Chapter 2
Damari “Domino” Ross
The room was quiet in the way only dangerous places ever were. There was no ticking clock, no music, and no distractions; just concrete walls, a single metal chair bolted to the floor, and the low hum of electricity overhead.
My boss, Alejandro, stood in front of one of our old mules like a priest preparing to deliver last rites.
His hands were clasped firmly behind his back, posture relaxed to an unsettling degree, radiating a calm that made men fold under pressure and caused women to beg for mercy.
I lingered by the door, arms crossed tightly over my chest, watching and listening, silent as always.
I was trained to observe first and strike later.
In my hometown and on bank statements, I was known as Damari Ross, but in places like that, I was simply Domino—Alejandro’s underboss, his enforcer, and the reliable Mr. Fix-It when shit got ugly.
Iya sat trembling in the chair, her wrists bound tightly with zip ties, mascara streaked down her cheeks, her wide eyes darting back and forth between me and Alejandro, filled with desperation.
“What’s going on?! Can one of you just please tell me why I’m here?! Like this!” she demanded, yanking her bound wrists in a futile attempt to free herself.
Alejandro’s voice was smooth and calculated as he asked, “Iya, you know what disappoints me the most?"
He paused, letting the tension build.
“I trusted you. And I don’t give jobs to people I don’t believe in.”
I knew she was fucked up the moment Alejandro didn’t raise his voice. That calm meant he’d already decided that she was gonna die.
Iya shook her head frantically, her lips quivering like leaves in a gust of wind. “I believed in this! I did everything right!”
Alejandro halted his movement, taking a deliberate step closer to her, eyes narrowing.
“Everything right?”
He then reached into the breast pocket of his tailored jacket, pulled out a thin, manila folder, and tossed it casually onto the table beside her.
Photos spilled out, scattering across the surface, ranging from blurry surveillance shots bearing timestamps to her face appearing in places we’d never sent her.
“So you call meeting with people I’ve never authorized right? You answering questions you were never supposed to hear right?” Alejandro mocked, circling her like a shark.
Iya couldn’t look at the photos. Instead, she stared up at him, wide-eyed and frightened, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Iya, you were seen, recorded, and confirmed,” Alejandro made known. “You were feeding information slowly… and carelessly. I’ll tell you one thing you did do wrong. You forgot who you worked for.”
“Please, Alejandro! You don’t understand! I was scared!” she pleaded. “That case from three years ago came back up! They threatened me! They said they’d lock me up for ten years and take my kids!”
You learn a lot about a person right before they die. Some cry, some pray, and some run their mouths, thinking they can talk their way out of anything.
“You should’ve come to me,” Alejandro said, his tone unchanging.
“I was going to!” she cried, her tears coming harder now, desperation leaking from every pore.
Alejandro scoffed. “You were going to? When, Iya? After they flipped on you? Or you flipped on us? Iya, when I met you, you were nothing but a homeless, hungry, and pathetic stray. I gave you a car, a house, and a lane. I put money in your pockets. And I did all of that before I even knew you had true potential. And you had it… until you got sloppy.”
“I didn’t give them anything real! I kept them going in circles with lies! I did it for—” she paused, eyes cutting toward me.
Don’t. You. Fuckin’. Say. It.
I didn’t say it out loud, but one twitch of my eyebrow, and one slow tilt of my head was all the confirmation she needed. Iya swallowed that sentence like poison.
See, Iya wasn’t just a mule; she was also a chick I’d been fucking.
Not on no romantic tip. Hell nah. It was physical, convenient, and forgettable.
But that damn pause changed everything, because now Alejandro was watching me, too.
“You did it for what, Iya? Or who?” he questioned coolly, eyes shifting between the two of us.
“I did it for my kids.”
Smart girl.
I shifted my weight and crossed my arms tighter, staying stone-cold.
“Iya, you were an exceptional mule—hell, one of the best in the business, if I’m being completely honest—but you were also a very stupid one. And now, because of the reckless decisions you made, you’re not just about to lose your kids, you’re about to lose your life.”
I watched the realization wash over Iya, breaking her down piece by piece. Her sobs turned into heaves, each breath a struggle as she fought against the words caught in her throat. But words don’t work when a man like Alejandro has already made up his mind.
“Boss, please!”
Alejandro held up a finger, silencing her.
Iya shut the fuck up immediately.
That’s the thing about power… when you really got it, you don’t gotta shout. One look, one gesture, and the room listens.
Alejandro pivoted toward me. “Handle her, clean yourself up, then come see me.”
That’s how orders were delivered in our world. I allowed him to speak, and he trusted me to finish what he started.
“Yes, sir,” I replied smoothly.
The door closed behind him, and the lock clicked.
Iya looked at me like I was her last chance for salvation, fully aware that the devil was about to collect his due.
“Domino, please!” she practically begged, her voice crackling like a broken record. “Please don’t do this!”
I said nothing, as I methodically loaded my Glock.
Click. Clack.
That sound alone had her breaking.
“Say something, dammit!” she yelled, panic rising in her throat.
I exhaled slowly and walked closer. “What you want me to say?”
“At least try to hear me out and get a better understanding of why I did what I did!”
“You already explained. And if your reason wasn’t good enough for him, what the hell makes you think it’s gon’ fly with me?"
"Because… I thought we had something. I thought you’d understand."
"Nah. You thought wrong. We fucked… that’s it. That don’t mean we soul-bound.”
Her eyes welled up instantly. “W-What? You told me you weren’t like the rest of them.”
“I’m not… I’m worse.” I shrugged, insensitive to her feelings.
Iya shook her head violently. “You lied! You told me—”
“Iya, I told you what was needed to keep you quiet, and it worked… until Boss squeezed every drop of work he could get outta you.”
Her face crumpled, a mixture of confusion and pain washing over her. “What? He… he used me?”
I crouched beside Iya. My face was mere inches from her; close enough for her to feel the danger radiating from me.
“We did. I was the first one to find out you was working with the FEDs. The streets talk, Iya. And when I heard that shit, I wanted to kill you that same night… but Boss had a better idea. He ordered me to keep you close… dangerously close. What he didn’t know was that I was fucking you.
That was my little add-on. You thought what we had was real?
Nah. It was surveillance with a nut attached. ”
Her mouth trembled at that revelation. “So this whole time, you… you never cared.”
“No,” I kept it real.
She screamed through her tears. “Motherfucka! I kept quiet because of you! I risked my freedom—my life—for you! I protected him because of you! I could’ve ruined everything!”
“You risked it anyway,” I shot back. “And you didn’t protect nobody but yourself. You were scared, and scared people talk.”
“I didn’t, though! So that has to mean something!”
“It don’t,” I shut down. “Boss doesn’t punish what happened; he punishes what could’ve.”
Iya thrashed, trying to wiggle free from the cuffs. “I should’ve never trusted you!”
“No, you shouldn’t have. Sorry, you thought I’d protect you or that this dick came with a safety net.”
Iya stared at me, broken. “But I loved you! Can’t you see that?” she whimpered.
Then I said the coldest shit I’ve ever said in my life. “And I loved what yo’ mouth could do. That don’t make it mutual.”
“You’re heartless.”
“No, I’m loyal,” I corrected, moving to position myself behind her. “Just know, this ain’t personal, it’s business.”
“Dominooooooo!”
Iya’s scream tore through the room right before I pulled the trigger. One clean shot to the back of her head sent her to her maker. She slumped forward like a rag doll, still cuffed to the chair. Blood trickled down her back, dark and slow.
I stood over her body, watching the last breath of a traitor slip out. Then I peeled off my bloody shirt, tossed it in the bin, and stepped out.
“Clean this shit up,” I instructed the men at the door. “And burn everything. I don’t want a trace left.”
As I headed to the shower, I reminded myself:
You don’t love where you work, you don’t fuck where you eat, and you never forget who the King is.
Twenty minutes later, I was dressed in all black, my shoulders dry, and my mind clear. Blood washed down the drain, but guilt never made it to the surface. My path wasn’t for the softhearted; it was for killers like me who slept easy.
When I stepped into Alejandro’s office, he was on the phone. He didn’t ask if the job was done; he just waved me in like he already knew. The call ended shortly.
Before speaking, he clicked a drawer open, pulled out one of his infamous Cuban cigars, lit it up slow, leaned back, then said, “Damari.”
Whenever he used my government name, I knew we weren’t about to just talk business; that conversation would lean toward foundation, legacy, or strategy.
“Yes, sir.”
Alejandro looked at me with no smile, just that unreadable calm he wore when he was about to drop something deep.
“If you never remember anything else I tell you, remember this…”
He took a slow drag, then pointed the cigar like it was a damn sword.