For a while, Crown spoke to them as the morning air moved around him. He talked about the club and the architecture business, the pressure of being the one everybody looked to, and the decisions nobody else could make but him. He spoke about Nivéa and the baby too, about how he was trying to build with her while still carrying the weight of everything else on his back.
Crown didn’t bother asking for answers; he never did. He just spoke, believing they were listening and guiding him in ways he could not always see. He talked to his grandmother the longest. That was his rock… his first best friend. He could still hear her voice clear as day, always preaching. He remembered one conversation they’d had, her warning him to be careful about what he labeled himself as. She told him that names carried energy and had a way of attaching themselves to your spirit. And damn, had she been right, he thought. Every single day he felt every ounce of what Crown meant. The authority, the expectations, the climb to victory that never really ended.
Familiar footsteps eventually crunched behind him, slowly. Crown didn’t bother to turn. He already knew who it was. He’d made the call himself, telling him exactly where to meet. And he’d heard the rumble of his engine long before it reached the cemetery. Despite the bullet wound, his brother was still riding. Some shit Danger refused to give up. His bike was one of them.
He came into view with his hoodie pulled up, walking with a slight limp. The consequences of the night before weighed heavily on his body, but he didn’t complain. His bloodshot eyes shot straight to Lil Mo’s headstone, and he stopped there, shaking his head as he stared at her name and the dates etched beneath it. The streets had claimed her on her birthday, and that would never sit right with him.
Crown stood and met him halfway. They slapped hands firmly, which turned into a pull-in, their shoulders colliding. Whatever happened the night before stayed there. In their world, fights didn’t fracture blood. Their father had taught them that.
They stood in silence as Danger paid his respect, and Crown watched him closely. The anger from the night before had cooled, but the worry hadn’t. His love for Danger ran deeper than disappointment. He loved his brother fiercely, even when he was fucking up.
“Sup, bro?” Danger said, meeting his gaze.
“I’m good. Sup with you? You straight?” Crown asked.
“Yeah, I’m good. About last night, I apologize, bro. Real talk. I was outta line. But I didn’t mean none of that shit I said. I was just fucked up. My bad.”
Crown shook his head. “I don’t give a fuck about that. That shit’s water under the bridge. As long as you good, we good.”
“Respect,” Danger nodded.
Crown lifted his phone briefly. The screen replayed last night’s breaking news he’d caught on the drive over. Smoke filled the display, flames tearing through what used to be The Ravens’ clubhouse. The reporter’s voice cut through the chaos, explaining the gunshots civilians said they heard seconds before the explosion.
“I’m guessing shit went how it was supposed to.”
“Hell yeah. That shit’s in ashes. Dropped ten of them niggas, one being Kilo. No losses on our end.” Danger said.
Crown nodded. “Bet.” He slid the phone back into his pocket and turned fully to face him.
“On another note, I’mma ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me.”
“Wassup?”
“Do you need help, bro?”
Danger exhaled slowly, kissing his teeth.
“Nah. I ain’t back on it like that. My head was fucked up. My heart was too. I just needed something to numb the pain. I did one line. Don’t make it better, but that was it. The shit you flushed was the only thing I had, and I won’t get more.”
Crown studied him closely, not as the president of the Knights, but as the older brother who had been watching him his whole life.
“I’mma keep it a hunnid with you right now.” He said.
“I’m listening.”
“All these years, you and Mo always wondered why I stayed quiet, why I stood off to the side while everybody else was partying and turnin’ up. It wasn’t because a nigga didn’t want to. It’s because I couldn’t. I’m too busy thinking, watching, trying to stay ahead of everything and everyone.” He paused, making sure Danger was locked in.
“I try to catch every shift in energy, every bad habit, every sign that something ain’t right with the people around me. I try to see trouble coming before it lands, and if it does land, I’m already figuring out how to get us ahead of it. But right now, I got a war on my hands, a business to run, Pete telling me the feds are circling, and a new lady in my life I gotta show up for and protect.”
Danger stayed quiet, taking it in. In all the years they had been running together, he had never heard his brother complain. Not once. But here he was, wearing his heart on his sleeve.
“With that being said, I got a lot on me right now, bro. So much that I’m bound to miss somethin’. So, if you need rehab, I need you to make it easier on me and just say that. I’ll push everything else to the side, and hold your hand while you get the help you need. Because you my brother, and I love you, nigga.”
Danger nodded slowly. “I don’t need rehab, bro. I’m good. I promised Mo I wouldn’t go back the last time I was in that muthafucka. I slipped, but I ain’t falling back in that deep. And now I’m promising you too. I’m straight.”
Crown held his gaze for a long moment. Strangely enough, he believed him about the coke. But the pain sitting behind Danger’s eyes still made him uneasy.
“Aight,” he said, reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out a business card and handed it to him.
