In the gritty streets of Harlem, where loyalty is everything and danger lurks around every corner, two seemingly perfect couples, Krystal and Shakur, live a life of wealth and allure. Married for two years, they present a polished image to the world...
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CHAPTER FIVE
Shakur stood on his marble foyer, eyeing the black package left at his doorstep. The box was heavy, covered in thick chains, and even before he opened it, he knew it was something twisted.
He gritted his teeth, ripping the chains off.
Inside, wrapped in clear plastic and nestled in ice, was the severed head of his mistress. Her lifeless eyes were wide, mouth twisted in a scream. The sight would've shocked most men, but Shakur merely raised an eyebrow. He hadn't loved her. She was a lie, a comfortable lie, a necessary release to take his mind off the chaos of his double life.
But Krystal... Krystal had used her as a message to get under his skin.
A low laugh escaped his throat, and something darkened in his gaze. He clenched his fist, the nails biting into his palm until he could feel the sting.
He stared blankly at the severed head, but his mind was elsewhere, locked onto the revelation that had shaken him to his core. Kash was Krystal. His wife, the woman he vowed to share his life with, was his greatest enemy; the very person he'd been plotting to take down for years.
He clenched his fists, the skin stretching white over his knuckles as the full weight of it settled in.
She'd been out there in the same streets as he was. And all this time, he'd seen her as nothing more than a woman with pretty words and a normal life, oblivious to the danger of his world. He couldn't have been more wrong.
The betrayal felt like a knife twisting in his gut. Not once had he questioned her. She was the enemy he'd been looking for, all along.
Shakur's jaw tightened as he looked down at his mistress's cold, lifeless face. The woman had meant nothing to him.
The message was clear though. She wanted him to know that she was every bit as ruthless as he was.
"Fine," he said lowly, barely able to contain the seething anger in his voice. "You wanted a monster, Krystal? You about to get one."
He couldn't deny it any longer. She was everything he'd wanted to destroy, and now, his wife had to become his prey.
An hour later, Shakur sat alone in his basement, the lights dimmed, tools laid out on a steel table. In front of him, bound and gagged, was Ghost; the man he'd just discovered had betrayed him. Ghost used to run in Shakur's circle until he got cut out, yet Shakur had spared him out of some misguided mercy. Now, he realized the man had been feeding information to Krystal all along.
Ghost's face was bruised, his eyes swollen shut.
"You think I'm stupid nigga?" Shakur's voice was low and deep. "Thought I wouldn't find out you were giving information to Kash?"
Ghost shook his head violently, as he whimpered, struggling against the restraints, but Shakur's cold smile only widened.
He smirked, unfazed by the pleading. "I ain't interested in excuses, Ghost. You know that. You wanted to run both sides. Now you gon get what's comin'."
