Locked Up

Chapter Eight

Twain "King" Wilson
After continuing our walk and getting some food, we drove back over to the crib. We talked and laughed while Duke chilled in the back seat. I could tell she was real excited about our trip. I would be too if we weren't discussing-

"Twain, why's your gate open?" Kehlani asked. My big gate that guarded my house was open and at the end was a car parked in front of my house. I immediately grabbed my gun out of the glove compartment and looked to Kehlani. "Stay-"

"Twain I'm strapped you know that. Now let's go." She hopped out the car and waited for me. She doesn't know the shit I'm involved with...

After getting out and shutting our doors quietly, we walked slowly around the side of the house with our guns drawn and continued until we were at the back. I unlocked the door, and we made our way inside. She went left and I told her to be careful. I veered right and checked rooms individually. I tried to keep my heart rate down as I went through each one. Living room. Empty. Kitchen. Empty. Finally I came to my office where the door was slightly ajar. I crept towards it slowly and listened for any movement. Kehlani caught up to me and saw my suspicions of who was behind the door. She nodded and held her gun up ready to take aim. I stood to the side and shoved the door open, causing it to slam against the wall. The hinges cracked as it made contact. I jumped in front of Kehlani training my eyes on the man sitting in the chair. "What are you doing back here and how did you get back inside my house?" I asked calmly.

"Twain, Twain, Twain. Put the gun down. No need for that," he smiled. I walked closer towards him and shoved the barrel against his forehead. "Easy son."

"I'm not gon' ask you again! Who the fuck are you? And I want a damn answer this time! Not you hoppin back in your ride and drivin off like you ain't got no damn sense!" I gritted.

"I'm your father."

Xavier "X" Wilson
I stood and watched all of the workers at one of the trap houses. Twain had put me in charge of things until he handled some bullshit. Typical.

My brother has always been the center of everything. Both of our parents loved him more, he was the perfect son. For as long as I can remember I've been casted in his shadow. Ever since our father introduced us to the streets and the way of the drug game, it's only gotten worse. Not only has he taken my spot as right hand man, he will most likely take pops spot when he's done. The spot that I've worked so hard for. I don't understand why he would come up in here and take everything I've worked so fucking hard for. I deserve the throne to the Wilson Empire. It was all I had left.

After making sure everything was in order, I check the money stacks in the safe. I was hoping it was all there because if any of its missing, that means it's one of our own. And that means a nigga didn't have respect for this Empire. And that is death in itself. I counted up and we were down twenty G's. Running my hands down my face, I sighed. So a nigga thought he could steal and get away with that shit? Guess we gon' have to fix that. I walked back out and called everyone into the main room. They all stood in a line waiting for orders. I built this shit.

"So, imma say this once and I damn sure will not repeat myself. When I find out who's been taking from us, not only will I chop off your dick and make you suck it yourself since you wanna be a bitch, imma feed it to the dogs and make you watch. Barely hanging onto your pathetic life. Do I make myself clear?" My voice boomed. They all nodded and scattered. I walked out to my Benz and hopped in. My phone began ringing in my lap and I answered.

"Hello?" I asked annoyed.

"Hey... I'm sorry I didn't mean to bother you."

"I'm sorry ma I'm just stressed that's all. You straight?"