Deadly Conclusions

Juma’s body still lay sprawled across the marbled floor, blood leaking like ink from a broken pen. It slithered past the cracks in the tile, weaving toward their feet — thick, metallic, and impossibly red. The smell was chocking.

Zuri let out a sharp shriek as it reached her shoes. She stumbled back, tears streaming down her face as if trying to wash away the image burned into her brain. Her breaths were jagged, gasps struggling for air in between sobs. JC pulled her close, wiping the tears from her cheeks with shaking hands, but there were too many.

Musa stood frozen, staring at the expanding puddle of blood as if trying to see Juma's spirit rise from it.

“He… killed him,” Musa muttered, his voice barely audible over the pounding silence.

Eazy said something to him. But all he heard was a high-pitched ringing. It swallowed everything — the room, the noise, even his breath. Behind that sound came a whisper. Juma’s voice, “Now you look like one of us.”

He remembered that day —when a small boy stole his food. His first night in that cell, how it smelled but when he woke up, he had gained a friend. Even though Juma was younger than him, he learned a lot from him, how to survive in the streets. Musa owed a lot to him and always considered him an important friend. But now he was gone, gone forever. 

A single tear slid down Musa’s cheek — a last, silent offering to the boy who’d never see daylight again.

Zengo sat lazily, his legs crossed on top of the man-chair’s back. He plucked a grape from the silver plate beside him and popped it into his mouth.

“Ugh. Bring me the sweet ones,” he snapped. “These taste like ass.”

He spat the chewed grape on the ground beneath the man-chair.

“Clean that up,” he ordered.

The man trembling struggled to move his hands, Zengo’s full weight oppressing him. His only option was his tongue.

He leaned forward, grimacing, licking the dirty floor and half-chewed grape matter while the room watched in silence.

Zengo waved his gold-plated pistol lazily at Juma’s corpse.

“This,” he said, “is what happens when people forget who built the roads they walk on.”

He snapped his fingers. “Pick up that trash.”

Three large men entered from the side hall — shirtless, arms wrapped in white cloth with red veins inked into their skin. Their muscles rippled like taut cables as they moved toward Juma’s body.

They didn’t show respect. No pause. No sorrow. They grabbed him like cargo, wrapping his face with bleached linen, binding his hands and ankles with thick braided rope made from animal tendon and cloth fused with ash.

His lifeless limbs flopped loosely as they prepared to lift him.

Before they could finish, Eazy stepped forward.

He dropped to his knees, the hem of his trousers soaking in the blood.

“Please…” His voice cracked. “We’ll take care of it.”

Zengo cocked his head, examining him like a rat caught in mid-scurry. Then he gave a disinterested wave. The men backed off.

“Fine,” he said. “And the necklace?”

His eyes turned cold. “I know it sounds like I’m asking, Eazy… but I’m not. The necklace…now.”

Eazy looked back over his shoulder. His jaw tightened.

“Zuri… give it to him.”

Zuri nodded, trembling. She lifted her dress slightly, revealing a stitched inner pocket. From it, she pulled a corded necklace — an intertwined gold, sapphire and blood-red rubies. Faint lines glowed across its surface like veins pulsing under skin.

She threw it across the floor with shaking fingers.

It skittered across the marble and stopped at Zengo’s feet with a sharp metallic clink.

Zengo knelt slowly, picked it up, and sniffed it with a twisted grin.

“Mm. Tastes like old blood,” He chuckled. “I don’t mind antiquities, but next time, hide it somewhere less... intimate.” He gave a mocking glance at Zuri’s midsection and laughed.

He returned to his seat, sinking into the man-chair, who let out a breath of pain beneath him.

“Well done, Eazy. It’s unfortunate things had to go this way… but cheer up. The worst is over. Let’s talk business.”

A young girl entered — no older than fifteen. Her eyes flickered to Juma’s corpse and she froze for a second before looking down again. She carried another silver plate of grapes, her fingers trembled slightly.

“Ah, thank you, Shantel.” Zengo smiled and patted her thigh. She smiled softly.

“Don’t worry about the mess, sweetie. My men will mop it up soon enough.”

He grabbed her face, held her chin gently and kissed her mouth slowly before licking the side of her cheek like a predator marking his territory. She didn’t flinch or show any bother. She’d learned not to.

“Sit sweetie,” he said pulling her onto his lap.

The man-chair buckled slightly at the extra weight, his hands shaky.

“Steady, boy,” Zengo muttered, kicking the man in the ribs.

The he plucked a grape and fed it to Shantel before finally turning his attention to Eazy.

“I want you to come work for me again.”

Eazy stood sharply. “What?”

Zengo raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Easy, Eazy. Just hear me out first before you turn me down. Things’ve been good for me since we split. Real good. And I hear you’ve been eating well too. But what I’m offering, is something bigger. My First Blood has all of Westie on lock now — and we’re not done expanding.”

He swept his arm gesturing around him dramatically.

“This mansion? Remember who it belonged to? That fucking Minister who spatted on my face just because I asked for payment after providing my services. Now…” He grinned. “His bones are beneath this very building as we speak.”

He lifted Shantel like she weighed nothing and stepped off the man-chair, hopping over Juma’s body like it was debris and slung an arm around Eazy’s shoulder.

“Come on, man. It will be just like old times. You and me? Like Batman and Robin. Let’s take the rest of the country. All of it!”

Eazy shrugged him off.

“What do you mean ‘all of it’? Things have changed. We can’t just takeover like last time. And even then we had help from influential figures. Not to mention the countless ADU that are under their leaders payrolls.”

Zengo's eyes gleamed. “What if I told you we got it al figured out?”

He nodded toward Otis.

““I’ve got a mole in every major crew. Feeding me intel. Locations, weaknesses and power shifts. Like I heard Frances succeeded Ngugi in the North after she passed. It was a beautiful ceremony, she asked about you actually.. You should give her a call sometimes.”

“If you have everything, then why do you need me?” Eazy asked.

“You are right. I know who’s moving product, who’s stealing from who, who’s making deals with the ADU. Even the government killings. I know it all Eazy. And I’ve already started moving. But what I need — is you.”

Eazy’s fists clenched, but he hid his anger behind a calm façade. His eyes flicked to the gold-plated pistol — still tucked loosely in Zengo’s short-shorts. It would be easy. One second. Bang. He could shoot him in the face. Even Otis too. He could take a few more men before they reacted.

But the risk was too high.

His friends, his family were here. And after what happened to Juma, he couldn’t risk anything going wrong. He had to keep a cool head of they were going to survive this mad man.

Zengo leaned in closer, whispering now.

“This is destiny, Eazy. You being here? It’s not by chance — it’s a divine intervention. That youngblood’s …well blood…that’s our bond now. And look Otis, is good, more than good even but he doesn’t have your mind. He’s not you. We’re standing on the precipice of a new era, a bloodline. A family. That’s what I want to build, a single flag under which every crew in the entirety of 254 kneels under.”

He held out a hand, almost tenderly.

“You helped me do it once. Help me do it again. Help me take the whole fucking city.”

FURTHER INFO ABOUT CHAPTER

Haiezi make = It won’t work

Westie = nickname for Westlands