WINSTON
The pain in my leg was a dull, persistent throb that radiated up through my hip and settled deep in my lower back. Manageable, but present. A reminder that I wasn’t invincible—though I’d never admit that out loud.
I lay propped against the headboard, my leg elevated on two pillows, wrapped tight in gauze and compression bandages. The doctor had done his work quickly and efficiently, as always. No questions. No records. Just stitches, antibiotics, and instructions I had no intention of following completely.
Odette moved through the bedroom like a storm contained in human form.
She brought ice. Set it down hard on the nightstand.
She brought water. Slammed the glass next to the ice.
She checked the bandages with sharp, precise movements—her hands clinical but her energy anything but calm.
I watched her, saying nothing.
Because I knew what was coming.
“You’re lucky it went straight through,” she said finally, her voice tight. “A few inches to the left, and you’d be dead.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” She straightened, her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing. “You got shot, Winston. Again. And for what? Because you trusted the wrong man? Because you couldn’t see Victor for what he was?”
I exhaled slowly, keeping my expression neutral. “Odette—”
“Don’t Odette me.” Her voice rose, sharp and cutting. “I’m tired, Winston. I’m so damn tired of you putting our boys in the middle of your shit.”
“Our boys are grown men—”
“They’re my boys!” she snapped, stepping closer. “Not some boys. Not soldiers. Not pawns in your empire. My boys. The ones I carried. The ones I breastfed. The ones I raised while you were out here building your kingdom.”
I gritted my teeth, the pain in my leg flaring as I shifted slightly. “You knew what this was when you married me.”
“I knew you were in the game,” Odette said, her voice shaking now. “I knew there would be risks. But I didn’t sign up to watch you treat them like they’re disposable. Like their lives don’t matter as long as the family stays on top.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it?” She crossed her arms, her eyes boring into mine. “You shot Amai in the leg to prove a point. You had Priest locked up to control your son. You brought Victor into this house—into our home—and now he’s working with the man who killed Elias and Silas.”
The mention of the twins hit like a punch to the gut, but I didn’t let it show.
“I’m handling it,” I said evenly.
“You’re handling it?” Odette’s laugh was bitter, humorless. “You’re not handling anything, Winston. You’re making it worse. And one of these days, I’m going to wake up, and one of my boys is going to be dead because you couldn’t let go of your pride.”
“Odette—”
“I’m getting real tired of your shit,” she said, “Real tired.”
Before I could respond, the door opened.
Amai stepped inside, his presence filling the room immediately.
Odette’s mouth snapped shut, her eyes flicking to our son and then back to me. The tension between us was thick enough to choke on, but neither of us said another word.
Amai looked between us, his expression unreadable. “Am I interrupting?”
“No,” I said, my voice firm. Authoritative. “Come in.”
Odette turned away, busying herself with straightening the already-straight items on the dresser. But I could feel her anger radiating off her in waves.
Amai stepped closer to the bed, his hands in his pockets, his jaw tight. “I want to know the plan before I go talk to Yaya.”
I shifted slightly, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through my leg. “The plan is based on what you can get out of her. She knows something. Victor wouldn’t have kept her around this long if she didn’t.”
“That’s not a plan,” Amai said flatly. “That’s a guess.”
“Then make it a good guess.” I met his eyes, refusing to back down. “Where’s Priest?”
Amai’s expression darkened. “You know where he is. He’s securing the rest of our shit so nothing else comes up missing.”
“You’ve been so busy running to lay with that bitch, I wasn’t sure if you’d even noticed we in the middle of a fucking war.”
The words hung in the air for half a second.
And then Amai moved.
He crossed the room in two strides, and his fist connected with my jaw before I could react.
Pain exploded through my face, sharp and immediate, and I tasted blood.
“Amai!” Odette’s voice cut through the room like a whip. “Stop!”
Amai froze, his fist still clenched, his chest heaving. But he stopped.
Because it was his mother.
I worked my jaw, feeling the ache settle deep in the bone, and looked up at my son.
His eyes were wild. Furious. Barely controlled.
“You a sorry excuse for a daddy, nigga. You old, bitter, and clinging to power by the skin on your teeth. If you weren’t my daddy, I would’ve been slimed your ass out. You’ll never get close to my kids.”
“If they even your kids with your low sperm count producing ass. Those twins probably Kaisen’s because God hate your ass.”
The room went silent.
I felt Odette’s eyes on me, sharp and accusing.
Amai rushed toward me again, but his mama got between us. “Amai, that’s still your daddy.”
“That nigga ain’t shit to me. That’s why I call him Winston.
He ain’t never been a father. Just a judge and executioner.
When I end this shit, yeah, me, nigga, I’m done with you.
I’m running this shit the way I see fit, and I dare you to try and stop me.
The same monster you created will become your worst nightmare.
I’ll terrorize you until the day you take your last breath.
Stop speaking on my fucking woman and kids before I put Mama in that black dress to mourn your bitch ass. ”
I didn’t bother responding because I only said that shit to deflect the attention from my allowing a snake to infiltrate my family.
Odette had one request, and it was that the shit I did in the streets could never touch our home.
They made me break the only thing I’d been able to give her over the years that was worth a damn.
Because what the fuck was I supposed to say?
That I’d been played? That I’d trusted Victor because I thought I could control him? That I’d underestimated the depth of his hatred and his willingness to destroy everything I’d built?
My silence was answer enough.
Odette’s hand moved so fast I didn’t see it coming.
The slap echoed through the room, sharp and deafening.
My head snapped to the side, my cheek burning, and I tasted blood again—this time from the inside of my mouth.
“One of these days,” Odette said, her voice shaking with rage, “I’m going to kill your ass for going too far.”
She turned and stormed out of the room, her footsteps heavy and deliberate. I heard her voice echo down the hallway.
“One of these days!”
The door slammed behind her.
I sat there, my jaw aching, my leg throbbing, my pride shattered, and stared at the empty doorway.
Amai stood beside the bed, his fists still clenched, his breathing still ragged.
“You done?” I asked quietly.
He didn’t answer.
He just turned and walked out.
And I was left alone in the wreckage of my own making.
I once stood as a giant in this family. Respected, feared, and honored if for no other reason than that I was feared. In a single day, my wife and oldest son had put hands on me. Something that would’ve gotten them killed under different circumstances, but the reality was, I’d fucked up.
Hell, Kaisen might as well come get his shit off his chest, too, while we’re at it. Let’s get this shit over with. I knew his whining ass would be over before the day ended once he found out Amai was divorced and free to be with that bitch who ruined my family.
Before Truth came into our lives, Amai was focused, obedient, loyal to the empire. I can’t remember the last time he checked on his jewelry store or even showed his face at Landry Enterprises.
He’s consumed with having this family. Lying to himself that he could have a normal life. One day, Amai will realize I wasn’t the monster he thought I was.
Love always comes with a price, and the debt must be paid.
There’s no such thing as happily ever after in this life.
He won’t ride off into the sunset with everything he wants.
He will lose something. It may not be today.
Maybe not tomorrow. But soon he will see that once you love something, the world has a hostage.