Page 35 of Claimed By A Blue Eyed Menace

Jacobs swallowed hard, trying to appear confident. “Mr. Mosley, I respect your family and all, but this zoning deal…there are concerns from the community—”

“Fuck your concerns,” I cut him off sharply. “We pay you to keep the community out our business, not bring their problems to our table. You want your pockets lined, don’t you?”

He hesitated, glancing towards Seth for help. He remained silent, letting me handle this. My father’s gaze never left me, watching to see if I’d handle this like the boss he figured I could never be. “You gotta understand,” Jacobs stammered weakly. “The people—”

I slammed my hand down on the table, startling his bitch ass. “The people don’t run shit. You either ride with us or we find somebody else who will.” The councilman visibly shrank under my stare, eyes dropping submissively. I leaned forward, my voice dropping lower, more lethal. “And I promise you, you don’t want me lookin’ for your replacement.”

Jacobs wiped his forehead, nodding quickly. “Understood, Mr. Mosley. I’ll…I’ll make sure it’s approved by Monday.”

I sat back slowly, a sinister smirk spreading across my lips. “Good. Now get the fuck out.”

Jacobs scrambled up, nearly tripping over his own feet as he hurried from the room. Once he was gone, Seth leaned back, lighting a cigar, eyes locked on me. “Could’ve gone smoother. Next time don’t make us wait on your ass.”

My jaw flexed again, but I kept my voice coldly respectful. “You wanted it handled. I handled it. Quit trippin’.”

Seth stared at me long and hard before a faint smirk appeared. “You always been a hothead but at least you’re consistent.”

I stood up, straightening my shirt. “Anything else? I got shit to do.”

Seth waved dismissively, already turning away. I stepped into the hallway, the tension pulling slightly from my shoulders. Sliding into my car, I fired up another blunt, exhaling slowly as I drove back toward the penthouse. My phone vibrated in the cupholder. It was a text from Parker.

My girls are coming over, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, gripping the steering wheel tighter. This girl stayed testing me. I tapped out a quick reply.

Keep the ratchet shit cool.

A response came instantly.

Handle your business, and I’ll handle mine.

I grimaced, shaking my head. She had no idea who she was playing with. When I got home, I was going to remind her exactly who ran shit. I climbed into my Ferrari, music bumping, blunt burning. At the next red light, I felt eyes on me from the side, the uncomfortable weight of a gaze full of hatred and fury. Slowly, I turned my head and caught sight of a tricked-out Challenger pulled up next to me.

A young nigga was glaring hard, jaw clenched like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. The window rolled down, and the dude barked, voice filled with raw aggression. “Shooter Mosley, huh? You thought you were just gon’ ride around after you smoked my brother, Gino, and sent him to my mama's house like that? Nah nigga, you gon’ pay with your fuckin’ life!”

My eyes narrowed sharply. Before I could even reply, he whipped out a pistol, raising it toward my head. My reflexes kicked in instantly. I ducked, pressing the accelerator hard as glass exploded from the bullet hitting my back window. “This dumb muthafucka,” I muttered, gripping the wheel with one hand as I swerved wildly, peeling off through traffic.

Adrenaline rushed through me as my heart slammed against my chest. Cars honked, tires screeched, and pedestrians jumped out of the way. I glanced into the rearview mirror—the Challenger was tailing close behind, weaving recklessly through the cars, desperate to keep up.

I kept one hand firm on the wheel while reaching for my Glock from my waistband and the silencer from under the seat. Smoothly, I screwed the silencer into place, bullets already loaded. I refused to die over some reckless-ass nigga trying to avenge a weak-ass brother. Hell nah. I’d send him to be with his brother instead.

I turned sharply, pulling into a tight, secluded alleyway. Just as expected, the Challenger skidded in behind me, tires kicking up dirt and gravel. I jumped out immediately, heart thudding with anticipation, gun cocked and ready. The hothead climbed out too, pistol waving around like a rookie, eyes wild with rage.

“You fucked up killin’ Gino, muthafucka! Now it’s your turn!”

I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t talk shit, didn’t give him a chance to breathe another threat. My finger squeezed the trigger without a second thought. One precise shot straight between his eyes dropped him instantly, his body collapsing into a heap of worthless flesh.

My jaw clenched tightly, nostrils flaring as I stood over his twitching corpse. A dangerous silence filled the alley. My blood boiled as I pumped more bullets into him, the silencer muffling each shot. “This what you wanted? You and your bitch ass brother in hell now,” I muttered coldly, my chest rising and falling heavily.

I spat directly on his lifeless body, disgusted, before tucking the Glock into my waistband. I quickly scanned the area, making sure no witnesses were lingering nearby. Shit was clean enough for now, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Sliding back into my truck, I pulled out my phone, dialing Ren as I drove out of the alleyway.

“Yo,” I barked as soon as he answered, “got some trash need pickin’ up ASAP. Alley off Kingston. Tell them niggas make it quick.”

“Say less but uh…” his words trailed over, further adding to my annoyance.

“Spit that shit out, nigga!”

“We got another situation that needs your immediate attention.”

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