Chapter Thirty-Four Eason Storm
By the time I pulled into the back alley behind that busted-ass warehouse Prime thought was hidden, my blood was already simmering beneath my skin. The soft part of me stayed with Xalori. This side was the part I kept sharpened for nights like this.
Khamazi was leaning against the hood of a matte black SUV, toothpick between his lips, eyes scanning the shadows like he was already bored of waiting.
Zero sat perched on a rusted pipe like a fucking gargoyle, hoodie half-zipped, twin blades strapped to his back, knuckles bruised from something or someone else.
“Y’all always this damn early?” I muttered as I slammed the door shut behind me.
Khamazi shrugged, flicking his toothpick onto the ground. “When it come to family business? Always. You ready for this?”
I stared past him at the warehouse door, jaw flexing.
“I been ready,” I gritted. “Only reason that nigga been breathing this long is ‘cause I let him.”
Zero dropped down beside me, calm and quiet, but his energy vibrated menace. “Then why we talkin’? Let’s stop the nigga’s clock.”
I smirked, dark and humorless, cracking my neck. No one said shit. We didn’t need to. This wasn’t a discussion. This was a burial.
Khamazi was already moving, his switchblade twirling between his fingers like it was dancing. Zero pulled the door open with one shoulder and stepped into the dark like a shadow with a heartbeat.
I followed them in with murder in my bones and my family’s peace as my only justification. Prime didn’t know what was coming. But he’d know when the lights went out for the last time, that I gave him mercy once. And tonight, I came to collect my fucking receipt.
The door groaned shut behind us, sealing the warehouse in thick silence. No echo. No footsteps. Just the sound of Prime’s fate creeping closer with every breath he took.
The light inside was dim—flickering bulbs swinging from the ceiling like they were scared to stay on. Rusted metal chairs. Empty crates. Dust-covered memories. And in the back corner, leaning like he owned the damn place, was the devil himself.
Prime didn’t flinch when we stepped in. Didn’t even fucking blink. Just smirked like he still had cards left to play.
“You brought backup?” he said, arms spread, voice coated in arrogance. “What happened, Eas? Couldn’t handle me like a man?”
Khamazi’s laugh echoed first, sharp and cold. “Nigga, you barely qualify as a man. Don’t flatter yourself.”
Zero cracked his neck. “We ain’t backup. We just here to witness the ending.”
I stepped forward, slowly, deliberately. My boots echoed loud on the concrete floor.
Prime’s eyes locked on mine, and for the first time, I saw it. Fear. That flicker of recognition in a man who finally realized the beast he’d been poking wasn’t bluffing.
“You thought it was cute,” I said quietly, each word weighted like steel, “dragging my woman, my kids into your bullshit. You thought I wouldn’t find out about the CPS report. The threats. The cameras you planted in her old place. The calls.”
Prime scoffed, but I saw the twitch in his jaw.
“You really tryna kill me over a bitch?”
My fist moved before I told it to. One blow. One brutal punch.
He stumbled, blood spraying from his nose as he caught himself on a crate.
“Don’t you ever disrespect her again,” I growled, stepping so close I could smell the cheap cologne and fear rolling off his skin. “This ain’t about a woman. This is about war. You waged it. You losing it.”
He coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. “You think you won ‘cause she chose you? You think she won’t see what you are when it’s your turn to fail her?”
I grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall.
“My woman knows exactly what I am,” I hissed. “And she ain’t running.”
I pulled my Glock slowly, pressing it beneath his chin, eyes locked on his.
“You, though? You’re a fucking ghost walking.”
Prime’s bravado finally cracked. His breath hitched and hands shaking.
Khamazi stepped up beside me. “We can make it quick. Or we can make it biblical.”
Zero grinned like he hoped I chose the latter. But I paused with my finger resting on the trigger. Then I leaned in, close enough to whisper.
“Nah. You ain’t worth prison. Not today.”
I stepped back, eyes never leaving his.
“You won’t see the bullet coming. You’ll just feel it. And when that moment comes, when you hear that click and feel your world slipping?”
I smirked.
“Know it was me.”
Khamazi swung his knife into Prime’s temple before he could respond, sending him to his maker. Blood poured from his head as he hit the floor like the trash he was.
Prime’s body slumped to the floor in a heap, blood pooling beneath him like a red halo he never earned.
I stood there for a moment, watching him. Watching the breath leave his lungs for good. No flinching, no regrets. Just silence, peaceful and final.
I turned to Zero, my tone flat. “Dump him in a lake or somewhere. Some place where parts of him can be found.”
Khamazi tilted his head, staring at me like I’d lost my damn mind. “You must be out the streets too long. Nigga, are you crazy? I know Pops taught you better than that.”
“Man, shut up,” I scoffed, already brushing Prime’s blood off my knuckles. “At the end of the day, the pussy is still Nasir’s sperm donor. I know my son’s gonna have questions one day and I at least want him to have closure. Something real to bury. Not a mystery.”
“Aww, look at you being a father-man and shit,” Zero clowned, nudging Khamazi with a smirk.
“But nah,” Khamazi added, nodding with that older-brother approval in his eyes. “We get it. Anything for nephew.”
I didn’t say another word. Just turned my back on Prime’s corpse and walked into the night like a man who’d finished what he came to do. No fear. No loose ends.
Just vengeance delivered and a family waiting on the other side of the storm.
By the time I pulled into the driveway of the beach house, the sun was crawling its way back up the horizon—painting the sky in soft golds and muted blues like it was trying to apologize for the hell of the night.
I stepped inside slowly and silent. The air smelled like vanilla and coconut oil and peace. It smelled like home.
Xalori was curled up on the couch in one of my old hoodies, one hand resting on her belly, the other clutching the baby blanket we’d folded together the night before.
Nasir was asleep beside her, tucked close, and Ginger was half-sprawled across Xalori’s lap like she’d claimed her spot and wasn’t giving it back.
I stood there for a long minute. There was no more blood, chaos, or war. Just my family, safe and whole. And for the first time in a long-ass time, I felt something settle in my chest. Not relief, not calm but freedom.
I crossed the room and kneeled down in front of her, brushing her curls from her face. She stirred, lashes fluttering as she blinked herself awake. When her eyes landed on me, I swear I saw her body exhale, without even meaning to.
“You good?” she whispered, voice raspy.
I nodded once. “Handled it.”
She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t need to. Instead, she scooted over just enough for me to wedge myself beside her. Ginger shifted, murmuring something about pancakes. Nasir rolled over and wrapped his arm across his mama like he was claiming her too.
I wrapped my arm around all of them. Every single heartbeat in this room was mine. And I’d burn down the rest of the world to keep them breathing.
I kissed her temple, then her shoulder, then her belly. “Ain’t nobody ever gon’ touch y’all again,” I whispered, low and raw. “Not as long as I’m breathing.”
She nodded, her hand sliding over mine, locking us together like the promise wasn’t just words, it was war paint. We sat there like that, the five of us tangled in the quiet, wrapped in the aftermath.
And for the first time, I didn’t need control to feel powerful. I had love. I had them. And I wasn’t letting go.