Nyce - Wednesday | 928pm
Nyce
I had done what needed to be done, and that was get Princess away from the city.
Little did she know, but I’d opened up an account and tossed some money in it to set her up in case shit went left.
The way we fucked before she left wasn’t regular ass sex.
Then again, it never was. It cracked something open in my chest and stayed there, even with me plotting to kill her father.
Leaving the mansion, I pulled the front door shut and stood there on the stoop for a second, rolling my shoulders back, breathing deeply. Belvin was already waiting in front, engine humming, low-beam lights throwing shadows across the quiet street.
I slid into the back seat, answering the call coming through on my phone. “Yeah.”
“Still on for tonight?”
“Locked and loaded. Alert the clean-up crew, butcher shop, and alibis,” I responded to Crook, my tone leaving no room for questions. “It’s time to finish this shit. It's interfering with other business I have to handle.”
“Ain’t gotta tell me twice. I’ll send the word.”
I ended the call and leaned back in the seat as Belvin pulled away from the curb. The tires hummed low as we cut through the neighborhoods. “You good?” Belvin finally asked, briefly glancing over his shoulder.
I gave him a nod, eyes straight ahead. “I’m tired of this back and forth, tit for tat bullshit. Ain’t no turning back.”
“You sure you wanna do this? Killing her pops might not sit right with her.”
I didn’t answer him right away. I just reached down, pulled my Glock from my waistband, checked the clip like it was second nature, and rested it in my lap. My thumb slowly tapped against the grip. “I’ll worry about that later.” I pulled out my phone again and made another call.
“My most unpredictable client,” came the voice on the other end with a chuckle.
“You got something for me?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Cruz chuckled. “Check your account. Half of that pretty little payday the councilman gave me should be sitting in yours.”
I nodded, grip tightening around the phone. “Good.”
“I told you,” Cruz said, “I don’t switch sides. This was your play… me pretending to be the hired hitman.” He laughed again, dark and real. “So what’s next? You need me in on the cleanup?”
“Nah, that’s handled. This part?” I leaned back in the seat, eyes on the road. “It’s personal.”
He was quiet for a beat, then said, “Understood. You know where to find me.”
I ended the call, smirking. Cruz always came through when needed. That’s why I kept him on payroll. These muthafuckas had crossed the official line, and I was more than ready to end this cat-and-mouse game. I had better shit to do.
I’d gotten the drop on this nigga Zeke and Don, and less than forty-five minutes later, Belvin had arrived at a lake house deep in the ‘burbs.
Moving quietly, I got out of the Rolls, crept up to the house, and looked through the windows, where I saw these sad ass muthafuckas.
Zeke was slumped on the leather couch, sweating through his shirt, hands shaking as he brought a glass of whiskey to his lips.
His tie hung loose and crooked like his spine.
His pupils were blown wide, his nose was raw and red, and I could tell his breathing was uneven.
He looked exactly how men look when they’ve already lost but still pretend otherwise.
Don sat across from him like this was a private club rather than a grave waiting to be filled. He was too calm, swirling his drink like time was on his side. That smug certainty on his face made it clear he still thought power protected him.
I moved around to the back, ready to jimmy the lock, but the door opened. Their confidence was laughable. I crept inside, watched from the shadows, and let them talk themselves into hell.
“We got him boxed in, Zeke,” Don said, voice slow and assured. “Tonight ends this.”
Zeke laughed, but it was broken and empty. The sound of a man cracking from the inside. “He took everything from me,” he said. “Lord, forgive me, but he deserves to die.”
“Men like us do not accept losses. We correct them. Princess will be back where she belongs,” Don continued. “And Nyce will be a headline by morning.”
I stepped forward; the floor creaked. Zeke’s head snapped up at the sound. “Did you hear that?” he whispered. Don shook his head and dismissed him with a wave.
I moved again, and the instant Zeke saw me, his knees buckled. He collapsed, scrambling backward on his hands like a cornered animal. Don finally rose from his seat, his confident expression shifting into one of calculation.
“You muthafuckas really thought you won,” I said calmly. My voice carried without effort.
Zeke shook so hard his glass shattered on the floor. “N-N-Nyce, l-l-listen,” he stammered. “We-we can talk about this.”
“There ain’t shit left to talk about,” I said. “I should’ve been handled this the only way I know how after the first hit on my life. Then, you niggas got bold and actually hired someone not even knowing he’s on my fucking payroll.”
“Fuck,” Don groaned, dropping his head into his hand.
I took one step closer. “You think consequences scare me, and that’s where you fucked up,” I said. “You thought you were smarter than me.”
Don stepped forward. “Think carefully,” he said. “You kill us, you prove every story about you right.”
“Fuck you and those stories.” I shot him. One clean shot to the chest. He dropped immediately, collapsing with a scream and a thud. Next, I aimed my gun at Zeke. “You next,” I said.
“You don’t have to do this,” he cried, snot running from his nose as he held his hands up.
“Yes,” I said. “I do.” I shot him twice in each leg and once in each arm. I watched as he screamed and crawled to get away before moving toward him, kicking him.
He rolled onto his stomach, gasping and crying. “Nyce, please. Princess… will never forgive you.”
I started to say something when I heard a gunshot from behind me and felt a burning sensation on my side.
Pain tore through me sharp and immediate, white hot and unforgiving.
I stumbled forward, my vision flashing bright for half a second before the world steadied again.
I turned slowly to see Don holding a pistol, barely alive yet smiling.
“I got you, muthafucka.” His voice was ragged.
Blood seeped through my hoodie as I walked back toward him, footsteps heavy with pain. I stopped beside him, towering over his body. “You didn’t get shit. And this development deal is still happening.” I lifted my gun, jaw clenched, and said, “Rest in hell, nigga.”
I shot him three times in the face. This time, I was sure his ass wouldn’t move.
The room went quiet except for my breathing and the blood running warm down my side.
I dropped to the floor, grunting through the pain as I reached for my phone.
Once the call connected, I managed to get out, “I’m hit. ”
A few moments later, I felt Belvin reaching for me. “Nyles!” His voice was faint, like he was yelling underwater.
Next thing I knew, Crook, Pointer, and a few other niggas came rushing in ready to get to work.
My breath came out ragged as I clutched my side, the warmth of the blood leaking through my fingers like punishment.
My vision blurred at the edges, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through it.
I wasn’t about to drop here. Not in front of my team.
Belvin carried me to the Rolls and helped me into the backseat. “You need a fucking hospital, man! Fuck!”
I chuckled, breathless. “I’m still the last muthafucka standing, ain’t I?
” As we pulled off, I leaned back, letting the leather soak up my blood.
My mind was fogging, but I was still alert enough to know I had to make one more move before I faded.
“Call Princess,” I rasped, throat feeling like glass. “Right fucking now.”
Belvin didn’t ask questions. He just pulled out his phone and dialed. It rang twice, and then I heard her soft, ass voice. “Hello?”
That one word almost stopped my heart more than any bullet could. Belvin handed me the phone with hands that shook. I pressed it to my ear, feeling my heart pound against bruised ribs. “It’s done,” I breathed, my voice raw. “It’s fucking over.”
She gasped. “Nyce…” Her voice cracked, just like my ribs probably had. “Are you okay?”
I swallowed against the copper flooding my tongue. Half-dead in the backseat, my body screamed for rest, but I wouldn’t let her hear that. “I’m straight,” I lied, voice raw. “I’ll see you soon.” The hope in my words tasted bitter.
“You better,” she whispered. “Promise me.”
I closed my eyes, picturing her face. “I got you.” I ended the call. “Get me to Dr. Nohmen.”
Like we traveled through a teleportation machine, Belvin pulled up to the back of a building on the outskirts of the city in no time.
It looked like nothing, but inside was the only man I trusted to keep me breathing when shit hit the fan.
Fading in and out, I heard Belvin throw the SUV in park and jumped out.
A few moments later, I felt hands grabbing me.
“Never thought I’d see you back here, Mr. Richards,” Dr. Nohmen muttered when I was carried inside. “Lay his stubborn ass down before he bleeds out all over my floor.”
Belvin and the staff dropped me onto the cold metal table. The overhead light hit me square in the eyes. I blinked up at it, breathing shallow. He pulled on gloves, cut off my shirt, and poked around the wound. I hissed through clenched teeth.
“You ever think about slowing down?” Dr. Nohmen asked, grabbing a scalpel. “Quitting before you wind up a chalk outline?”
“Every now and then,” I muttered, jaw locked.
“And?” I didn’t answer right away. The silence just sat heavy in the room. He pressed into the wound again, pulling me back into the moment. “Damn, Nyce,” he muttered. “This bullet’s deep.”
I winced. “Yeah, well… that’s what I pay you for. Get it… the fuck out.”
As the pain started to drown in darkness, my mind went where it always did lately…
Princess. She made me feel like more than a monster.
And maybe for once, that was enough to want something a little different.
Move a little different. Feel a little different.
The light above me blurred, and my eyes fluttered.
“Yeah…” I whispered, voice barely a breath. “Maybe I finally got a reason to slow the fuck down.” Then, I blacked out.