Page 83 of Cannon
I stared back, my face giving away nothing. Five years inside taught me how to wear a mask better than anyone. “I’m breathing.”
“That’s it? Just breathing?”
“What you want me to say? That I’m struggling? That I’m eating ramen every night? That I can’t even afford decent furniture?” I kept my voice flat. “I’m good.”
Creed nodded slowly, like he expected that answer. “Listen, I know you don’t want shit from us, but there’s something you should know. The money mother left you?—”
“I don’t want it.”
Ignoring my defiance, he continued, “The inheritance. We put it in a high-yield savings account. It’s been sitting there gathering interest. Whenever you’re ready, it’s yours.”
The mention of that money made my stomach twist. Blood money. Guilt money. The Kings trying to buy their way out of what they did to me.
“I’ll never be ready for that shit,” I said. But something else was gnawing at me. Something more pressing. “You know anybody who can hack a crypto wallet?”
Creed’s eyebrow raised, just a fraction. Interest piqued. “Crypto, huh? Why?”
I didn’t respond. Just waited.
“I might know someone,” he finally said, picking up his glass again. “Someone who’s very good at getting into places they shouldn’t be able to. I’ll get back to you.”
I pushed off from the wall. “Do that.”
“I got you. So. Give me everything you know about Smoke and his people. If we take him out, we take them all out. No room for comebacks.”
I studied him, weighing the words. Part of me wanted to walk out, let the Kings handle their own shit. But Smoke wasn’t just their problem anymore. He was mine. He was Queen’s.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, voice low and cold. “Fine. Here’s what I got on Smoke. His crew. His spots. His habits.”
I laid it out piece by piece, never giving him more than I had to, never taking my eyes off his face. I could trust Creed just enough to form an alliance. But not enough to forget whose blood ran in his veins.
When I finished, Creed nodded once, calm as ever. “Good. That’s a start.”
I stood, pulling my hoodie tighter. “Don’t get it twisted. I ain’t doing this for you. I’m doing this because Smoke crossed a line.”
Creed’s lips curved, the faintest hint of a smile. “Doesn’t matter why, little brother. What matters is, we finish this.”
Little brother. That shit burned, but I let it slide, for now. Because one thing was certain: when it came to Smoke, we were on the same page. Everyone else? Jury’s still out.
Chapter 32
Queen
Sylk Road was so peaceful when we were closed, but that’s how I liked it when I had to handle the books. Mondays through Wednesdays the doors stayed locked, the floors stayed clean, and it was just me, my laptop, and the numbers. Numbers didn’t flirt. Numbers didn’t lie. They told me exactly who was doing their job and who thought they could get slick.
Except today, the numbers weren’t adding up.
I stared at the screen again, my eyes dragging across the balance sheet. Thirty thousand dollars. Gone. Not a slow bleed, not a couple bottles unaccounted for but thirty grand missing like someone had walked in with a ski mask and emptied the safe.
“Hell no,” I muttered, scrolling back through receipts, bank statements, liquor orders. Nothing explained the gap.
Nori was the one who handled the accounting when I didn’t have time. She was sharp with numbers, detail-oriented, the kind of woman who could recite vendor invoices from memory. But thirty thousand didn’t just walk off the books. Somebody had to have helped it along.
I hit her number on speed dial, drumming my nails against the desk until she picked up.
“Hey, Queen,” Nori answered, casual like everything was normal.
“Don’t ‘hey Queen’ me,” I snapped. “Where the fuck is my thirty thousand?”
