AMAI #3
“I said act like it.” I limped forward, ignoring the pain screaming through my leg.
“You want to be the head of this family? Fine. Then take responsibility for your mistakes. Admit you fucked up. Admit you trusted Victor when you shouldn’t have.
Admit that you put all of us in danger because you thought you knew better. ”
“I don’t answer to you—”
“You do now.” My voice was cold. “Because Priest is gone. Because our vault is empty. Because Rahsaan is making moves and we don’t have the resources to stop him. You want to lead? Then lead. But stop pretending you didn’t make a mistake. Stop acting like this isn’t your fault.”
Winston’s jaw worked, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
For a moment, I thought he might actually hit me.
But then he exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging just slightly.
“Victor played me,” he said finally, his voice low. “I thought I could trust him. I thought family meant something.”
“Family does mean something,” Kaisen said quietly. “But Victor’s never been family. Not really. He’s always been out for himself.”
Winston nodded slowly, the admission clearly costing him.
“So what do we do now?” I asked.
Winston looked at me, then at Kaisen, his expression grim.
“We survive,” he said simply. “We pool our resources. We tighten our operations. We make every dollar count. And we find Victor and Rahsaan and we make them pay for what they’ve done.”
I nodded, the rage still simmering but tempered now by something else.
Purpose.
“Then let’s get to work,” I said.
Kaisen met my eyes across the room, and for the first time in weeks, I saw something other than hatred there.
Understanding.
We were both furious at Winston.
We were both terrified of what came next.
But we were also both committed to surviving this.
Together.
Winston moved to his desk and picked up his phone without another word.
The silence in the study was thick as he scrolled through his contacts, his jaw set in that way that meant he’d already made his decision and nothing was going to change it.
He pressed the phone to his ear and waited.
I exchanged a glance with Kaisen. My brother’s face was still tight with anger, but there was something else there now—curiosity, maybe, or calculation.
“Yeah,” Winston said into the phone, his voice clipped and authoritative. “Release him. Now.”
A pause.
“I don’t give a fuck what time it is. Get him out of solitary and take him home. Immediately.”
Another pause, shorter this time.
“Good. I’ll be waiting.”
Winston ended the call and set the phone down on the desk with deliberate care.
“Priest will be home within the hour,” he said, looking between Kaisen and me. “We need him for this war. He’s the only one who can coordinate operations the way we need them coordinated.”
Relief loosened my chest.
Priest was coming back.
“And Yahmaria,” Winston continued, his eyes locking onto mine, “has just become a prisoner of war.”
The words hung in the air for a moment.
Kaisen’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“She’s leverage,” Winston said flatly. “Victor’s daughter. If we have her, we have something he wants. Something he’ll negotiate for.”
The idea of using Yaya as a bargaining chip should’ve bothered me more than it did. But the truth was, after what she’d done at the clinic—blindsiding Truth, revealing the marriage in the cruelest way possible—I didn’t have much sympathy left for her.
“That might be a little complicated,” I said slowly.
Winston’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because she’s fucking Syx.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Kaisen and Winston both stared at me, their expressions identical—shock, disbelief, and then rapidly mounting fury.
“What the fuck?” they said in unison.
I almost laughed at the synchronization, but the situation was too fucked up for humor.
“You heard me,” I said. “Syx and Yahmaria have been fucking around. I caught them not too long ago but I didn’t give a shit at the time. I had bigger problems.”
Kaisen’s face twisted with disgust. “That bitch just don’t care who she gives that lil’ pussy to, does she?”
“Apparently not,” I said.
Winston’s fist drew up like angry stones.
“How long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know. Long enough that Syx thinks he’s in love with her.” I shrugged. “He came to me like a man, told me he wanted to be with her. I told him I didn’t give a fuck.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this?” Winston’s voice was dangerously quiet.
“Like I said—I had bigger problems. Still do.” I met his gaze evenly. “But if you want her as leverage, I’ll collect her. I’ll take her to a secure location and cut off her access to anything Landry-related. No money, no resources, no communication with Victor.”
Winston studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
“Do it. ASAP.”
“Consider it done.”
Kaisen shifted his weight, his expression still dark. “What about Syx?”
“What about him?” I asked.
“He’s going to lose his shit when he finds out we’re holding her.”
“Then he’ll lose his shit. This is bigger than whatever feelings he thinks he has for her. This is about survival.”
Kaisen nodded slowly, and I could see the wheels turning in his head.
He was calculating, strategizing, figuring out how to position himself in this new reality.
Good.
I needed him sharp. I needed him focused.
“Let’s go,” Winston said, grabbing his keys from the desk. “We’re going to Victor’s house. Now.”
The drive to Victor’s estate was tense and silent.
I was behind the wheel of my truck, Winston in the passenger seat, Kaisen in the back.
Victor’s house was the kind of place that screamed untouchable.
But nothing was untouchable.
Not anymore.
I pulled up to the gate and rolled down my window.
The intercom crackled to life before I could press the button.
“State your business.” The voice was mechanical, distorted through the speaker.
“Tell Victor that Winston and Amai Landry are here to see him,” Winston said, leaning across me to speak into the intercom.
A pause.
“Mr. Baptiste is not receiving visitors at this time.”
“Tell him it’s about the vault,” I said, my voice cold. “Tell him we know what he did.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“Mr. Baptiste is aware of your presence. He declines to meet with you.”
This hoe ass nigga was playing in our face.
“Open the fucking gate,” I said. “Before I drive this muthafucka through it like I did before.”
“I’m afraid I cannot do that, Mr. Landry and if you damage Mr. Baptiste’s property, we will have you locked up.”
Winston put a hand on my arm, a silent warning to keep my temper in check.
“We just want to talk,” Winston said, his voice calm. “Five minutes. That’s all we’re asking.”
“Mr. Baptiste has made his position clear. He will not be meeting with you tonight.”
I slammed my hand against the steering wheel.
“Victor!” I shouted toward the intercom. “I know you can hear me! Get your ass out here and face us like a man!”
The intercom crackled again, and this time, the voice that came through was different.
Familiar.
Smug.
“Amai.” Victor’s voice was smooth, almost amused. “Always so dramatic.”
“You stole from us. You betrayed Winston’s trust. You cleaned out our vault and left our people dead.”
“I did what was necessary,” Victor said. “Business, Amai. Nothing personal.”
“Nothing personal?” I felt the rage building, consuming. “You took everything we had. You left us vulnerable in the middle of a war. And you think that’s not personal?”
“I think you’re overreacting,” Victor said. “You Landrys always had a flair for the dramatic.”
Winston leaned forward, his voice cutting through the tension.
“Victor. We can resolve this. Meet with us. Let’s talk like civilized men.”
Victor laughed—a cold, hollow sound that made my skin crawl.
“Civilized? Winston, you shot your own son. Don’t talk to me about being civilized.”
I felt Kaisen shift in the backseat, his presence a silent reminder that we weren’t alone in this.
“Name your terms,” Winston said. “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” Victor’s voice took on a mocking tone. “I want you to understand that the old order is over. The Landrys don’t run this city anymore. I do.”
“Bullshit,” I said.
“Is it?” Victor’s voice was sharp now, cutting. “You’re broke, Amai. Your vault is empty. Your right-hand man is missing. Your wife hates you. Your surrogate is running from you. And your brother—” He paused, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Well, your brother is just trying to survive.”
My eyes darted to my dad, “You just be telling him all our damn business, huh?”
Kaisen’s hand gripped the back of my seat.
“You don’t know shit about me,” he said, his voice deadly.
“I know enough,” Victor said. “I know you’re weak. I know you’re desperate. And I know you’ll do anything to get what you want.”
“Enough,” Winston said, his voice cutting through the exchange. “Victor. Meet with us. Tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. Warehouse district. We’ll talk then.”
The silence stretched out, long and heavy.
Then Victor spoke again, his voice thoughtful.
“Fine. Tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. Warehouse district. But come alone, Winston. Just you and Amai. No soldiers. No backup. Just the two of you.”
“Agreed,” Winston said before I could object.
“Good. I’ll see you then.”
The intercom went dead.
I stared at the gate, pushing down the overwhelming urge to drive my truck through it and take back what was ours.
“It’s a trap,” I said.
“Of course it’s a trap,” Winston said. “But we don’t have a choice. We need that money back. Without it, we can’t fund this war. Without it, we’re dead.”
I turned to look at him, my temples throbbing.
“And if we walk into that warehouse and don’t walk out?”
“Then we don’t walk out.” Winston’s voice was flat, matter-of-fact. “But we’re going anyway.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him this was suicide. Wanted to remind him that Victor had already proven he couldn’t be trusted.
But Winston was right.
We didn’t have a choice.
I put the truck in reverse and backed away from the gate, my mind already racing through scenarios, strategies, contingencies.