"You wanna know why you're confused about this shit? When we came to live with you, I was eighteen, but a grown ass man in every sense of the word. I was young, but I touchedmoney men twice my age wasn’t earning in a year. I've killed niggas, disposed of bodies, and some other shit I won't put on you. Couldn't even buy a drink legally, but I knew how to scrub a surface of DNA. Crown was what… fifteen back then? Yeah, he was in the streets with me, but that nigga wasn't seeing a quarter of the shit I was. His reach only went as far as I allowed."
My hands rested on the table, gripping the edge like I was still holding my brother back from experiencing the ill shit I faced.
"Wolfe was even younger, but it was more of the same. I had that nigga counting money to keep him out the way. I made sure they were able to do teenager shit because I didn't want them growing up too fast. You babied them niggas, Gigi. We both did in one way or another, that's why you don't understand this shit with us. Wolfe and Crown had each other, you, Navy, and me to help guide them through this cold fucking world. Who the fuck did I have? No one around was protecting me from Chance whooping my ass anytime I missed a target or went over the time set for me to break in and out of a spot. I had to eat all that shit, and I did."
"Honor—" Gigi called out with saddened eyes, but I wasn't looking for sympathy. A nigga just wanted to be heard and understood.
"Nah, Gigi, let me finish. I know y'all think I'm this cruel, cold ass nigga that don't give a fuck, and y'all right. I'm all that, but I gotta be so Wolfe and Crown don't have to. I'm not the bad guy, Gi."
I sighed, the weight of all this shit pressing down on me like it had a life of its own.
"I've never been the bad guy. I'm the nigga who always puts his family first. I always move in my brothers' best interests. I'll stand in the fire to protect them niggas, flames can burn me 'til I'm ashes, and I wouldn't give a fuck long as Wolfe and Crownare safe. Take bullets, do the time for them niggas. They'remyfucking family, so how do I end up being the villain for protecting them? Fuck outta here! I'm the villain, but that nigga Crown?—"
My words became a hollow, humorless chuckle.
"Instead of talking to me about innocence and this bullshit, you should've hit Crown and told him how fucked up he is. That nigga is engaged and got a twins on the way, and he ain't say shit to me about it. Out of all muthafuckas to tell, my own brother didn't say shit." My throat burned, the words cracking as they forced themselves out. "I bet Wolfe knew, though," I scoffed, my voice hoarse with hurt that slipped out like venom I couldn't bite back.
"Honor, why would he tell you after you stood in the middle of the street and had your 'Training Day' moment?"
"Fuck is that supposed to mean? Matter fact don't answer that. I don't give a fuck what I did. When life-changing shit happens, bullshit gets pushed aside. At the end of the day, we're family. Nothing said should be enough to turn our backs on each other."
"You have every right to feel how you feel, but Crown doesn't have to feel the same way about the situation."
"I know. And that's why that nigga is him, and I'm me. I gotta go, Gigi."
Rising from my seat, I walked around the table and dropped a kiss on Gigi's forehead. As I pulled back, she grabbed both my hands, stopping me.
"Thank you for all that you do for us," she expressed, smiling wearily, her eyes still glossed with a sadness I knew wouldn't disappear until Crown and I fixed things.
"Don't thank me for them niggas. If they can't do it themselves, maybe I haven't done as much as I thought. I'll call you later."
Gigi's hands trembled on mine, but I pulled away, needing to get the fuck out of this house. Once outside, I looked up at the sky. Tears brewed, but I wasn't about to let them fall.
If this is the type of shit I gotta deal with to balance out the blessing of Navy, then I'll endure it all, Head held high, shoulders squared.
After my quick talk with God, I hopped in my whip and called Choyce. Her phone rang out, pissing me off. I tried again, got the same result, and left a message.
"I'm pulling up. Be home."
Choyce Mancinelli
If his stupidass paces in front of me one more time, I swear he won't have to worry about Lucian wanting to kill me.
I snickered at the thought of putting Talon out of his misery because a thought was all it could be. Regardless of how I felt about him, Talon was Cherish's father, and she loved him. That was reason enough for me to make sure he stayed breathing.
I thought moving us into a house I purchased in Briar Ridge was doing what's best for our family. Lucian didn't know about the property, which meant Talon was safe. Lucian was unpredictable. It was nothing for him to ask Honor to kill Talon, just for him to turn around and do it himself. Keeping distance between the two seemed like the smart thing to do, only Talon was making it unbearable.
My place was spacious, but it wasn't as big as our mansion. Living in such a condensed space with Talon reminded me just how much he got on my nerves. First, he bitched about why we had to live here. I told him I wanted Cherish to go to a school in the neighborhood, and he swore the idea was stupid since she attended one of the best private schools in the state. Once I stopped arguing with him about that, he chilled out, and we fell back into our normal routine.
Then, out of the blue, he came home last week, saying Lucian had someone following him and probably wanted to kill him. A part of me wanted to tell him there wasn’t aprobablyabout it. Lucian wanted him dead and never missed a chance to hint at it. Lucian's comments weren't direct, but I'd been around him long enough to read between the lines. He was running out of patience waiting on Honor to do what he agreed to.
More than once, I thought about how easy it'd be for me to do it. We lived together, and he was right there.
Poison in his food or drink. Quick. Clean. Done.
Still, again, he was Cherish's father. I really didn't have a choice but to wait for Honor to come up with a plan — that and the fact that I'd only killed once before, which still somewhat haunted me.
My first time was at the mill with Honor. His voice, raspy and lifeless, quietly daring me to pull the trigger like he already knew that was my first kill, like he knew he was stripping away the last piece of innocence I had left… and didn't give a fuck.
