At the tender age of seven, I became a victim of a tragic incident that tore my world apart. Witnessing the brutal murder of my parents, I was thrust into a life governed by circumstances beyond my control. My uncle, driven by a sense of duty, took...
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The next day, I woke up early, realizing it was a Saturday and I had no school to attend. I decided to dress in a sleek black Armani suit, paired with black stilettos. I tied my hair back in a plaited ponytail, giving myself a professional yet fierce look. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was already 6:45 am, so I quickly sent a text to Raphe, instructing him to bring the car around. I also messaged Raven and Sage, letting them know to be ready when the car arrived.
As I made my way downstairs, I noticed that Griffey was still asleep. Not surprising, considering his late-night activities. I could hear moaning and giggling coming from my uncle's room, indicating that he was awake but likely incapacitated in some way. Ignoring the commotion, I headed towards the room where my uncle kept his arsenal of weapons.
The weapon room was almost as large as the product room, but far less organized. Shelves were lined with boxes of ammunition, and knives adorned the walls like morbid decorations. I approached the chest of drawers, where the guns were securely locked away. Retrieving my key, I opened a few drawers, carefully inspecting the firearms.
While we weren't involved in large-scale deals with firearms traffickers, we had our own means of obtaining weapons. Our usual channels provided us with pistols, revolvers, shotguns, and occasionally semi-automatic submachine guns. However, assault rifles were a different story. Those we had to acquire through theft, which was typically orchestrated by the lower-ranking gang members. They targeted the local navy base, where the undertrained personnel were tasked with patrolling and safeguarding the armory from local gang raids. It might sound unbelievable, but in the Cape Flats, the power of the gangsters often surpassed that of the local police.
Running my fingers over the shotguns, I ultimately settled on the reliable Glock 19. After loading the gun and securely stowing away the Glock 19, I exited the house and approached the waiting car. Raphe, ever the vigilant driver, opened the door for me, his expression unreadable. As I settled into the backseat, I took a moment to compose myself before reaching out to Sage and Raven.
With a few taps on my phone, I sent a message to both of them, informing them of the new developments. Their responses were immediate and filled with shock. They couldn't believe that I now had a personal driver, let alone the fact that I was taking them to spa treatments for the morning and afternoon. It was a stark contrast to the dangerous world we were accustomed to, and I could see the mix of surprise and delight in their eyes when I arrived to pick them up.
We spent the day indulging in luxury, enjoying the pampering treatments, and allowing ourselves a temporary respite from the harsh reality of our lives. As the sun began to set, I dropped them off at their respective homes, knowing they would eagerly share the day's events with their loved ones.
Returning to my own thoughts, I received a text message from Ismail. It was time to meet one of his contacts at a downtown nightclub. This contact had once dealt with my uncle but now had a vested interest in seeing Franky removed from the picture. Curiosity and a hint of apprehension tugged at me as I contemplated the meeting. The rebel gang, responsible for my parents' demise, would be involved. It took all my restraint to resist the immediate urge to eliminate the contact, but I knew I had to play my cards carefully.
