Page 24 of Butterfly 6, Phase 1

He turned to Messiah. “We have our differences, G, but our loyalties are with the same family. I’m here to help, not just Mo. You too. The grief of a father is different. Requires a different type of prayer, you feel me?”

Messiah swallowed hard as he nodded. “Respect,” Messiah answered. “Whatever prayers you can lend us, we’ll take ‘em.”

Nyair walked to Yara’s bedside and went into his pocket, pulling out a small glass vial. He bit down on his bottom lip as he mumbled. “We would never get the opportunity to prove our loyalty to God if He never tested our sight in the darkness.” He applied a drop of oil to his thumb and then placed it on Yara’s forehead. “Dear Father, we want to say thank You. We want to thank You for this mountain You have set before our paths. We want to thank You for this pain we feel. For this sickness. For these troubles…”

Messiah cleared his throat as he frowned, perplexed.

Morgan motioned for Messiah to wait as she stared at Nyair.

“You see, God, we know that this grief we feel is not the destination. It is the starting line. This fight, this disease that terrifies us, is of Your will, and so, Your will shall be done. We do not fear the mountain, Lord, because we know You have equipped us with everything we need to climb it. That climb is hard. It is excruciating, and it is so terrifying that it brings us to our knees. It brings us to You. We hear You clearer than any other time when we are in pain. We call on You more than any other time when we are in pain. We are present, Father God. We are paying attention, and we offer our lives to You. We offer her life to You. We understand that You have infinite power, and that we owe You all the praise. We have faith in this journey. With each hard step, with every diagnosis, we will stay faithful, and we will come to You. Yara Rae’s sickness is not the ending of a story; it is the beginning of our story as we learn of Your power, Your mercy, Your glory. Cover Your daughter, Lord. Cover her in the blood. We understand the purpose of this pain, Father, and we’re here now. We are all still. Example need not be made, God. Heal our sweet girl. In the name of Jesus, we pray. Amen.”

“Amen,” Messiah mumbled.

Chapter 8

“Can I Live” by Jay-Z

Ahmeek couldn’t shake the feeling of doom that had been sitting with him since he last saw Morgan. Ethic’s call hadn’t helped. It wasn’t just their blowup in Miami that was causing discontent. He could feel something shifting in their world. It felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it was unsettling. The police were hovering, and although he knew they hadn’t left any evidence behind, he was concerned about Morgan being implicated. He grabbed his Glock off the dresser, checked the clip, and flipped off the safety before holstering it in his back waistline. He hated that Morgan was even susceptible to blame at all. He looked around the hotel suite, knowing he needed to secure a place soon. It was hard for him to commit to being here when she was there. He felt like he needed to remain unrooted so that he would have the ability to pick up and leave at will. It wasn’t realistic. This partnership with Hak was real, and it had the potential to make Ahmeek legendary. First, he had to tie up loose ends. Hak was proving to be a willing ally, showing good faith in harboring Christiana Frederick on his reservation.

Ahmeek looked in the mirror at the tailored linen suit he wore. The white T-shirt he wore with white Prada sneakers made it feel less formal, but it was still a stark contrast to his usual designer street wear. But he couldn’t walk the halls of this five-star establishment looking like he didn’t belong. He needed to blend in seamlessly into the fabric of this new environment. He was staying in a three-thousand-dollar per night suite and accompanying Hak and his associates throughout the city. He hadn’t missed the formality of his last interaction with Hak. This was a different world than he was used to. It would take some adjusting. In the suit, he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled at his sleeves, then adjusted his collar. Ink peeked out from the collar of his Oxford shirt, decorating his neck. His hands bore art, too. He could refine his tastes, but he couldn’t erase his gangster.

The buzzing of his phone garnered his attention, and he grabbed his room key and wallet before walking out.

Instead of hitting the down button on the elevator, Ahmeek pressed up, and when he pushed out of the steel doors, Hak was waiting.

This shit is insane, Ahmeek thought as he headed toward the awaiting helicopter. It was 6 AM, Vegas time, and the sun slowly lifted over the mountains, casting orange and red hues over the sky, making art of his reality. He walked with the confidence of a man who had an army behind him, only he didn’t. His manpower was in Michigan. Out West, he was vulnerable, but he knew he couldn’t show it. Fear made you a mark, and once you were marked, you were killed. Ahmeek had to move with the moxie of a man who had a hundred hitters behind him, whether it was true or not. What he wouldn’t give to have his niggas to his left and right. Ahmeek’s head needed to always stay on a swivel, and his mind on high alert because he was outnumbered out here. It didn’t matter how on point he was, at any moment, one of Hak’s men could put a bullet in his back. He had to establish his value. The more valuable he became to Hak’s operation, the less expendable he would be.

He climbed on board, and Hak handed him a pair of headphones.

“Our guest is waiting. Welcome back. I’m looking forward to closing one chapter so we may begin another,” Hak stated. It was a polite deadline, but a deadline, nonetheless.

“Absolutely,” Ahmeek stated.

“I’ve done some research,” Hak started.

“Is that so?” Ahmeek spoke into the headset while staring out over the city, as the helicopter hovered and then took off.

“The girl you’re protecting,” Hak started, tiptoeing into the subject. “She’s Ethic Okafor’s daughter. Morgan, isn’t it?”

Ahmeek didn’t like where this was headed. He maintained his composure, but his internal alarms blared.

Ahmeek didn’t respond. His body went rigid, and his mind raced.

Who is he connected to? For him to even know about Ethic means his street ties are long, and not just in this fucking desert, Ahmeek thought. Meek pulled out his phone and casually scrolled his timeline, pretending to be more collected than he was. His mind was all over the place, skirting down memory lane to put all the pieces to Hak back together. He hit Isa’s name and sent him his location. Just in case. If anything ever happened to him, he wanted his mama to have something to bury, some closure. He was in a helicopter headed to the middle of fucking nowhere with a man who was more affiliated than he anticipated. His brawn wouldn’t help him navigate Vegas. Not yet, at least. He would have to move carefully and outthink everyone in every room until he could squad up.

“That’s a very valuable relationship. Please let him know I extend all my resources to ensure Morgan’s well-being,” Hak stated. “In whatever way I can be a valuable partner to him, I’m willing. Whatever he needs.”

If Hak was expecting a response, he didn’t press it. Ahmeek wouldn’t mention Ethic’s name to an outsider. Not ever. Especially not over an open airway.

The city gave way to mountains, and the red pigment sparkled under the relentless sun.

“There is ground zero. In the distance. We’re building you an entire operation in the middle of the Mojave. It’s completely isolated. It’s only a 45-minute, or so, flight. It takes hours to get here by car, and the terrain gets rough once you leave the main road. Your pilot will always be on standby.”

“Pilot?” Ahmeek questioned.

“Everything about Las Vegas is elevated. There’s too much traffic here to drive around the city, and much of our business happens in the desert, sometimes as far as Reno. We move in the sky,” Hak boasted proudly with a pat to Ahmeek’s shoulder. “This thing we’re about to build may have started because of a debt, but I hope one day you can look at it as an alliance. Hopefully, our friend, Mr. Okafor, will see value in it as well. It’s a whole new world out here.”

There was that Ethic reference again. Ahmeek now saw the angle clearly. Hak wanted a connection to Ethic, and he was using Ahmeek to reinforce the streets of Vegas so that he could later make the formal introduction. As they deplaned, Ahmeek pulled Hak aside.