Page 54 of A Kingpin's Weakness
“Can I see you this weekend?”
“Not this weekend,” he said. “I gotta fly out. Meet with the connect. I need them supplying only me work so I can freeze all these niggas out. Make 'em come beg for product. Get all them under control.”
My crew didn’t flinch. They just listened. Every word Ronnie said was a shovel to his own grave.
“You think Seth’s boys’ll go for that?” she asked.
“They won’t have a choice,” he said like he was already king. “Might have to take Rich and Southside out too, his lapdogs.”
I heard Rich’s knuckles crack. Southside didn’t move a muscle.
“Baby,” she cooed, “I just want you to be careful out there.”
“You always thinking about me,” he muttered, then laughed low. “Sorry I can’t get it up. Don’t know what’s going on with me.”
“Don’t worry, Daddy. We’ll have plenty of time for that.”
Video cut. Southside snatched his phone back, face blank. The room didn’t move. My people didn’t blink. They were waiting. They knew the play. But not the plan. And they were looking at me for it.
I looked down at my hands. My father’s hands. The hands that held this city, carried this name, and now they were shaking. Not from fear from restraint.
Because I wanted to walk out of here, find Ronnie, and end him tonight. Not quick. Not clean. But I was raised better than that. Pops didn’t teach me how to throw a punch, he taught me how to make it count.
So, I took a breath. And when I spoke, my voice came out calm. Controlled. Deadly.
“He wants a throne so bad?” I said, eyes burning. “Let’s build him a cage that looks just like it.”
The room was still. Not silent, just still. Like the moment right before a thunderstorm hits. Like the wind holding its breath, waiting for the skies to break open. We all sat in it, letting the weight of it hang over our heads. The truth. The rage. The plans we didn’t say out loud yet. I could feel Rich ready to snap. Southside was already one trigger pull from action. Me, I just sat there, feeling the ache behind my eyes, the fire in my chest.
Then my phone rang. Loud. Sharp. Almost disrespectful.
Stormi.
I pressed answer, bringing it to my ear without thinking. “Bae.”
“Seth, you okay?”
Her voice was soft, but it held weight. Worry. A little irritation underneath. I’d heard that tone before, but today it hit different.
“Yeah, why?”
“You left at four in the morning. It’s almost four p.m. You haven’t come back.”
“I had some things to handle.” My voice came out flat, controlled. “I’ll be home after.”
“And I’m just supposed to sit here all day, wondering if you’re breathing or not?”
“You can go downstairs. Chill with Mama and S3. But don’t leave the house.”
“So I’m a prisoner now?”
I rubbed my forehead with my free hand, trying not to snap. “You chained up? You locked in a room?”
“I’m not free to go.”
“And you know why.”
She went quiet.
