(A/N: Guys, I am SO extremely sorry for the long wait. Life got a little chaotic, and I needed to take a major pause. Thank you all for bearing with me, and thank you for continuing to support my stories! Please feel free to go back a chapter or two if you need a recap, I know it's been a while!)
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H A R L E M "BLACK" | COLLIERVILLE, TENNESSEE | EIGHT am
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"L-Look, fire and rescue got here as fast as they could, sir. By the time my team arrived on the scene, this was all that was left." Sheriff Porter kicked a small pile of ash. Ignoring his nervous rambling, I puffed on my blunt— calmly walking through the charred remains of my house. Rubble crunched beneath my feet and the acrid smell of burned furnishings permeated through the structure. I could practically taste the smoke in the air. The furniture was charred and the walls had been completely obliterated— all that remained was ash and the support beams of the house. Though the fire had been contained, thick smoke clouds still rolled up from the structure and could be seen for miles and miles. This wasn't no amateur job, that was for damn sure. The shit had caused immense destruction to my house and I knew it was damaged beyond repair. Burn baby burn. Greg's statement suddenly made more sense to me and it was obvious that the people I knew were responsible was working with him.
Even with that dire news looming over my head, it wasn't something I was too pressed about. The only thing that had me ready to go ape shit was the fact that my product had been stolen. Sheriff Porter had called me up about four-thirty this morning, delivering the news of my house being burned down. The entire time that I raced over, all I could think about was the weight I was stashing.
When I pulled up, I didn't even turn my car off. I'd hopped out and made a bee-line straight for my garage. Somehow, I just knew that my shit was gone. My gut proved my theory when I rushed to the side of the house to see my garage door up and two of my cars missing. What made shit worse is that those whips were jam packed with the drugs I'd planned on supplying to my workers from here to New York. I'd long surpassed copping my weight from other muthafuckas. I was head huncho now— numero uno. Niggas copped straight from me. With my Audi and BMW now missing, both of which were carrying weight that valued well over five million, I knew I'd have to put some blood on the street. Something that I never had much of a problem with anyway.
