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The room falls silent again, the lighthearted energy from before feeling more like a distant memory than a recent occurrence. I can taste the anger on my tongue, not just from the others but also from myself. I want to wring my uncle’s thick neck for ruining the meeting like this, but it’s not his fault.
Josiah crosses his arms over his chest. “If I were you, I’d be doing what I can to recoup the losses we’ve sustained instead of pointing fingers, Demetrius.”
Demetrius scoffs. “Yeah, maybe I’d listen to you if I felt like you had our best interests in mind. You’re supposed to be an OG. What the fuck are you doing down here?”
“I’ll give you one more opportunity to do the right thing and keep your mouth shut,” Josiah replies, completely unbothered.
“Or what?” Demetrius asks. Clearly, he’s never seen what my uncle is capable of doing.
Josiah casually uncrosses his arms and reaches for a handgun tucked in his belt. “Do you want to ask me that again?”
All of the color drains from Demetrius’s face, and he opens his mouth in apology.
I already know what’s going to happen. I reach for my gun, but Josiah gets the shot off before me, firing twice and hitting Demetrius in the chest. The blood begins to pour from his wounds, and I keep my gun pointed at the others, barely able to pay attention to them as deep red diffuses into the blue of Demetrius’s shirt.
Demetrius struggles to stay standing at first, but he’s on his knees within seconds, suffocating as his lungs fill with blood.
We all watch in silent captivation as he struggles, scratching at his throat and gurgling black froth from his mouth.
I quickly glance down at Cambria, who has curled herself into the corner under the desk, eyes wide as she covers her own mouth in terror.
“Does anybody else have any helpful suggestions? Anyone at all?” Josiah says, waving his gun around.
Everybody shakes their heads solemnly, not even daring to provoke him.
I must admit, even though it’s not my style to shoot someone just for acting defiant, Josiah’s method has worked to quell the doubt in the room when he first arrives. Maybe he intended to kill someone from the beginning as a way to distract from the stolen shipment.
“Now that we got the questions out of the way, I need you all to come up with a list of probable suspects,” Josiah says, looking straight toward me. “And I’m assuming you want to conduct a counter-attack.”
I tuck my gun back into my jacket, giving him a curt nod. “Yes, gather up some people who could be helpful. We’re not just going to sit around and let ourselves be robbed.”
The others left in the room nod in agreement. Whether due to actual support or not wanting to be the next one leaking crimson all over the floor, I’m not sure.
Josiah smiles at me as though this were all part of a greater plan he had. “Perfect, then it appears Abram has everything under control as needed. It’s not about how quickly we respond but whether or not we find the right people. That’s the whole point,” he says.
And with those words, I’m left to divert the original intention of our meeting to a contingency plan for regaining our lost inventory. The entire time, I can’t help but wonder what must be running through Cambria’s mind. Is she terrified? Does she regret ever coming here?
Do I have to kill her to keep her quiet?
