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I let the video keep playing until Kharti got out and the car moved down the street. Just before it disappeared from the camera's view, the license plate caught my attention.

I paused the video and zoomed in.

DRGN1238

I stared at it for a second, and then it all made sense: who this car belonged to, Dragon’s black ass.

Kharti’s dad used to work for Dragon back in the day before he got locked up. But now he was sitting in prison, which meant there was no reason for him to be the one riding around in that car. Plus, from what I hear, Dragon is a selfish mutha fucka, so he wouldn't have anyone else driving a $300,000 car. Everything I heard about Dragon back in the day was about how fucked up of a nigga he was, from Pops and what my mom used to say. They always said to stay away from him because he didn’t have a good reputation in the streets, and neither did the people around him. I need to know ASAP what kind of business him and Kharti have.

Once we pulled up to South Hill, I drove up to the front of Toya’s building to let her out.

"I'll be back over here to make sure everything's hooked up straight later. I have to go handle some shit right now."

"Okay, and I just want to say thank you so much for everything, Caine, from the bottom of my heart. Even the food was good as hell." She replied, gathering up the trash in her hand.

"It's no problem. I told you I'd do anything if you came through for me."

"Okay, Caine, thank you. See you later."

She opened the door and got out of the car. I watched her walk inside her apartment, and once her door shut, I drove off and dialed up the craziest nigga I know.

"Yo, what's up, Lil bro?" Duke answered the phone.

"I need to come scoop you. Where you at?"

"I'm at the trap house right now. Scoop me for what?"

"Some shit that I can't talk about over the phone. I'd rather talk about it in person."

"Say no more, Lil bro. Come through," he replied, and I burnt off to his location.

When I pulled up outside the trap, Duke was standing outside slap boxing with a little dude we know named Rakai as they laughed and talked shit. I blew the horn twice to get his attention.

“I’m coming, hold on.” He turned and yelled at my car.

“Just let me show this little nigga why he doesn’t need to fuck with a nigga like me.” He threw a jab at Rakai’s chest, making him stumble backwards.

“This nigga needs to bring his ass on,” I mumbled to myself, watching Duke continue to punch the little dude until he playfully surrendered. Duke then jogged over to my car, yanking the door open and dropping his stocky ass in my passenger seat, making the car feel that much smaller. I hated riding in my whip with this nigga.

“You got your strap on you?” I asked.

“My strap? I need a strap for this shit. I thought we were going to talk over a piece of chicken or some shit.”

“When the last time I ate with you, nigga? This some shit we need protection for.”

“Say no more then nigga. Let me grab another pistol. I got one on me, but I don’t know how much ammo in this motherfucker.”

Duke got out of the car and went into the trap, then came back out and got in the car.

“So, what’s going on, baby bro? Tell me what this is about.”

“We got some business to handle in the hood,” I replied as I shot off the block.

“Business, what kind of business do you have to deal with that involves me?”

“The kind that your ass thrives on.”

Duke started to grin.