by Ashley
“Yes, sir,” Mo answered, sticking his chest out slightly in pride.
“I love you, son.”
“I love you, too, Daddy,” Mo replied.
“Now go into my bedroom. Put the code into the panic room and stay inside. Don’t come out until your auntie Breeze comes for you and don’t look at the screens on the walls, Mo. You a man of your word, right?” Monroe asked.
His son nodded. His eyes teared.
“Don’t cry, son. I’m in there … always,” Monroe stressed, pointing at his son’s chest. He pulled his son in for a hug and then kissed the top of his head before pushing him toward the room. He pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed Breeze. She answered on the first ring.
“B, I don’t have much time. The feds are here. I need you to come get Mo. He’s in the panic room. He’s not coming out until you get here,” Monroe said.
“Money, wait, you’re talking too fast … the feds? What are you—?”
“Just come get my son, B!” he said urgently. “Take care of him. I love you.” Money ended the call and then rushed into his office. He loosened his tie and paced nervously, placing his hands on his head in distress. He wished he could lie down and take the time that they were trying to throw at him, but he refused to let them take away more years of his life. They had done that once before. He had told himself once he got out that he was never going back inside. Street legends always died on the throne. His father had died that way. Now, he would, too. He rushed to his safe and pulled out an AK–47 with the hundred-round drum. He was a one-man army. Money wished this didn’t have to play out in front of his son, but it was now or never. The feds were at his front door. If they took him into custody, he knew he would never see another free day in his life. He refused to live on his knees. He would die on his throne before he allowed himself to become a slave to the system. He gritted his teeth as he fought the feelings of anxiety that filled his belly. He made sure he was locked and loaded before walking slowly down the steps. He looked around, knowing that it would be the last time he would see this home. It was the place where he had grown up. The Diamond estate. It was the castle that Carter Diamond had built for his children. Monroe wouldn’t disrespect it by having a gunfight inside. He stepped outside on the front porch and walked out into the middle of the circular drive. Flashing red and blue lights approached. As many agents as they sent, you would think they were coming to take down a giant. In a sense, they were. Monroe was a street king. He would not be defeated easily. His ego wouldn’t allow it to happen that way. They pulled up a hundred yards away from him and filtered out of their cars.
“Monroe Diamond! I have a warrant for your arrest!” one of them shouted.
He didn’t hesitate. He sprayed.
RAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT.
The AK–47 thundered as he rained bullets down on them. The kickback from the powerful weapon was so strong that he had to brace himself as he gritted his teeth while curling his finger on the trigger. Glass shattered as he shot out the agents’ car windows. They cowered under gunfire and quickly returned with some of their own. Even with the high-powered weapon, he was outgunned. There was only one of him; there were a couple dozen of them and they were firing at him from all directions.
The first bullet that hit him took his breath away as a burning sensation spread through his chest. The impact of the bullet knocked him to his knees, but he never let go of the gun. He gritted his teeth as the taste of blood filled his mouth.
“Put down the weapon! Put it down!” the feds shouted as they aimed their weapons at him. He spit the blood out of his mouth, but it was futile. It only filled up more.
“Agh!!!” Monroe screamed in anger. He stood to his feet. “You can’t kill me! I’m the king of Miami! This is my shit!”
He staggered to his feet and hugged the trigger, spraying bullets everywhere. “Muthafuckas!” Bullets riddled the police cars that sat on the front lawn. The federal agents tried to show restraint as they cowered behind their cars, but Monroe wasn’t letting up. He had a chopper and if they wanted to come for him, he wasn’t going peacefully. Eventually they returned fire. It was like the Wild Wild West in his front yard.
“Daddy!”
Monroe heard Mo’s voice and he turned around, bloody, wounded, as he stared into his son’s eyes. He held his head high as he watched tears slide down his son’s face. “Diamonds are forever. I’m in here,” he said as he hit his chest proudly with his free hand. The fear that registered on Mo’s face broke Monroe’s heart. He never wanted his son to see this part of the game. This was the part that tainted young boys … this was the ugly part of it all, but it was too late. Mo was witnessing that gangster shit.
The agents used this distraction and fired relentlessly as Monroe’s body jerked left, then right from the impact of the bullets. They shot Monroe down as if he were a rabid dog, right in front of his seed, who stood watching it all, in horrified shock.
Monroe felt his life slipping. It felt as if he were drowning, but his eyes never left his son’s. He saw himself in Mo. His life played out like a movie in front of him. He saw his parents. He remembered how he had looked up to his father. He had wanted to be just like him, and now, in the last moments of his life, he realized he was. He had died because of the game … a game where there were no wins for anyone. It wasn’t what Big Carter had wanted for his children, especially one as intelligent as Monroe. It was then that Monroe realized he had played the game of life incorrectly. Big Carter took to the streets so that his children would never have to, but instead, they had all followed in his fated footsteps. It was a tragic cycle that had led to the demise of an entire bloodline. The pain began to overwhelm Monroe as he gritted his teeth while gurgling on his own blood. He had never felt anything like this slow burn. All he wanted to do was take a deep breath … to just inhale … but he couldn’t, and as he fell face-forward into the pavement, he heard a familiar voice.
“Its okay, bro. Just let go. It all goes away once you just let the streets go.”
Monroe blinked slowly because he knew that his mind had to be playing tricks on him. Mecca was in front of him as clear as day, talking to him … urging him to let go. He choked and he struggled, trying to fight the grim reaper as long as he could. It hurt so bad. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. He wanted to just get air to his lungs, but he … just … couldn’t. I’m dying, he thought.
“Just let go, Money. I’m right here,” Mecca’s voice said. “It won’t hurt anymore once you let go.”
Monroe finally listened as the struggle stopped and he just lay there as the last shallow breaths seeped from his body. Damn, he’s right. It doesn’t hurt, he thought. A calm passed over him in his final moments. A euphoric feeling swept over him, removing all pain. His crying son was the last thing he saw before permanently closing his eyes. Monroe “Money” Diamond was no more. With him, the legacy of The Cartel would be buried six feet under.
* * *
Sam walked into her apartment feeling victorious. She flipped the light switch. “Damn it,” she said as she sucked her teeth, realizing her light had blown. She had been undercover for so long that she hadn’t darted these doors in months. “I’ll be surprised if anything works at all.” She wiggled the light switch up and down again, to no avail. It had been a long day. Hell, it had been a long three years. All she wanted to do was come home to her own place and wrap her mind around what she had just achieved. Her investigation had finally come to an end and she had closed her case. It wasn’t the conclusion she had in mind, but it would be enough to land her a promotion. Taking down The Cartel that had duped the federal government years ago would put her on the fast track. It was what they called “the case of a lifetime.” Most agents were lucky to even get one. It was the case that Supreme Court justices were made of, which was her ultimate goal. The arrest of the leader of the infamous Murder Mamas and the death of Monroe Diamond was an accomplishment. She hadn’t nailed Carter, but she had done enou
gh to make her career a long and fruitful one. She took off her holster and placed her weapon near the table that sat near the front door. The tension that had been building in her body left her with one long sigh. “God, I need a beer,” she said to herself before heading to the kitchen. She ran her hands through her hair and pulled it back into a sloppy ponytail before opening her fridge. The interior light came on and she grabbed a beer from the top shelf. Popping the top, she took a long swig before turning to head to her room.
The silhouette of the person sitting in the chair before her sent her into a panic as terror struck her. “Shit!” she shouted in alarm as she dropped her beer.
“Sit down,” Aries demanded in a calm tone.
Sam’s eyes shot to her holstered gun that she had placed by the door, but before she could even make a move, Aries fired on her.
PSST!
“Agh!!!” Sam screamed in excruciation as she fell to the floor.
Everyone had always pegged Miamor as the most deadly Murder Mama, but Aries was highly underrated. She pulled triggers with less remorse than any of them. She had just blown off Sam’s knee without thinking twice. “I asked you nicely the first time. Now you don’t have a choice but to sit,” Aries said.
Sam writhed as blood soaked through her pants and she grabbed her knee in pain. Aries stood and walked over to the federal agent. She bent down in front of her. “We wouldn’t want anyone hearing you scream now, would we? They might interrupt our fun,” she sneered. She snatched the kitchen towel off of the stove and stuffed it into Sam’s mouth, then pulled a roll of duct tape from the messenger bag she wore across her body. She wrapped the tape tightly around Sam’s entire head. Anger flickered in Aries’s eyes as Sam tried to scream through the tape. “See, Miamor knew there was something fishy about you,” Aries said. “She just couldn’t place her finger on it. Turns out you’re a fucking fed.” Aries grabbed Sam’s long hair and wrapped it around her fist until she had a tight hold on her. She dragged the woman across the floor mercilessly, leaving a bloody trail along the way. “Get in the chair,” she said. Her voice was so calm that it sent a chill up Sam’s spine. The look in Aries’s eyes was sociopathic. She had no remorse. No emotion. This routine was automatic for her. No matter how much she tried to keep the beast in her dormant, it always surfaced … eventually. Sam struggled to climb into the chair. Aries grabbed Sam’s wrist and forced her hand to lie flat on the kitchen table. She pulled out a hunting knife from her bag.
“Agh!” Aries shouted as she jammed it through Sam’s hand. She used so much force that the knife went through Sam’s hand and through a good portion of the table, keeping Sam in place. Sam hollered in agony. Aries was unaffected by her screams.
“The problem with taking out a Murder Mama is that there is always another one you have to worry about. We just keep coming and coming for your head. Miamor is my sister. We have been at this thing together for a long time. You took her away and for that, you have to answer to me. My murder game is worth six figures. I don’t do this for free, but the minute you put shackles around Miamor’s wrists, you made this personal. You are on my bad side, and that’s not a very safe place to be.”
Sam screamed. She cried, but her sounds were inaudible behind the tape. No amount of pleading would get her out of this predicament. She had destroyed an empire. She had dismantled a family. She deserved every bit of pain Aries wanted to inflict, and Aries was in the mood for punishment.
“Go ahead. Me hear screaming dulls de pain. Releases endorphins or something in de brain,” Aries said as she circled Sam like a predator sizing up prey. “Although it doesn’t look like you are feeling any relief.” Aries chuckled. She wanted to make Sam’s death as slow as those years that Miamor was about to endure, but she knew that the longer this took, the more her chances of getting caught increased.
It was one of the rules of the Murder Mamas. “Get in and out,” Miamor had always said. “Don’t let your rage become a distraction. When you get distracted, you get sloppy; when you get sloppy, you get caught.” Tears came to Aries’s eyes because she knew she would never see her beloved friend again. It would be too big of a risk for Aries to ever walk into a prison for a visit. They would be forever parted by the steel and concrete that would serve as a cage to Miamor for the rest of her life. That fact made Aries sick to her stomach. She had felt it before when Robyn had been executed, and before that when Anisa had been killed, and even before that when Beatrice had lost her life. She was the last one standing, and it was a heavy burden to bear.
“You took away me family,” Aries said as she stopped directly behind Sam. She bent down to whisper in her ear. “You’re a fucking pig … a fucking filthy fed pig. You deserve to be slaughtered like one.” Sam’s eyes widened in panic. “Tell me … is it true that your life flashes before your eyes before you die?” She quickly pulled the knife out of the table and slid it across Sam’s neck in one smooth movement. She walked around Sam’s body and stood in front of her, watching as blood streamed from her throat. Sam gurgled as she struggled to breathe. The sound was music to Aries’s ears. “You fucked with de wrong one,” she said. Aries didn’t move until all of the life had drained from Sam’s body. She then walked to the sink, rinsed off the hunting knife, and then placed it back in her messenger bag. She wasn’t worried about fingerprints because she had never taken off her gloves. She wasn’t new to covering her tracks. There wasn’t a forensics team in the world that could pin a murder on her. Aries walked out the door, disappearing as if she had never even been there at all. Miamor had been avenged. Fuck Karma … that bitch worked too slowly. Aries’s method was much quicker and much harsher than the winds of life could have ever been. Sam would never get a chance to reap the rewards of taking down The Cartel. She was being promoted, all right. She was going up into the heavens. Aries had made sure of it.
* * *
“Where are my keys?” Breeze whispered to herself as she opened up her kitchen drawers. Monroe was in trouble. She had heard it in his voice that he planned on doing something stupid. Her nephew needed her. Monroe needed her, and as she frantically ripped her home apart, she could feel tears building in her eyes. “Damn it!” she screamed. She rushed into the master bedroom and opened her nightstand to no avail. She sighed and then hurriedly went to Zyir’s side of the bed. She opened the drawer. She rummaged through his belongings, and relief flooded her when she located her Benz fob in the mess. Just as she was about to close the drawer, a picture caught her eye. She frowned as she stared at her own mug shot. Flipping it around, she read the inscription on the back.
Just a friendly reminder of what’s at stake. Get my evidence. Either bring down The Cartel, or you fall with them.
Evidence? Breeze thought. She dropped the photo as if suddenly it were hot to the touch. She went back into the drawer. Breeze had never snooped on Zyir. She had never felt the need to invade his privacy. She trusted him, but now her antennas were up. Monroe was in trouble, and now Breeze suspected Zyir was the reason behind it.
“Hmm, hmm.”
The sound of Zyir clearing his throat made her freeze.
“What are you doing?” Zyir asked.
“What did you do?” she shot back, accusatory, as she stared at him with disappointment in her eyes.
He didn’t even have to respond for her to know the answer. The look of guilt and sorrow that spread on his face told it all. She bent down and snatched the picture off the floor. She read the back aloud. “‘Either bring down The Cartel, or you fall with them’?” She had been shouting and she hadn’t even realized it.
“I can explain,” he stated.
“You’re talking to the feds,” Breeze surmised as a queasiness settled into her stomach. She didn’t know if it was the pregnancy or the revelation that had come to light, but all of a sudden she felt sick.
“I had to, B. They were closing in on—”
“They’re coming for Monroe right now! While I’m standing here arguing with you, they’re stor
ming my parents’ estate!” Breeze shouted in disbelief. “I trusted you! We all trusted you!”
“Let me explain it to you. I did this for you,” he said. The way she was looking at him was breaking his heart. “You know me. Just hear me out.”
“I don’t know anything about you,” she said. She turned around and rushed to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She barely made it to the toilet before vomit erupted. She was hot, literally and figuratively. Sweat beads built on her forehead as her anger pulsed.
“B, you have to calm down … this stress ain’t good for the baby. Just let me in. Let me tell you how it came to this,” Zyir pleaded.
She didn’t respond. Her heart was so wounded that it felt like it had lost its beat. She climbed to her feet and turned on the faucet. She cupped her hands under the water and took some into her mouth, gargling. She then splashed water over her face, completely overwhelmed.
“Breeze, open this door! Let me talk to you, B. I love you. It was all for you. Just hear me out.”
She heard him, but she had no response. Breeze couldn’t even develop the right words to say. She couldn’t stop shaking her head in disgust. This was a betrayal that she could have never seen coming.
Breeze stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her head bowed as she gripped the sides of the sink. The knot in her stomach was so big that it felt like someone had stabbed her. She squeezed her eyes tightly while gritting her teeth. Betrayal burned. It seared through her soul as the lies she had been told replayed in her mind. All this time she had been sleeping with the enemy. The deception that she had discovered stung. It ate away at every memory that she and Zyir shared. She thought she knew him. She had thought they were soul mates, but if that were true, how had he so easily fooled her. He had been working with the feds and she had known nothing about it. Every day he had hidden it from her, which made her ask the inevitable question: What else is he hiding? It felt like someone had punched her in the gut. The wind had been knocked out of her. Zyir, a man who had shown her nothing but exemplary character and loyalty … a man who had saved her life … a man she had given 100 percent of herself to had turned snitch. It felt like a bad dream. Zyir was nothing like the man she’d thought him to be. In her family’s book, there was nothing lower than a nigga who didn’t stand tall when his back was against the wall. Even Breeze, with her privilege and spoiled ways, knew that to cooperate was to betray every moral that had been drilled into her since birth. He had dishonored his name and there was no excuse. Breeze felt like she didn’t know the man she had lain next to for years.
