“It’s not for you. I want you to give it to Grim.” Crown clarified.
Prophet’s eyes flicked to the bag and back to Crown. “For what exactly?”
“For order to be done correctly. I’m no fool, old man. There’s a reason Hem requested Vice Presidents to join this meeting.”
Crown had a hunch. The Council typically spoke only to Presidents. The fact that they requested vice presidents to be present as well rubbed him the wrong way, and he hoped it wasn’t his vice president they were trying to prove a point with. Crown was usually a man of order and respected his elders…those who paved the way before him. But if anyone touched his brother, he would lose control. There would be an all-out war in the Hills. He would die about his.
Prophet took another sip of his beer as he settled into his chair, letting out a deep exhale.
“Grim and I are close. I’ve learned quite a bit about him, and I’m pretty sure I don’t need to tell you he’s the type to take money if it makes sense. It’s clear you’ve done your research on him.”
Crown winked. He had certainly dug into Grim’s background. He was the Council's muscle, their enforcer, and he had learned that he was once a Sergeant-at-Arms for the Deathcons. A club known for being both powerful and grimy. Most of their riders came from broken homes in the slums. Brotherhood and money were the answer to all their problems.
“You’ll be happy to hear your gut tells you right. There will be some serious pressure on the Ravens. I’m talking slow singing, flower bringing, and all.” Prophet added, confirming the gravity of the situation.
“Good, ‘cause I need this money I’m giving to be worthwhile.” Crown leaned in, his dark gaze narrowing.
“Tell Grim that if the Council wants to send a strong message about following orders, nothing is more effective than touching a president. Hit the big nigga first, and the rest will fall in line. Not just the Ravens, but every club that’s present that night will feel it. I want Nico erased, not his vice.”
Nico knew too much about Crown. About his firm. About Nivéa. That couldn’t stand; Crown wasn’t going for it. It was one thing to know Nivéa was his lady, but a whole other thing when his enemy knew where she worked and spoke on it. Nico had sealed his fate the day he mentioned her shop. In their world, family members who weren’t patched in were off-limits, especially significant others and children. However, Crown understood Nico was desperate at this point.
Smiling proudly, Prophet set his beer down and studied Crown, recognizing the fire and weight of leadership in his gaze. Crown reminded him so much of his best friend. The Council had planned to kill Gunner and teach Nico a valuable lesson about disobedience, but even he had to admit that Crown’s vision was far more ruthless and powerful.
“I hear you. I’ll speak to Grim. But understand this, I can guide the current, but I will not stop it. Whatever happens to the Knights will hit hard, too. Grim and my suggestions will ensure that fate feels believable. If it smells off, the other two will question it, especially coming from me.”
Crown held his gaze, then nodded.
Prophet exhaled through his nose, something close to a sigh. He looked away for a moment, staring into the fireplace.
“That fate doesn’t change anything between us, though. Your grandfather was my brother. That doesn’t disappear just because I sit at a different table. The Knights will always be my family.”
Crown felt that settle in his chest as their fists collided. They sat in silence, two generations bound by blood, loyalty,and choices that might never make the history books, yet their names would be whispered on the streets, their legacy living on forever. Others might talk a good game, but the Knights lived this life, making powerful moves as true bosses. So much so, that one of the members had earned a place on the Council.
Chapter Fourteen
Present Day.
After a long night at the Council’s clubhouse, Crown woke to brunch in bed the next morning. He hadn’t made it home until four a.m. and had forced himself to take the day off from the office. Nivéa knew he was exhausted because he hadn’t bothered to wake her when he came in. Since she had been there, it had become their routine for him to rouse her from sleep, no matter how late it was, so they could talk or make love until they both fell asleep.
Wanting to do something special for Crown, she prepared fish, grits, shrimp, fresh fruit for dessert, and freshly squeezed orange juice before waking him.
“This shit good as hell, ma. I appreciate you.” He told her between bites, his eyes heavy.
“You welcome.” Nivéa replied, leaning over to kiss his cheek before returning to feed Nyla.
From his side of the bed, Crown watched her with admiration as she breastfed, thinking it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed. He loved everything about Nivéa, especially how great a mother she was.
“What? Why you staring at me like that, baby?” She asked curiously when she noticed his gaze lingering.
“'Cause you beautiful.”
She smiled. “Aw, that’s so sweet, baby.”
“That’s the truth.” Crown replied before shifting the conversation.
“I got one last thing to take care of, and then you’ll be good to go back to your shop. Everything will return to normal, but I’m hiring security up there. Nothing to worry about. Just in case.”
“Okay,” Nivéa said, knowing what that meant. Boe was dead.
