Clark
Killing Cynthia should have been where I stopped and left, but I just couldn’t walk away from everything I knew.
Seeing the Tyrant, knowing he was in my space and threatening me, was only the beginning of something he would regret later.
It didn’t matter how it ended between him and me because his time was coming, whether by me or other means.
His audacity to try to run me out of my home like I was some sort of sucker was appalling.
That was the problem; he held no respect for me.
Okay, so I left him, but he was alive. He was lucky I even built enough gumption to apologize, and with that, he pissed it away.
I knew the day Grace spit him out and I held him in my arms that there would be no love between us.
His eyes were empty as if he was born with no soul.
He was right about one thing: he wasn’t a Mercier because the way he moved wasn’t of my kind.
I stepped further into my office and glanced around to see if the Tyrant had stolen anything.
Everything was still in place. I calmly sat, ready to make a phone call, but I spotted a note on my desk.
I picked it up to get a better look, and the words on it made me swallow deeply.
Even massa best nigga gets lynched. You’re dead, gramps.
It was time to call for reinforcement. Just as I began to dial, the sound of an explosion sent me flying to the floor.
“What in the hell?”
I crawled toward the door to see flames beyond it. I slowly stood and opened the door to see that one of my cars had been blown to pieces. Right then, I knew I needed to play smart or not at all.