It started innocently; running errands for the local hustlers, including my father, doing odd jobs to make a few bucks here and there when I was twelve and thirteen. But as I got older, I began to see the potential for something more lucrative, something that would elevate me from the streets to the top of the criminal food chain.
When my father was killed, I felt the pressure of figuring out my place in the game on my own. I started small, selling stolen goods and running small-time scams. But it wasn’t long before I realized that the real money was in weapons.
I started building connections with others in the underground arms trade. I learned how the business worked and sharpened my skills as a negotiator, smuggler, and strategist.
Before I knew it, I had built a reputation for myself, a name that struck fear into the hearts of my enemies and commanded respect from my allies. I was no longer just a street kid trying to make ends meet, and many people assumed that I was the typical dope boy. I allowed them to make those generalizations. But, I was, in fact, one of the most notorious players in the dangerous game of underground arms dealing.
There were many reasons why my clients chose to purchase weapons from me. Organized crime syndicates sought out my services to acquire weapons quickly and discreetly. I had access to a wider variety of weapons than what was available legally. This included military-grade firearms, explosives, and other specialized equipment that was restricted or prohibited for civilian purchase. Purchasing weapons through legal channels requireddocumentation and background checks, which created a paper trail and revealed the buyer’s identity. By buying from an arms dealer, criminals could maintain secrecy and avoid law enforcement. Even for those who purchased weapons for recreational purposes, getting weapons legally was subject to regulations, waiting periods, and other governmental hurdles that delayed the purchase process. I offered a more streamlined and expedited means of obtaining weapons, bypassing the need for paperwork and official approval.
The clients in our world were diverse. Most were the mafia or the cartel. Their greedy appetite for control drove them to seek out the deadliest weapons money could buy.
But it wasn’t just the criminals who came knocking on my door. We had clients from all walks of life, from corrupt politicians looking to arm their private security details to wealthy businessmen seeking protection for their illicit dealings.
No matter who they were or what they wanted, they all paid generously for my services.
“For now, we’ll just have to tread carefully,” I told Taye after a moment of reflection. “My reputation and status in this city are just as lethal as any cartel. They know better than to come at me sideways.”
Taye nodded, but I could see doubt lingering in his brow. “Okay. But things are getting tense out there. We might need to start thinking about halting business to both sides.”
I clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. “If it comes to it, we’ll handle it, like we always do.”
DAMAR SCOTT
I eased the front door open quietly and slipped into the darkness of the foyer without making a sound. It was nearly four in the morning, and I knew Aviana had been asleep for hours since she and Mia had left Enchant a little after midnight.
My heart was still pumping like I’d had three energy drinks, so I passed our bedroom, walked down the hallway, and slipped into my home office. I shut the door gently behind me. My eyes adjusted quickly to the dimness as I moved toward the rug in the center of the room. Kneeling down, I carefully rolled one corner back and slipped my fingers under a loose floorboard.
It creaked softly as I lifted it up. Reaching inside, I pulled out the phone and pressed the power button, feeling a dark satisfaction as the apple lit up the screen.
This was Aviana’s old phone.
Months ago, she’d misplaced it during a small party we’d thrown. We’d both shrugged it off as stolen or accidentally tossed out with the trash. She bought a replacement the very same night, which arrived the next day.
But weeks later, I found it under the couch while looking for the TV remote. Curious, I charged the phone and powered it on. I had been wondering if another man was responsible for the emotional chill she’d been giving me. Aviana had blamed my work schedule on her unhappiness, yet something told me there was another reason for the detachment behind those pretty brown eyes.
That night, I’d scrolled through her messages, searching for proof. At first, I just found boring conversations with friends and family. But then the phone chimed in my hand, lighting up with a new message. And then another. Real-time texts appeared on the screen, and suddenly, I understood. She’d never deleted this phone from her iCloud account. As long as the phone was connected to Wi-Fi, it got every call and text message.
So, I’d hidden the phone, obsessively checking it every chance I got. I even took it on trips with me. It became my compulsive lifeline to further guarantee control over her.
Using the old phone, I’d shared her location with me.
There were tiny, wireless cameras strategically hidden throughout the house where the security cameras weren’t. I watched her at my leisure, studying her.
If she was hiding something, I’d know.
I’d even installed a keylogger on her laptop. Every email she typed, every search she made, I monitored from my own devices.
Aviana would always be mine. I’d invested too many years molding her into exactly what I wanted, shaping her decisions, her habits, even her friendships. She thought she’d chosen me freely, but freedom was an illusion I’d carefully crafted.
I leaned back slowly in my leather chair. My eyes were locked on the phone as messages poured in. Aviana was smart, beautiful, and talented. She had qualities I loved when they served me, but ones I had to temper when they didn’t. Every time she took a step forward, achieved something, found confidence or strength, I reminded her of her limitations with an indirect comment about her inability to succeed without me, a casual remark of doubt masked as concern, or an unintentional dismissal of her ambitions that she believed to be harmless teasing. Over time, those quiet words sank in, weakening her foundation. I had become the source of her validation and the measuring stick for her worth.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
Because Aviana couldn’t leave. She wouldn’t. Not when I’d convinced her that no one else would truly understand her or take care of her the way I could. Every carefully timed withdrawal of affection, every cold shoulder I gave her always brought her back to me, needy and desperate for my approval. She thrived on the rare praise I rationed out like expensive gifts and starved with my calculated detachment.
Love was ownership. And Aviana was my most prized possession. I couldn’t allow someone else to take her away.
So, I watched. I tracked. I manipulated. It was easy because she never suspected the monster behind my charming smile. And as long as she believed that smile, she would always remain exactly where she belonged, which was under my control, by my side. Forever.
