Michelle doesn’t reply, but the heaving of her chest and clenched fists is reply enough. Shit, even I know he isn’t wrong. Asad checks her every time she steps out of line. He can’t be run or managed.
It’s starting to make sense now. It’s starting to make a terrible sense. The anger coursing through me has me seeing red, and I don’t need to close my eyes to envision their deaths. Their painful, slow deaths.
They took from me.
I don’t need to hear them say the words to confirm what I already know.
They’re responsible for murdering Marcus.
As shitty as he was, they stole my father from me. Maybe more importantly, they stole the chance I had to make peace with him. To reconcile who we were to each other, whatever that would’ve been. Father, daughter. Employee, employer. Or nothing. But it wasour choice. Not theirs. Now, I’ll never know what we could’ve had. I’ll never know if…
They took from me.
And now they nearly took Asad, too. For what? Power. Money. Greed.
They can’t have anything else from me.
Now I’ma take every fucking thing from them.
Even if we all die right here in this dusty-ass den.
Carefully, slowly, so not to draw their notice, I inch my shoe off and reach for it. While they continue to go back and forth, I quickly screw the heel off, removing a needle inserted on the inside of it. Who knew my own special design would come in handy so soon? Time isn’t my bitch, so I stick the needle, cap on, against my breast and twist the heel back on the shoe.
“You’re an ungrateful shit, Kareem,” Michelle fumes, jabbing a finger at him. “I did all this for you. Arranged all of thisfor you. Do you really think Deacon or Xavier would’ve entertained working for us if not for me? No, they respected me, not you. I got that videotape from Marcus’s building. I arranged for that whore to overdose him. What have you done except play the pathetic sycophant fool for Prince? What are you without me? What do you really think you’re going to do without me to tell you how to wipe your own ass?” she sneers. “You’re nothing.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he shouts, hurling the tumbler at the wall. Michelle jumps as glass splinters and alcohol decorate the wallpaper near her head. I don’t manage to control my flinch. Gotdamn. Thank God they’re too embroiled in each other’s mess to notice. “Just shut the fuck up for once. All we’ve ever heard is what you’ve done for us. What you sacrifice. I’m sick of it. We weren’t born to be your fucking pawns. Shit, we didn’t ask to be fucking born. Did you ever stop and think for once that Prince didn’t give you a position in his inner circle at Cross because he knows he can’t trust you? I mean, why would he?” Kareem starts laughing, and the deranged note sends chills racing over my skin. He’s unraveling. And Michelle is too arrogant to realize it. “He knows what you’re capable of. You murdered our father for a come up. Why wouldn’t you take him out for one?”
“Shut up!” Michelle screams. “That’s a lie! Don’t you ever say that again.”
Kareem laughs again and grabs a bottle off the bar but is careful not to turn, giving Michelle his back. Smart guy.
“You keep telling yourself that,” he taunts, pouring anotherglass of alcohol. “But here’s what’s going to happen. Fuck Cross. I’m tired of standing in the shadow of my big brother. Even in this plan, I’m second best to you. So fuck him and fuck you. I’m taking the key to all this shit”—he turns toward the cage, and I quickly shut my eyes, going so still, I stop breathing—“her, and leaving. I have a plane ready to leave in ninety minutes, fueled up and headed to Europe. I’m going to start my own empire. And the only reason I have someone on Prince to kill him is because I don’t feel like looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. So congratulations, Mom. You’ll still get what you want. Prince, dead. Though what you can do with that and a crumbling kingdom with no king, I don’t know. And don’t give a fuck.”
“You can’t possibly believe you’ll get away with this,” Michelle says, a note of desperation creeping into her voice beneath the fury as she spreads her arms wide.
“Get away with it? Shit, it’s done. You already said it. I’m the pathetic sycophant brother. Who would suspect me of trying to kill him or kidnap his fiancée? I don’t have it in me.”
I lift my lids to see him set his glass on the bar and approach Michelle. I stiffen, expecting him to choke her, kill her… anything but plant a kiss on her cheek. Grinning, he turns and walks toward the cage.
My heart kicks against my rib cage, attempting to execute a jailbreak, but I deliberately force my body to relax, trying not to give him any reason to suspect I’ve awakened.Patience. Be patient.Clearing my mind, I focus on his every movement, planning mine. It’s two against one. But one at a time.
I cautiously roll over, moaning as if I’m just waking up. Kareem, standing at the cell door, smiles at me, and I want to burn the shit off his face with hydrofluoric acid. Give that muthafucka a facelift.
“Ember, you’re awake.” He winces when I touch the back of my head, and the genuine concern in his expression has my belly clenching against the nauseous churning. “I’m sorry about that,but I needed to incapacitate you fast. Don’t worry though. I have painkillers for the headache you no doubt have.”
I don’t say anything, just stare at him. What am I supposed to say? Thank you? The fuck?
He doesn’t seem to need a response from me though. Nodding and giving me a sympathetic glance, he unlocks the cage door and steps inside. Reaching into his front suit pocket, he removes a knife. A second later, the blade flicks free.
“Sorry about this, but we have a plane to catch, and I can’t afford any trouble out of you.” Bending down, he cuffs my upper arm with the hand free of the knife, and helps me to my feet, steadying me when I pretend to stumble. Out of my peripheral vision, Michelle glares at us, her hands clenching and releasing in a spasmodic rhythm. While he’s focused on playing the gentleman, I finger the cap on the syringe off and hold it, needle down, between my fingers, hidden at my side. “If you come quietly, I won’t have to hurt you again,” he says, guiding me from the cell. “I have clothes for you to—fuck!”
He screams, hand clutching his neck where the syringe protrudes from it. Eyes wide, he snatches it free—oh, but it’s much too late for that. I back away, satisfaction and grim delight burning through me as he falls to his knees, limbs jerking, body convulsing.
“Bitch, what did you do?” Michelle cries, running to her son and falling to her knees beside his body. She attempts to turn him over, yelling his name, but his eyes roll into the back of his head and he goes unnaturally still. “What did you do?” she screams again, running her hands over Kareem’s body.
“Botulism toxin. Well, my altered form of it. Instead of hours or days, he’s experiencing paralysis of his body now, in seconds. And respiratory failure won’t be too long now. Basically, he’s suffocating in his own body. But he can still hear you for the next couple of minutes. So, Kareem”—I tilt my head even though he can’t move to see me—“bye, bitch.”
The labored rattle of his breath signals his imminent death, and I don’t turn to run for the door. I don’t try to escape. I should, but I’m too hungry to witness the death throes, his final, pitiful moments on this earth. Then I want to send his dirty-ass cunt of a mother after him.
