
I had donewhat needed to be done, and that was get Princess away from the city. Little did she know, but I’d opened up an account and tossed some money in it to set her up in case shit went left. The way we fucked before she left wasn’t regular ass sex. Then again, it never was. It cracked something open in my chest and stayed there, even with me plotting to kill her father.
Leaving the mansion, I pulled the front door shut and stood there on the stoop for a second, rolling my shoulders back, breathing deeply. Belvin was already waiting in front, engine humming, low-beam lights throwing shadows across the quiet street.
I slid into the back seat, answering the call coming through on my phone. “Yeah.”
“Still on for tonight?”
“Locked and loaded. Alert the clean-up crew, butcher shop, and alibis,” I responded to Crook, my tone leaving no room for questions. “It’s time to finish this shit. It's interfering with other business I have to handle.”
“Ain’t gotta tell me twice. I’ll send the word.”
I ended the call and leaned back in the seat as Belvin pulled away from the curb. The tires hummed low as we cut through the neighborhoods. “You good?” Belvin finally asked, briefly glancing over his shoulder.
I gave him a nod, eyes straight ahead. “I’m tired of this back and forth, tit for tat bullshit. Ain’t no turning back.”
“You sure you wanna do this? Killing her pops might not sit right with her.”
I didn’t answer him right away. I just reached down, pulled my Glock from my waistband, checked the clip like it was second nature, and rested it in my lap. My thumb slowly tapped against the grip. “I’ll worry about that later.” I pulled out my phone again and made another call.
“My most unpredictable client,” came the voice on the other end with a chuckle.
“You got something for me?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Cruz chuckled. “Check your account. Half of that pretty little payday the councilman gave me should be sitting in yours.”
I nodded, grip tightening around the phone. “Good.”
“I told you,” Cruz said, “I don’t switch sides. This was your play… me pretending to be the hired hitman.” He laughed again, dark and real. “So what’s next? You need me in on the cleanup?”
“Nah, that’s handled. This part?” I leaned back in the seat, eyes on the road. “It’s personal.”
He was quiet for a beat, then said, “Understood. You know where to find me.”
I ended the call, smirking. Cruz always came through when needed. That’s why I kept him on payroll. These muthafuckas had crossed the official line, and I was more than ready to end this cat-and-mouse game. I had better shit to do.
I’d gotten the drop on this nigga Zeke and Don, and less than forty-five minutes later, Belvin had arrived at a lake house deep in the ‘burbs.
Moving quietly, I got out of the Rolls, crept up to the house, and looked through the windows, where I saw these sad ass muthafuckas.
Zeke was slumped on the leather couch, sweating through his shirt, hands shaking as he brought a glass of whiskey to his lips. His tie hung loose and crooked like his spine. His pupils were blown wide, his nose was raw and red, and I could tell his breathing was uneven. He looked exactly how men look when they’ve already lost but still pretend otherwise.
Don sat across from him like this was a private club rather than a grave waiting to be filled. He was too calm, swirling his drink like time was on his side. That smug certainty on his face made it clear he still thought power protected him.
I moved around to the back, ready to jimmy the lock, but the door opened. Their confidence was laughable. I crept inside,watched from the shadows, and let them talk themselves into hell.
“We got him boxed in, Zeke,” Don said, voice slow and assured. “Tonight ends this.”
Zeke laughed, but it was broken and empty. The sound of a man cracking from the inside. “He took everything from me,” he said. “Lord, forgive me, but he deserves to die.”
“Men like us do not accept losses. We correct them. Princess will be back where she belongs,” Don continued. “And Nyce will be a headline by morning.”
I stepped forward; the floor creaked. Zeke’s head snapped up at the sound. “Did you hear that?” he whispered. Don shook his head and dismissed him with a wave.
I moved again, and the instant Zeke saw me, his knees buckled. He collapsed, scrambling backward on his hands like a cornered animal. Don finally rose from his seat, his confident expression shifting into one of calculation.
