THRID POINT OF VIEW
The warehouse was dim and cluttered, with workers sorting through piles of drugs.
One woman, barely dressed in rags, was carefully going through the mess while a few armed men watched closely, making sure no one tried to escape or cause trouble. The atmosphere felt tense and heavy.
Then, the door swung open, and two figures entered.
Polito. Stepped in first looking around, nodding and smiling, his silver-capped teeth catching the light. He was dressed in black, moving with a casual ease.
Behind him stood Onika in a suit and tie, a firearm at her side whilst a blunt hung from her lips. She looked angry, her eyes were fixed ahead, her expression hardened, as if the very air in the room irked her.
The atmosphere changed instantly—fear and respect mingled with the tension that had already been thick.
Polito looked around, taking it all in before he turned to Onika. "How long we stayin' here?" he asked, his voice rich with a Jamaican lilt.
Onika's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the workers and armed men in the warehouse. "Not long," she replied, her voice equally thick with the accent, but sharper. "Just long enough."
She shifted casually strolling deeper into the room. Gripping her gun on her side as she peered over woman's shoulders. They trembled as she moved but she didn't care. Each girl struggling to cut and split about the drugs with her near.
"Why we here though?" Polito raised his eyebrows, trying to pull Onika from her focus.
Onika's gaze lingered on a few workers who avoided making eye contact. "'Cause I've been busy, Polito," she replied, her tone tight.
Polito chuckled lightly, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Busy with what?"
Onika's jaw clenched, and for a moment, she seemed ready to explode. "You know what I've been doin'," she snapped. "Robyn ain't exactly easy to work with."
Polito's face darkened, his tone dropping to something more serious. "I told you, Onika, you shouldn't have gotten involved with her."
Onika's eyes flashed with anger as she turned toward him. "Doesn't matter now, Polito. It's in the past."
She stepped closer to him, her voice rising. "After tonight, I'm done with it. I'm breaking it off completely."
Polito sighed, shaking his head. "It ain't gonna be that easy. We need Robyn."
Onika stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him, her eyes burning.
"We don't need anyone but me!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the warehouse. The workers flinched, shrinking back from the sudden outburst.
Polito didn't flinch. He just shook his head, his voice calm but firm. "You'll learn eventually, Onika. You can't run it all by yourself."
Onika's glare could've cut glass, but she said nothing as she turned back and continued walking, the tension in the air thickening with every step. Suddenly right in front of her eyes a girl dropped one of the knives.
The room fell silent as she gasped, darting down to grab it but Onika beat her to it. She held the knife in her hand glaring down at the woman before her. She looked around the same age as Onika. She was skinny beautiful clear brown skin.
Onika stared intensely, tilting her head slightly, before opening her mouth to speak. Her tone was deep and authoritative. The young girl trembling as she bit into her bottom lip.
"Fuck you droppin shit for? Should I have made you be a stripper instead?" Onika questioned lowly causing the girl to gulp shaking her head no.
"Clearly you like to bend your ass over." She snarled gripping the girls arm. "Show me what you got come on."
The girl looked left and right searching for some kind of reassurance. Some kind of force to stop Onika from this behavior. But she wasn't going to get it from anywhere. The people in the warehouse, in the building worked for Onika Maraj.
So what she says goes.
The girl trembled, staring at the worker next to her who shared the space. Her mouth opened trying to say anything but nothing but a gasp came out. Onika gripping the girl tighter forcing her into the table.
"This is what they do to bitches who bend over." Onika explained, pressing her lower half against her back.
The girl gasped her head shifting back some. Onika gripped the girls chin getting real close to her ear. She held the girl tight making it impossible for her to break free.
"You're too pretty to be bent over. So stop dropping shit and do your fucking job." Onika demanded in a low tone forcefully letting the girl go.
"S-sorry." She whimpered brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She frantically got to work cutting and splitting apart the white powder.
Onika let her eyes linger longer than they should've. Her curiosity getting the better of her as she took a peak at the name tag at the front of her station.
Jhene.
She shifted on her feet again circling the workers once more. Mumbling insults under her breath each time they did something wrong. This is where she had the most control. This is where every detail mattered the most.
"What about Beyoncé?" Polito asked, his tone casual but with an underlying curiosity.
Onika paused in her steps, but didn't turn to face him immediately. Her eyes scanned the workers once more before she sighed, the frustration clear in the motion.
"She's at the house with Lauren and Jayda," she muttered, almost under her breath, her fingers tapping on a nearby crate.
She hated leaving her babygirl alone so she felt a little at peace knowing she wasn't exactly by herself. Jayda, Lauren, and India took a strong liking to Beyoncé. Onika just prayed they didn't get her in any trouble.
Polito raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with concern. "This the second time you've left her with them, Onika. Eventually, it'll change her."
Onika's shoulders stiffened, and she turned sharply to face him. Her voice was cold, cutting through the tension in the room.
"Mind your business, Polito. You don't know anything about it."
Polito didn't respond right away. He just stared at her, studying her, but Onika wasn't looking back. She was already turning away, walking deeper into the warehouse, as though the conversation didn't matter anymore.
But the edge in her tone told a different story. It was clear that she was running from something, and no amount of control over the workers here would stop the storm brewing inside her.
As she finished up her checks, her phone rang, vibrating violently in her pocket. The image on the screen made her pause.
Rihanna
Her brow furrowed. Why the hell was Rihanna calling now? Her fingers gripped the phone tighter, the irritation rising in her chest.
Onika swiped to answer, holding the phone up to her ear. Immediately, the sound of loud music blasted through the speaker, the unmistakable thump of bass as if they were at a club. Onika's patience snapped.
"Are you fucking dumb? You're back at that damn club?!" Rihanna's voice crackled through, slightly muffled by the noise in the background.
"Don't be mad at me I- I have nothing else to look forward to, you have her and I-." Onika sighed loudly, this needed to be stopped.
"I'll come okay, stop talking I'll come." She sighed hanging up the phone. Glancing up she could see the look on her uncles face.
"Bad idea, Nikki bad idea."
"I know." She mumbled pushing through the warehouse doors.
-
thoughts?
Juthescisntist
