Page 65 of A Kingpin's Weakness
Trap House two.
No bodies. No noise. Just ghosts and tension. But behind a loose panel in the back, we found the bricks. The same bricks supposedly stolen when Noah got shot. Rich stood over them with a look that could slice marble.
“Slimy-ass nigga set the kid up?”
He shook his head, biting down so hard on his bottom lip, I thought he’d break skin.
Southside stepped closer. “But for what?”
I looked at the dusty packages, then at the empty room.
“Double profit,” I muttered. “He sold the product to the chico, got the money, and kept the dope. Planned to flip it again through more money so he can then keep buying through King and Pops. Noah was just the bait. Small fish. Ronnie ain’t give a fuck.”
Southside let out a breath like he’d been holding it since we left the first house. “That’s cold.”
“That’s Ronnie.” We torched that spot, too. No second chances. No remains.
Next Stop: Ronnie’s House. This was different. This wasn’t just a trap. This was home. The kind of place you tucked your kids in and kissed your wife goodnight. Which made what we were about to do even darker. But I didn’t give a fuck. Neither did Rich. Lia was gone. Stormi had been touched. And Ronnie had took the only superhero I knew. That made this personal.
There used to be rules in this life. Women and kids were always off-limits. You didn’t cross that line. Ever. But that was before Lia got zipped into a body bag and Stormi’s name ended up in a snake's mouth.
Now? Fuck them rules. I didn’t blink twice walking toward Ronnie’s crib. I had death on my breath and Stormi on my mind. Her voice, her skin, her taste still clinging to my lips like a promise I had to get back to.
"If this nigga already got a wife,"Southside muttered, scanning the block as we moved up,"how the hell was he gon’ marry Stormi?"
I didn’t even look at him. “Your guess as good as mine," I said, licking my bottom lip slow, Stormi’s flavor still fresh. "Maybe he thought she was another trophy. Maybe he ain’t think at all." All I knew was he wasn’t gon’ touch her. Not again. Not ever.”
Before Southside could respond, I caught movement from the corner of my eye. One of Ronnie’s soldiers was creeping up behind him with a pistol drawn.
Pop! My shot dropped him before he could blink. His body hit the pavement with a thud, and Southside spun around wide-eyed.
“Damn, nigga. Warn me first.” He checked his shirt like he expected to be bleeding.
“Wasn’t enough time.” I holstered my piece and moved forward. We had a mission.
Ronnie still lived in the same damn hood he supplied. Big boss but no foresight. Got your moms, grandma, wife, and kids sleeping under the same roof as your product. Stupid. Arrogant.
Made our job easy. Too easy. We had our soldier crack the system alarm off, door open, silence in the air like it knew what was coming.
Room by room, we moved through the house like shadows. Every bedroom held someone who shared blood with Ronnie. And every single one of ‘em went to sleep that night not knowing it would be their last.
No fear. No pain. Just dark. Lia ain’t get that mercy. Stormi ain’t get that protection. And my pops got no loyalty. This was balance.
Last bedroom. That’s when we heard her voice.
“Ronnie… I think someone’s here.” She whispered like it mattered.
I kicked the door in. The woman scrambled for the gun Ronnie kept on his side of the bed. Too slow.
“Hand me the motherfuckin’ phone,” I said, walking straight to her, snatching it out of her hand and pressing the speaker before the snake could slither away.
“Ronnie,” I said, my voice flat, deadly. “You’ve been a busy man.”
His voice came smooth and smug through the line. “Seth. You haven’t been busy enough.”
“How ‘bout you stop hiding and face me like a man?”
“We’ll meet. In due time.”
