We sat at the kitchen table again.
Same seats.
Same space.
Different weight.
“I thought about what you said,” I began. “About my brother.”
Zayden nodded once. “I figured you would.”
“I’m not asking you to avenge him,” I continued. “That’s not business. That’s emotion.”
“And you don’t move on emotion,” he said.
“No,” I agreed. “I move on shared leverage. If we do this, we have something on one another, and it ensures loyalty.”
He slid a folded paper across the table.
It included names, addresses, and the faces of twin brothers.
“They set him up,” he said. “Gave statements. Took deals. Walked.”
I studied the page carefully.
“They’re still local,” he said.
He stared at me with a softer expression on his face.
“And you want them gone.”
“Yes,” I said, sure.
He leaned back, fingers steepled.
“They took my brother’s life without killing him,” I said. “I’m just correcting the imbalance.”
Zayden swallowed.
“These Niggas dangerous,” he said.
“So are we,” I replied.
Zayden’s eyes flicked between us, assessing.
I took the lead on logistics. Zayden on timing. I handled surveillance.
I’d already done my homework.
“These two meet every Thursday,” I said, pointing to the map. “Same bar. Same booth.”
“And the third?” Zayden asked.
“He doesn’t go out,” I replied. “Which makes him predictable.”
Zayden smiled faintly.
“You always thinking three steps ahead?”