Chapter 7 #4
Monroe had avenged her death with no mercy, but even revenge had never freed him.
Now he understood why. Because maybe there had never been a death to avenge.
Mitch could only imagine how his nephew was feeling, and truth be told, he was justified in whatever way he wanted to carry it moving forward.
There was one thing that was unspoken, but had already been established between them.
Even with Mitch being the head of the family, he would forever be ten toes down when it came to his nephew.
Monroe stood and began to pace the floor, and Mitch said nothing because when it was all said and done, he was ready to take this shit wherever it needed to go on behalf of his nephew..
“My daughter grew up without me,” he murmured. “She probably needed me. Asked about me. Wondered where the fuck I was.” His voice broke again, and that only made him angrier. “And I was right here.”
Mitch stepped from behind the desk slowly. “You didn’t know.”
“That don’t change what she missed.”
“Nah,” Mitch agreed. “It don’t.”
Monroe stopped pacing and turned toward him. At that moment, he wasn’t the Don. He wasn’t strong, and wasn't the man everybody feared. He was a father who had just found out he had failed a child he never knew existed. Why didn’t she tell me she was pregnant?
“We gotta move strategically with this shit. Macie-”
At the mention of Macie, Monroe’s face changed completely. Whatever softness had cracked open seconds before began sealing itself behind something colder.
“Macie is fuckin’ dead to me,” he said with finality.
Mitch didn’t respond, just nodded his understanding.
Monroe’s breathing slowed, but that didn’t mean he was calm. It meant he was becoming controlled again, and Mitch knew that version of Monroe was far more dangerous than the emotional one.
“I need everything,” Monroe said. “The letter. Names. Proof. Who helped her. Who knew. Every person connected to this shit.”
“I already took care of Abel. Him, Macie, Sienna, and my father were the only ones who knew,” Mitch clarified, taking a long drag from his blunt, then passed it to his nephew.
Monroe nodded once, then silence stretched between them again.
Only this time, it wasn’t empty. It was loaded.
He looked toward the window, watching rain slide down the glass while his entire life rearranged itself.
Promise’s face flashed through his mind again, and guilt tightened in his chest. He loved her.
That hadn’t changed. But how was he supposed to go back to her after his past had walked in with his daughter attached to it?
Mitch read the shift in his face.
“You talk to Promise ‘bout this yet?” Mitch inquired, sitting back down behind his desk.
Monroe’s jaw tightened. “Nah. A nigga gotta make it right wit’ her. She tried to talk to me,” Monroe admitted. “Tried to figure out what was wrong, and I flipped the shit into some other shit.”
Mitch shook his head slightly. “She ain’t deserve that.”
“I know. That’s what make the shit worse.” Monroe said quickly, guilt flashing across his face.
Promise was innocent in all of this, but she was standing directly in the path of a storm Macie had created years ago. Monroe knew that. Mitch knew that. Yet, neither man had an easy answer for it.
“I love her, Unc,” Monroe confessed out loud for the very first time.
Mitch looked at him. “I know.”
Monroe swallowed hard. “But Sienna…” He didn’t finish. Didn’t have to.
Mitch understood.
Sienna was grief resurrected.
A wound reopened. A love that had never ended properly because it had been violently stolen instead. Promise was present, peace, future. Sienna was history, pain, unfinished business, and now the mother of his child. Macie had created a war no gun could solve.
“Don’t make no decisions tonight,” Mitch said firmly.
Monroe looked at him, but didn’t speak.
“You hear me? Not about Promise, Sienna, or Macie,” Mitch wisely advised. “Not while you bleedin’, nephew. I know you fucked up right now, but this situation gotta be handled with precision and care. And, when it come to your daughter… Man, you gotta handle her wit’ a light touch.”
Monroe’s nostrils flared, but he listened and understood.
“You’ve always been a real man, and I know how hard it is not to become a weapon,” Mitch paused, then continued. “Even if you gotta step away from all this shit for a minute, then come back and decide what kind of damage need to be done. Just take your time. I got you no matter what.”
When Mitch looked in Monroe’s eyes, he already knew his nephew had crossed into a place nobody would be able to easily pull him from.
Monroe wasn’t just hurt, his eyes had been opened.
Monroe stared at him for a moment, then he nodded, but the rage in his eyes didn’t fade.
It settled for the time being, but once a man like Monroe opened his eyes to betrayal, forgiveness became damn near impossible.
“Macie needs to be watched.”
“Already got it covered.”
Monroe didn’t need details. For the first time all night, the smallest trace of alignment settled between them.
His pain was still present, the betrayal still thick, but direction was beginning to form.
Mitch and Monroe were the head of the family, and Macie had underestimated both of them, especially Monroe.
“I ain’t stopping until I know everything.”
Mitch nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
Outside, rain continued falling over the city, washing the streets clean while sin still moved beneath the surface. As Monroe stood in the middle of the wreckage of his own life, there was one thing that was abundantly clear. His mother could never be trusted again.