Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
SETH
“Yo.”
Rich’s voice hit the line the second the phone rang, like he’d been waiting for me to make this call.
“Dre started war… and left his mama wide open.” My voice was cold, flat. No emotion, just facts. The gates to my estate creaked open as I pulled off, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence. But inside me there was nothing soft. Just fire.
Stormi and Shiloh had been home for a few weeks now. After weeks in that cold-ass hospital, I finally had my wife in our bed, skin to skin, peace in my arms, our baby boy curled up like he ain’t know the world tried to take his mother from us.
And that, that was the only reason Dre was still breathing.
But I’d let him breathe long enough. He made his move.
He knew exactly what he was doing coming for me by going after the only thing I’d die for without hesitation.
He touched my world, and now I was about to burn his to the fucking ground.
I should’ve shot him that night. Should’ve buried him next to the mistakes he made. But I chose my family first. I chose Stormi’s tears and Shiloh’s first breath over revenge. Now I was choosing balance.
“I woke up today knowing it was gon’ be a fun day,” Rich said, that sick little smile dancing on his words. He was always ready to get dirty; he never needed a reason. Just a green light.
“Let’s have some, then. Meet me at the warehouse. Got a shipment coming in.”
I hung up without another word, screen flashing back to my wallpaper of Stormi, S3, and Shiloh all laid out in our bed the night before.
Knocked out, safe, and home. That image grounded me.
It also fueled me. They were the only things that kept me human.
The only thing that stopped me from turning into the exact monster Dre thought I’d never become.
But let’s be real, I’d been him before. And I could go back there in a second.
I gripped the wheel tighter, veins pulsing with memory of the bodies, the blood, the weight of running an empire nigga thought they wanted until they saw what it cost.
The ride to the warehouse was silent, but my mind was loud as hell. Every second I thought about Dre was a second closer to him not breathing. He thought he could step into my world and rewrite the rules. Thought he could touch what was mine and walk away whole.
Nah., He forgot who I was. He forgot who he was dealing with.
This wasn’t about street politics anymore.
This wasn’t about turf or money or name.
This was personal. He’d brought it to my doorstep.
Brought it to my wife’s body, to my son’s first moments in this world. And now, now I was bringing it to his.
“Half a million on a tractor trailer,” Southside said the minute I hopped out the truck, and my boots hit the pavement.
I walked toward him, already sizing up the scene. Workers were moving like clockwork unloading, breaking down, bagging up, stacking to go back out. Smooth, no hiccups, and no dead weight. Exactly how I liked it.
Southside and I dapped up, shoulder bump heavy like we’d both been through too much this week already. Before I could even speak, he beat me to it.
“How’s my godson?”
I turned toward him with a proud daddy smile, about to speak, when I heard that familiar voice from behind.
“Shit, nigga, when you get a godson?” Rich strolled in from the back like he owned the place, grinning like trouble.
“Here this nigga go,” Southside said, laughing as they dapped up too.
“Tell this man Shiloh’s good,” Rich said, looking at me. “Jit thinks 4 a.m. is 4 p.m. but we alive.”
I smirked, letting the sound of their banter roll off me for a second. It felt good, for once, to be surrounded by people who got it. Family wasn’t just blood, it was who showed up, who stayed, who stood in the fire with you.
When Stormi and Shiloh came back home, Rich moved right back in without a word.
One thing about my brother, my family, was his family.
Late night feedings, dropping S3 off at school, running errands, or laying a nigga out for breathing wrong near Stormi, Rich didn’t blink.
I never had to ask. Never had to question.
One day, I’d repay that kind of loyalty.
One day, I’d get the chance to show up for him the way he did for me.
But today. Today I had a different mission.
“Business looks good,” I said, eyes still scanning the operation. “But I got a visit to make. Dre’s mama. So, I’m out.”
Southside didn’t even hesitate. “Shit, nigga. I’m out with you.”
We all headed for the doors together; me, Southside, and Rich the city heat hitting us like pressure as we stepped out. But I didn’t feel it.
I was already burning from the inside.
I was ready to start purging. Shut down the entire city if I had to. Burn every corner, check every alley, shake every soul connected to Dre until I pulled him out of whatever hole he thought was safe.
He thought he was hidden but Dre made a mistake. He forgot blood always leaves a trail.
He was Ronnie’s son, something nobody knew.
Ronnie kept that buried like it was gold.
But when Stormi said Dre was Leon’s nephew.
That opened the door. I traced the name, found Leon’s sister, and from there everything else unraveled like a bad lie.
She went to the police and made trouble.
Thinking they would protect her and her son when it took me less than 24 hours of being in that police station to learn everything about her.
He wanted his nephew safe. He should’ve kept that information to himself.
She wanted her son alive, but they both played a dangerous game.
And now they led us straight to our quickest leverage.
And I wasn’t just going to knock. I was about to tear the whole door off the hinges.
“Sharon Willis. 470 Manning Lane.”
I repeated the name and address out loud as we turned the corner and pulled up to the single-family home.
The neighborhood was quiet. It was just past seven.
Streetlights were already glowing. No kids or neighbors outside.
Two cars sat in the driveway. One was unfamiliar, probably hers, but the other.
Oh, I knew it too damn well. Black on black Range Rover, custom interior, red calipers, diamond stitched seats.
I bought it. Paid cash and delivered it myself.
“That’s the ol’ girl car,” I said, jaw clenching.
Rich and Southside both caught it too, their eyes flicked to mine, then back to the house. No words were needed. We continued our mission as planned, hopping out the whip and moving, cutting around the side of the house to the back like muscle memory.
I’d already studied the blueprint the second I got the address. I knew where the entrances were, how many exits, where the windows were placed, and how to sweep it clean without waking the neighbors. This was chess, not checkers.
We moved through the kitchen quietly. No creaks in the floorboards, no talking. I had everything under control until I stepped into the living room and saw her.
“Mama?” The word shot out of me like a bullet.
She jumped, so did Sharron.
“Seth,” my mama said, standing slowly. “What are you doing here?”
I stared at her. My voice dropped low, but it still carried weight. “Better question, what are you doing here?”
She didn’t back down. She never did. She looked me straight in my eyes like she wasn’t standing in the middle of enemy territory.
“The killing has to stop, Seth.” She glanced toward Sharron, who sat shaking on the edge of the sofa like she’d just seen her last sunset.
“She can’t pay for her son’s mistakes. I know why you’re here.”
I blinked, but inside, I was fuming.
I could feel Rich and Southside behind me. They were alert and ready but confused as hell. I didn’t say a word. My mind was racing.
I was outside in the damn garden when I confirmed Sharron’s information.
Mama was pruning her roses, humming like she always did when she was out there.
I didn’t think she was even listening. And I damn sure didn’t think she’d act on it.
She was supposed to be at home. Her car was parked.
She was there when I left. So how the hell did she slip past my people?
How did she beat me here? And more importantly, why?
I clenched my jaw, eyes never left hers.
“You shouldn’t be here, Mama.”
Her voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp. “And neither should you. Let this go, Seth. Enough blood has been spilled.”
I looked at Sharron with tears running down her face, hands shaking, whole body frozen like she already knew I wasn’t here to talk.
I turned back to my mama. “You risked your life to save hers?”
“No,” she said quietly. “I risked my life to save yours.”
That hit different but I didn’t respond. I couldn’t because the rage was too loud and the betrayal was too fresh. I didn’t know if I was more pissed at Dre… or at the woman who raised me.
I reached for my mama’s hand. She didn’t belong in that living room. Not with what was about to go down. This ain’t a conversation for her ears. I led her to the back room, shut the door behind us, and tried to breathe. I tried but every breath I took burned in my chest...
“Ma, I’m gonna have Southside take you home,” I said, jaw clenched tight, hands balling into fists behind my back. “I need you safe. I need you outta here.”
She looked at me like she was still seeing her baby boy. But that boy died a long time ago.
“I wouldn’t have to hide out if you’d just end this, Seth.”
I blinked once, closing my eyes tight and opening them back up to look at her again. “That’s what I’m doing.”
“By continuing the killing?” she asked, voice tight with fear.
I didn’t answer. What the hell could I say? That I should show mercy to the man who tried to put my wife in a casket? Should I forgive a bullet aimed at the mother of my son?
“I didn’t raise you like this, Seth.”
I looked her in the eyes. My pain met hers. “You didn’t.”