Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
By midnight on Thursday, the internet belonged to Zena.
The Alegna EP dropped across all major streaming platforms, and the response was an instantaneous wildfire. Track four, the ballad she had made after Danger broke her heart in the studio was pinned at the very top of the global charts within three hours.
Zena sat on her living room floor, her back pressed against the sofa, watching the numbers climb in real-time on her laptop screen. Amari and Genesis were on either side of her, a half-empty bottle of tequila on the coffee table and their phones constantly buzzing with notifications.
"Look at the trending topics!" Genesis screamed, shoving her phone screen directly into Zena’s face. "You’re number one in the world, Zee! Every major playlist just gave you the cover spot."
"The reviews are calling it a flawless R his mind kept drifting to Zena.
They had made it official, and he could show her off peacefully.
He had texted Chyna just before they had sex the first time and cut whatever ties he had left.
She didn’t even respond, just liked the message.
He had just gotten out of back-to-back meetings and was taking a moment for himself when his office door burst open, and Yasmin walked in, a worried look on her face.
“Can I please just get five minutes to fucking breathe!” Danger yelled, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I’m sorry, boss, but I-I um… think you need to see this immediately?” Yasmin pulled her iPad from behind her back and handed it over, her fingers trembling slightly against the case.
He snatched it, staring at the screen. It was an email from an anonymous sender, and at first glance, he would have thought it was a scam. But after staring at it a bit longer, his eyes caught the subject line. It read, Is this your princess?
Curiosity killed the cat. Danger pressed play.
The video started out black at first, before it focused on a woman with a perfect oiled ass with a butterfly tattoo going across it. She was on the edge of the bed, jiggling it, while the man who was recording it smacked it with a tatted hand.
Danger shot Yasmin a lethal look. “The fuck is this?”
“Just keep watching…” She shifted her weight, looking at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.
The camera panned left, revealing they weren’t alone. A pair of brown legs stretched out on the bed. The woman then approached her.
The camera panned, catching the face on the bed, and Danger’s heart dropped to his knees. Her wild hair sprawled across the pillow, covering most of her face, but he recognized her.
It was Zena.
She was nude, her eyes glassy, clearly under the influence of something.
He watched for about four seconds before he slammed the iPad face down on the desk. In a single motion, his arm swept across the desk, sending everything crashing to the floor.
He thought about Zena.
The song she recorded three months ago had been different from the others. More specific. He had listened to it four times, and each time his chest had tightened around a specific understanding he was trying to read between the lines.
Now the puzzle pieces are locked into place.
He picked up his phone. Made two calls to his head of security and kept the call to exactly six words.
“Get ready, we’re going to Atlanta.”
It took about forty-eight hours to establish J-Rock's whereabouts.
He was still in Atlanta, still moving in industry circles.
Royal Reign had restructured twice since Supreme stepped back.
J-Rock now owned a club. Publicly, he seemed untouchable.
Privately, he drank too much, trusted the wrong people, and had a habit of talking too much to the wrong people.
Danger walked in at eleven on Friday night. The bar was busy enough that nobody paid him much attention. He nodded to the bartender, who pointed toward the back without being asked.
J-Rock was in a private room getting head when Danger sat down. He told Darius and Marco to stand at the door.
J-Rock looked at Danger across the table.
“Raise up,” Danger told the women. “We need the room.”
The girl got up and was gone in thirty seconds.
J-Rock straightened in his chair, adjusted himself.
"Dangerous Records," J-Rock smirked. "Long way from Richmond."
“Not that far." Danger sat down across from him, his posture relaxed. "I came to talk about a business opportunity."
J-Rock looked at Darius and Marco. Looked at Danger. “Could’ve called,” he muttered.
"Some things require a personal touch.”
J-Rock spread his hands. "Talk then. You chased away my entertainment."
Danger didn’t answer him directly; instead, he reached into his jacket and set a small vial on the table between them. A white powder inside.
J-Rock picked it up. Turned it over. "The fuck is this?"
"New thing that goes by X9. Moving like hot cakes in Richmond.
I've got a good plug and more supply than I can move locally.
Looking to see if you can connect me with buyers down here.
You'd get a fifty percent finder's fee." Danger leaned back.
"But first…try it. You'll understand why it's selling. "
J-Rock looked at the vial. Looked at Danger. He licked his lips.
He opened the vial. Tapped the powder onto his hand. Sniffed it without hesitating.
"Oh shit." He leaned back in his chair, blinking slowly, and a smirk spread across his face. "That's—"
"Good, right?"
"Yeah." J-Rock's head tipped back slightly. "Yeah, that's—"
Danger waited, watching J-Rock’s eyes grow big.
After a few minutes, J-Rock was paralyzed in the chair. His chest was lifting in shallow jerks, his eyes rolling back as his nervous system collapsed. The smirk was gone.
Danger reached across the table and picked up J-Rock's phone.
The passcode took thirty seconds. It was J-Rock's birthday, which Danger had established before he came down here, because he had prepared for everything. He found the email thread. Found the video. Found the copies J-Rock had kept in a folder with other things Danger didn't look at.
He deleted everything. All of it, then emptied the trash.
He set the phone back on the table.
He would be dead in twenty minutes. Maybe less.
Danger stood.
He looked at him for a moment.
"I came down here to make sure you felt it," Danger said quietly. "That's all. Niggas like you think they can get away with shit. Karma’s a bitch. "
He picked up the empty vial from the table and put it back in his jacket.
He walked out of the private room. Past the bar, past the tables, out through the front door into the Atlanta night. Darius and Marco fell into step beside him without a word.
They were in the car and on the highway before anyone in that bar understood what had happened. His death would be ruled an overdose, and no one would really miss him.
Danger looked out the passenger window at Atlanta receding behind them.
He thought about Zena. About the pool. About a woman who had been trying to get back to herself for years while the people who had taken from her went on living their lives without consequence. He was prepared to take care of anyone who stood in the way of her happiness.
He pulled out his phone and deleted the email from his own account. Then he put the phone away, watched the highway, and didn't say anything for the rest of the drive.