Page 53 of A Kingpin's Weakness
I leaned closer. My stomach twisted.
“I told you I’m taking over this city,” Ronnie said, leaning back like he was in a movie. “This shit was always supposed to be mine. Seth should’ve never been throned king.”
My mouth parted. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath.
“You deserve to be king,” the girl purred. “You’re my king.”
Ronnie grinned. So smug. So damn blind. “Yeah. King is what I’m gonna be.”
She giggled, rubbing her hands down his chest. “What can I do to help you, baby?”
He paused, cocked his head, then shrugged like it was nothing.
“I got this under control. I took out Seth Sr. already. It’ll be nothing to take out the mini version of him.”
I froze. Everything in me stilled. It was like the room dropped out from under me, and I was falling but not moving. He said it like it was casual. Like it was just business. Like killing my father was just part of the plan.
“That slimy ass nigga,” Rich growled in the background, but I couldn’t even look at him.
Southside was still posted against the wall, head down, jaw tight. He wasn’t looking at me either. Maybe he couldn’t.
But me? I was staring at that screen like it was the last thing I’d ever see. Because it wasn’t just the betrayal. It was how comfortable Ronnie was saying it. How casual. Like my father didn’t save him. Like he didn’t eat at our table. Like he wasn’t at the damn funeral.
He killed him. My father’s right hand. His so-called brother. His shadow. That man murdered him, then smiled in my face for years. The taste in my mouth turned bitter. My hands started shaking; subtle at first. Then harder. My nails dug into my palms, trying to ground me. But there was no ground anymore. There was only rage. Thick and hot, rising up from my chest, climbing my throat, settling in my skull like wildfire. And guilt. Because I let him get close.
The room was heavy. Not loud. Not chaotic. Just still. Like the moment right before a thunderstorm breaks a summer sky.
“Might not even kill him,” Ronnie said, like my life was some dice he could roll. “Might keep him locked up somewhere while he watches me fuck on Stormi ass.”
Stormi.
He said her name like it was a prize. Like she was something you take instead of someone you earn. Like he didn’t just sign his death certificate.
“Who’s Stormi?” she asked, voice syrupy and curious, like she wasn’t filming a federal-level confession.
“This bitch Seth think he can call play on. She was supposed to be mine.”
I clenched my jaw so tight my back teeth felt like they cracked.
“Who does she want?”
He snorted. “Damn woman, you ask a lot of questions. You the FBI?”
“I’m just saying,” she replied, casual like they weren’t plotting madness. “If she wants him and not you, how you gonna make her yours?”
Ronnie laughed. The kind of laugh that told me he really thought he had this in the bag. Thought he was smarter and inevitable.
“See, she’ll do anything for her little brother. And young blood owe me money and product. They broke asses don’t got the bread to pay up, but that sweet shit between Stormi’s legs?” He licked his lips. “That’s enough payment for me.”
My hands curled into fists slow. He was talking about raping her. My girl. Like she was currency. A debt payoff. A damn asset. This man wanted to kill me, take my throne, wear my father's crown, and break the only woman I care about? Niggas really don’t value their life. And the crazy thing is? He smiled the whole way through.
“This nigga really think he’s gonna kill me.” I felt, the heat in my chest rising slow and hot. “Be with Stormi, and run my empire after putting a bullet in my father’s head?”
He was never loyal. Never grieving. Just waiting for his moment. Now it's mine.
The woman kept talking. “Seems like you got it all planned out.”
“Not all of it,” Ronnie said, rubbing his chin. “I’m playing that shit as I go.”
