Page 3 of The Fire We Make

Cleve opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Byron, lowering back into his chair. “Princess, why don’t you go home and get settled in? We can talk when I’m done here.”

Joy turned her narrowed eyes from Cleve to her father. “Since when am I not welcome in meetings?” She gripped the only empty chair, Cleve’s seat, to the left of her father and sat down, making it clear she had no intention of leaving.

“With you being out of commission and the alliance we were building being severed thanks to your… incident, we had to make some changes.”

“What changes?” Joy asked slowly, her voice flat and hard as she narrowed her gaze on her father.

“We had to move on without you,” he answered plainly, his voice sharp.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Joy asked. Her voice rose as her irritation did.

The table shifted uncomfortably, feeling the tension and already sensing how the meeting would go.

Joy was feared before her institutionalization. A young woman raised to be a killing machine and trained by the best criminal minds in the south was something of nightmares. Now, with the uncertainty surrounding her mental condition and the rumors swirling about the incident, six grown men watched the 28-year-old woman warily.

In a room full of killers, she inspired fear within them all, and she’d be a liar if she said she didn’t relish it.

Cleve cleared his throat. “We voted to dismiss you from your official role.”

She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?” Surely, she’d heard wrong. She’d given her childhood to building this organization and was next in line to run it. The Thibodeaux Cartel was hers, and she couldn’t just be dismissed.

Her eyes widened when she was met with silent confirmation.

“Half of this shit wouldn’t exist without me!” Joy exclaimed. That fact couldn’t be debated. The Thibodeaux family had lost their place in the Bayou Mafia until Joy had assisted her father in reclaiming it.

“That’s inconsequential,” Cleve waved her off. “You’re violent, erratic and unpredictable…You’re dangerous.”

Joy scoffed, turning to eye every man in the room. “Yeah, no shit I’m dangerous. My violence built this shit. So I had a little moment but I’m better now. What the fuck is y’alls problem? Daddy? You have nothing to say?”

Byron met her eyes, devoid of any emotion. “We voted, princess.”

“Well, what was the count? Y’all took a vote without me. My vote might skew it.”

“It was unanimous,” Cleve informed her.

When the words hit her ears, her heart crumbled and her head reared back as if she’d been struck. She looked to her father for confirmation that he too had voted her out and found no discrepancy.

Joy felt her anger rise and began the calming techniques she’d learned.

She closed her eyes briefly and took in a deep breath. Her nostrils flared as she tried to pull in fresh air, and her mouth formed into an ‘O’ as she dispelled the old from her lungs.

When she opened her eyes again, she laughed. Lowly at first, a chuckle of disbelief that held no humor. The men around the table watched her warily as the chuckle turned into a hysterical cackle.

Joy stood slowly, clutching her stomach as she continued laughing. Her eyes were closed and her head thrown back. She leaned against the back of her chair for support as she worked to calm herself. Tears were streaming down her face and she walked to her father’s desk to grab a tissue.

Once she’d stopped laughing, the room was dead silent. Everyone bounced their eyes between her, Byron, and each other as they awaited her next move.

“Y’all are deadass? You’re really kicking me out?” she asked, directing the second question to her father, who sat emotionless. She was sitting on the edge of his desk, only a few steps from where he sat at the head of the conference table. “What was I supposed to do? Let that nigga beat on me?”

“We have to do what’s best for the organization, as you should have. Right now, that’s not you,” Byron said. “You understand.”

“Says who? Him?” Joy asked, gesturing with disgust towards Cleve. He glared back at her.

“He proposed the vote, yes, and I trusted that he’s able to put the needs of this organization first without any biases that I may hold regarding the situation,” Byron said. “Going forward, Cleve will be my right hand and we will reevaluate your role in the family once we’re sure you’re stable. Marrying the Chapman boy is clearly off the table, but we’ll see how else you can be of use.”

Joy listened to her father with her jaw slack. She knew he was upset, but he was treating her like a disposable pawn rather than his daughter. Rather than his princess. His words hit her deep in her chest before her shock turned to white hot anger.

The edges of her vision blurred as Joy’s body shook with anger. She vibrated with the need to release it.