“Spitting on somebody has to be the most disgusting shit someone could do. I’d rather a nigga slap me than spit on me… what about you, K?”
Khaos rested his head against the door. “Got to agree with you, G… shit is disrespectful too. Only time I ever spit on a nigga was when I was about to send him to his maker, feel me?”
His body language changed because he knew that he wasn’t making it out of this apartment. I don’t care that he only spit on my cousin. He spit on the wrong person, and his ass had to pay for the shit.
“I didn’t mean no disrespect by that shit… didn’t know she was your people.”
“Yeah, and my aunt and mother don’t like Celine Dion…shut the fuck up lying.”
There was a light tap at the door and Khaos looked through the peephole. He opened the door, and my uncle walked in.
“This da rude boi that spit on mi niece?” he questioned, while looking at Mr. Stewarts.
With a black and mild tucked to the side of his lips, he wore a black trench, with only one arm through the coat.
“C…Chef, I didn’t know she was your niece. Man, you know I’m good people,” he stuttered.
Meanwhile, Khaos was spinning around his shorty while licking the gold in his mouth. “You cook, my dear?”
She slowly nodded her head, thinking this was her way out. Cooking chicken alfredo was her ticket to see another day.
“What you cook? My moms throws down so I’m picky.”
“Any…” she cleared her throat. “Anything, I love to cook.”
He slapped her ass and smirked. “Go in the kitchen and get me something to drink.”
Without a problem, she forgot about her nigga and was more focused on getting my brother something to drink. “Nuh eye see di wicked.” I reminded him.
Chef looked at him. “True ting. Wicked move inna silence.”
Khaos nodded his head, knowing exactly what me and Chef were saying. It didn’t matter how fine, or how good she could cook, we didn’t leave any witnesses. She saw too much, and she had to go.
“My dear?” he called from the front door, as she was in the fridge looking for something in that empty ass fridge.
She didn’t give a damn about that fridge when she was getting money with this bitch. Shorty quickly turned around, excited that she thought she had his head gone.
Pfft! Pfft!
Khaos sent one between her eyes with his gun. I watched as the smoke left the silencer piece on his gun.
Mr. Stewarts was in so much shock that he watched his girl be murdered in front of him that he didn’t notice when my uncle passed me what he had been holding.
“Yuh luv ha?” Chef questioned, not bothered that one of his nephews sent a bullet through a woman’s head, and I was standing there smirking with my arm to the side of me.
“C…Chef, please, ma?—”
“Use yuh mout fi spit; mi wi tek it fram yuh,” Chef had moved back, and I swung that machete and hacked him in his mouth.
Blood splattered everywhere.
He fell to the floor with his mouth leaking and jaw hanging. I stepped over him and continued the job.
I watched his chest rise and fall for the last time, as I looked over him. “Fuck with a Wraithe, you feel the fucking wrath.”
“See evil, do evil. Only Wraithes inflict the wrath that keeps our family.” Chef squeezed my shoulder and took the machete from me.
I didn’t give a fuck about the life that my cousin chose to live. All I knew was that no nigga was about to disrespect her when she had two cousins and an uncle out here. The same went for Boobie.
