Page 198 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

Which left Winston.

I turned back to face the table. “So, we’re looking at my father.”

“Or someone else entirely,” Teal said quietly from his position near the window. “Someone we haven’t considered.”

I fixed him with a stare. “Then consider faster.”

Teal didn’t flinch, but I saw the way his shoulders tensed. Good. They needed to understand the stakes.

I moved back to the table and placed my palms flat against the surface, leaning forward. My voice dropped, cold and controlled. “Here’s what I know: Priest is missing. Operations have been sloppy since he disappeared. Inventory counts are off. Security rotations have gaps. Communication between crews is delayed. Shipments are getting fucked up. And all of that—all of it—makes us vulnerable.”

I looked at each of them in turn. “Vulnerable means we lose territory. We lose money. We lose respect. And I don’t lose any of those things. Ever.”

Brandon shifted slightly. He knew what was coming.

“I’m not Priest,” I continued, my voice dropping even lower. “Priest was patient. Priest was diplomatic. Priest could manage the details, smooth over conflicts, keep everyone in line without raising his voice. He had mercy.” I straightened and let the silence hang for a beat. “I don’t.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

“If there are any fuckups going forward—any at all—it’s your ass,” I said, my gaze moving from face to face. “No exceptions. No second chances. No explanations that matter. You understand me?”

“Yes,” Brandon said immediately.

“Yes,” the others echoed.

“Good.” I straightened and adjusted my jacket. “Find Priest. Find out who has him. Find out why. I want answers by tomorrow night, or I’m going to start making assumptions. And my assumptions tend to be very fucking expensive for the people involved.”

I walked toward the door, then paused and looked back at them. “And if any of you are thinking about running, about cutting a deal with Rahsaan or anyone else—don’t. Because I will find you. And what I do to you will make whatever Priest is going through look like a vacation.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

I left them there, sitting in that cold warehouse, understanding exactly what I’d just communicated: I was in control. I was always in control. And anyone who forgot that was going to learn the hard way.

As I walked to my car, the night air hit me—thick, humid, carrying the smell of the canal and distant rain. I unlocked the door and slid into the driver’s seat, my mind already moving through contingencies.

If Winston had Priest, it was a power play. A message. A way to remind me that no matter how much territory I controlled, nomatter how much money I made, I was still his son. Still under his thumb.

If Rahsaan had him, it was a declaration of war. A calculated move to destabilize my operation before making a larger play for territory.

If it was someone else—someone I hadn’t considered—then I was already behind. Already reacting instead of controlling.

I hated reacting.

This wasn’t Rahsaan making a power move. This wasn’t about business.

This was personal.

Someone had just made a very serious mistake.

I started the car and pulled out of the lot, my mind already shifting into a different mode. Not the cold calculation I used for business. Not the ruthless efficiency I applied to territory disputes.

This was something darker. Something more primal.

Someone had taken my right hand. And they were about to learn exactly what that cost.

As I drove through the empty streets of New Orleans, the city lights blurring past my windows, I felt the weight of everything pressing down on me. Truth. The baby. Kaisen in that hole. Winston’s manipulation. Yahmaria’s refusal to let go. Priest’s disappearance.

And now this.