32. Dream Granger
DREAM GRANGER
Days after my father was killed, I stood at the head of the table and looked at the men who had spent years answering to my father.
The top members of the Granger outfit filled the room, along with the men who bought weight from us and distributed it throughout the city.
Most of them had known me since I was a child.
They still expected me to sit quietly while they decided what happened next.
That wasn’t happening anymore.
“My father is dead,” I announced.
Voices erupted around the table.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Who got to Roman?”
“When did this happen?”
I lifted my hand, and the questions gradually stopped. “He died because he murdered Donovan.”
Several men stared at me in disbelief. Others glanced at each another, waiting for somebody to laugh and tell them I’d lost my mind.
Cedric sat three chairs down from me. He kept his eyes on the table.
One of my father’s captains leaned forward. “Who told you that?”
“I saw the proof with my own eyes.”
“What proof?”
“Audio recordings, messages, cell phone and vehicle records.” I looked around the room. “And the woman who watched him do it told my mother exactly what happened.”
Nobody spoke because they were all in pure disbelief.
“My father accused Donovan of positioning himself to take over before his time. Then he shot his own son and dumped his body in the lake.”
A few men cursed beneath their breath.
I refused to let my voice crack with any weakness. I’d already cried until my face hurt. I couldn’t fall apart in front of these men.
“I’m taking over the Granger outfit.”
One of the older men frowned. “Promise—”
I interrupted him, “Choose your next words carefully.”
He kept his mouth closed.
I placed both palms on the table. “Let me make this clear: I dare any motherfucker in this room to question my authority or try to take my place.”
No one said a word. I saw a few men fail to hide their disdain with this. Others smiled at me proudly.
“The war with the Bellamy crew is over,” I continued. “I met with their boss this morning. I told him the truth about Donovan and my father. We agreed to a truce. We’ve lost enough people fighting a war built on his lie. There won’t be another body dropped over Donovan’s murder.”
Cedric finally raised his head. Sweat covered his forehead despite the cool air in the room.
I looked directly at him. “There is one more thing.”
Staring at him, I pulled my gun from my waist and then everyone froze.
“You knew he killed Donovan,” I seethed at Cedric.
“Your father made the decision. I couldn’t stop him.”
His eyes moved toward the men around him, searching for help that wasn’t coming.
“I can’t trust you,” I told him.
“Promise—”
I fired once, and the bullet struck him in the head. The men on either side of Cedric jerked away from the table. One shoved his chair back so hard it scraped across the floor, while the other threw an arm up to block the blood that sprayed across his shirt. Cedric folded and hit the floor.
I lowered my gun and looked around the table.
My father had killed my brother. That truth had ruined every memory I had of both of them. I didn’t know if I would ever stop hearing Donovan’s voice. But grief couldn’t swallow me. I had an organization to run, enemies watching for weakness, and a mother who had already lost too much.
My father had ruled through fear, lies, and the belief that everybody around him was replaceable.
I would do it differently, and I would do it better.
“Now,” I said, placing the gun on the table, “let’s discuss business.”