Chapter 2 #2
No bravado. No explanation.
I felt something shift then. My dick was hardening in my jeans, and the realization that Kenya was gonna be a problem, but Lil Mama was about to be my fuckin’ problem.
“You ain’t scared of what this costs,” I said.
“I am,” she replied. “That’s why I plan.”
Xavier stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time.
“You really think you can build something bigger than what we already got?” he asked.
She turned to him.
“I think what you have is fragile,” she said gently. “And I think you deserve something sturdier, and I want to be a part of that. I don’t need to be the face. No one but y’all needs to know I’m involved. I would prefer to just be an engineer. ”
That gentleness almost threw me.
Almost.
“You talking about building?” I said. “But you ain’t said what happens when somebody tests us.”
Her gaze slid back to mine.
“Then you do what you do best,” she said. “And I make sure the fallout doesn’t touch the innocent.”
“Innocent?” I echoed.
She didn’t answer right away.
“My sister,” she said finally. “People like her don’t get second chances.”
Something cold settled in my chest.
Family.
That was the real currency, and I knew if she ever fuckin’ crossed me I would start by hurting her sister.
I nodded once. Slow.
“That fuck ass Nigga, Martin?” I said. “I’ll handle it.”
She inclined her head. “Good.”
“And if I find out you wrong?” I added.
She met my stare, unblinking.
“Then I accept the consequences.”
When we stood to leave, the balance between us had changed.
Not because she’d overpowered me but because she’d earned her place.
I paid the bill. Xavier slapped the table once, still buzzing.
“You wild,” he said to her. “But I fuck with it.”
She gave him a small smile. “You’ll learn. Oh, and Xavier?”
“Yes,” he smiled. “Stay away from my fuckin’ sister.”
He smiled brightly. “No worries, Kenya, I got plenty of other hoes to play with.”
I stepped close to Kenya before we parted.
“You step wrong,” I said quietly, “and I won’t hesitate to kill yo ass.”
She looked up at me, calm as ever.
“I wouldn’t respect you if you did.”
I watched her walk away, my mind already recalculating everything I thought I knew.
Because ambition had always driven me.
But control?
Control was something you had to build with the right people.
And whether I liked it or not, Kenya was becoming one of them.
The runner was twenty years old. Skinny. Loud when he drank. Always needed reassurance. I’d clocked him as a weak link months ago, but kept him around because he moved fast and didn’t ask about percentages.
That was on me.
I called him fifteen minutes after leaving the deli.
“Where you at?” I asked.
“At my girl’s crib,” he said. Too quick. Too eager. “What’s up?”
“Pull up,” I said. “Now.”
He hesitated.
“Zay, I’m—”
“Now,” I repeated. Calm.
Then, “Aight. Bet.”
I hung up and drove.
We met at the warehouse off Carson. It was empty and quiet during the day. Xavier was already there, leaning against my car, arms folded.
“You sure?” he asked.
I nodded. “I got it, you just arrange cleanup.”
He didn’t argue.
That told me he was learning.
Martin pulled up twenty minutes late.
He stepped out smiling too widely, hands moving too much.
“What’s good, Z?” he said. “You good?”
I watched him approach, noted the way his eyes darted. The sweat at his temples even though it wasn’t hot.
“You nervous?” I asked.
He laughed. “Nah.”
“Then why are you shaking?”
His smile faltered.
“You've been talking,” I said.
He blinked. “Talking?”
“To people you don’t need to be talking to.”
“That’s crazy,” he said quickly. “I don’t talk.”
This Nigga was still lying.
I moved fast.
I grabbed him by the collar, slammed him against the metal wall hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs. He gasped, eyes wide, fear finally honest.
“I don’t need you to lie,” I said quietly. “I need you to understand.”
Xavier shifted behind me. Said nothing.
“I ain’t said nothing to nobody,” Martin choked.
I let him drop.
He slid down the wall, coughing, hands up.
“I swear, Z—”
I crouched in front of him, eye level now.
“You want out?” I asked.
He nodded frantically. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m done. I’ll leave town.”
I studied him.
“You really done?” I pressed.
“Yes,” he whispered.
I believed him. But there was only one way out of my crew.
I started by breaking his fingers.
He made sharp animal sounds. I took my time with it. I fuckin hated snitches. Let him feel every mistake individually. Let each lie cost him something small before I took anything big.
“Please,” he kept saying. “Z—please.”
I hated when Niggas begged using familiarity. Like the name alone was supposed to soften what they’d already fucked up.
“You talked,” I said calmly.
“No,” he sobbed. “I swear—”
I pressed harder.
Bone gave way with a sound like snapping chalk.
He screamed.
Xavier stood a few feet back, arms crossed, face pale but steady. He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t look away either. I noticed that. He was learning whether he wanted this life or just its benefits.
Martin slid halfway out of the chair, piss soaking through his jeans, breath hitching in ugly little gasps.
“You know what hurts the most?” I asked him. “It ain’t the pain.”
He shook his head violently.
“It’s knowing you had a chance to shut the fuck up.”
I crouched so we were eye level.
“You didn’t even have to talk,” I continued.
He sobbed harder. “Please, I’ll leave,” he said. “I’ll disappear. I’ll go anywhere.”
I smiled.
That was the problem.
People thought distance fixed betrayal.
Distance just gave it time.
I stood, wiped my hands on my jeans, and nodded once.
Xavier stiffened. He knew what that meant.
I pulled the gun slowly. No rush. I enjoyed theatrics for disloyal motherfuckas.
Martin saw it and lost whatever dignity he had left.
“No—no—no—”
I put one shot through his knee first.
His scream echoed off the warehouse walls, raw and ragged. He tried to crawl. Tried to drag himself somewhere safer, as if safety still existed for him.
I walked up behind him.
“You see,” I said quietly, “if I let you live, you become a question.”
I pressed the barrel to the back of his head.
“And I don’t leave questions unanswered.”
The shot was loud.
Martin collapsed forward, face-first into the concrete.
Dead weight.
Xavier exhaled behind me. Baby bro wasn’t shaky, but that sigh was heavy. He still lacked the stomach for this life.
I stood there for a second longer than necessary, listening to the silence settle back into place.
Then I turned.
“You good?” I asked him.
He nodded once.
“Yeah,” he said. “I just didn’t realize how fast it could end.”
I looked down at the body.
“It doesn’t end fast,” I said. “It ends decisively.”
He swallowed, eyes still on Martin.
“That girl,” he said after a beat. “She knew this was how you’d handle it.”
“Yes,” I replied.
“That shit is crazy.” He shook his head.
I shook my head.
“No,” I said. “Her decisiveness is necessary.”
Later that night, I sat in my room with the lights off, gun cleaned and back in its place, Martin already becoming a memory nobody would ask about twice.
I picked up my phone.
KingZay111: It’s done.
HotGirlYaYa: Good.
I leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling, feeling something settle into place that I hadn’t known was loose before.
She hadn’t asked how.
She hadn’t asked who.
She already knew.
That’s when it clicked.
Kenya didn’t romanticize violence.
She accounted for it.
And expectations like that were heavier than respect. Heavier than fear.
I thought about Xavier about the way he’d watched, quiet and absorbing. How much longer could I keep him clean? About how fast this life ate the unprepared and rewarded the decisive.
Kenya had called what we built fragile.
She wasn’t wrong.
Not weak.
Not stupid.
Just exposed.
I didn’t like being exposed.
I wanted something sturdier.
Something that didn’t depend on reputation or luck.
Something that lasted even when people started watching more closely.
And whether I liked it or not, Kenya was already building that structure.