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My father let a whole family collapse because, apparently, his word meant nothing. I couldn’t tell Deonte he was wrong, because I probably would’ve done the same thing, but it didn’t change what he did.

“I hear you,” I said. “And I’m sorry about your family. For real. I didn’t know.”

Deonte’s head dropped forward.

“But you took from me, D. More than once. Shit don’t change because your reasons were valid.”

He shook his head, sobbing.

“What’s Solomon’s end game?”

“I don’t know,” he choked out. “All he said is that your father took more than just his freedom.”

I crouched in front of him. “I told you if I ever saw you again, what happened in the car was gonna be light work.”

“Dez, my daughter…she’s two—” he slurred through his sobs.

I grabbed his jaw. “Were you thinking about her when you were snitching to Solomon? You should’ve been thinking about what would happen if this shit went left. But you didn’t and here we are.”

I looked at Marco and nodded. He went over to the utility sink in the back and grabbed a plastic sheet. He spread it on the floor in front of Deonte. Whatever was left of his hope died right there.

“You got anything else you want to tell me?” I asked as I pulled out my piece.

“I told you everything. Swear,” he croaked. His face was a swollen bloodied mess.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your family. When this is over, I’ll make sure your moms is taken care of. Your daughter too. That’s my word.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

I raised the Glock and pressed it to his forehead. I was gonna be the last face he saw before he died.

The shot echoed through the warehouse. Deonte’s body slumped forward, giving me a view of the blowout from the back of his head.

The ringing in my ears slowly gave way to the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead.

“I’ll call the clean up crew,” Priest said.

“Marco—dump his body wherever. I don’t care but make sure it’s somewhere where he’ll be found.” I turned to him before he could move. “And call Yomi—the Castellano shipment needs to be rerouted. Tonight.”

“Gotchu.”

Priest lit another blunt and offered it to me. I took it and hit it twice, letting the smoke fill my lungs to push the taste of pennies out of my mouth.

“Make sure his peoples have money for his funeral,” I said as I handed it back to him.

It wouldn’t fix anything and it wouldn’t bring her son back, but it was the only thing I could do that separated me from my father.

Orlando made promises and broke them. I wasn’t about to be like that.

I dapped them up and left. I sat in my car for a minute with my hands on the wheel, staring at nothing.

My hands were steady.

They were also covered in Deonte’s blood.

I sighed, pulled out my phone, and dialed my father.

“Son?” He answered.