12/29/2024
SNEEK PEEK
EMPIRE ESTATE
KING OF THE STREETS
The night bled shadows over the city, lights flickering through the skyscrapers like a heartbeat pulsing through the concrete jungle. Donovan Amari stood at the top of his penthouse, looking out over the skyline as if he owned the world. In a sense, he did. The empire he built from nothing stretched across this city. Clubs, record labels, real estate—his fingerprints were everywhere.
But power was a tricky thing. The higher you climbed, the thinner the air became, and Donovan was starting to feel suffocated.
His phone buzzed on the marble countertop, the screen illuminating the number that never failed to twist his gut. “Mom.” He hesitated, the tension in his jaw tightening. No matter how high he soared, she was always a reminder of where he’d come from—the crumbling projects, the hunger that gnawed at his insides, and the grind that never ended.
He silenced the call and turned back to the window. His brother, Lucious, was downstairs handling business—just another night of managing their vast criminal operations, another reminder that no matter how clean their legitimate enterprises looked on the outside, their foundation was built on dirty money and broken promises.
His empire was teetering on the edge.
As if on cue, Lucious stormed into the penthouse, his expression tight. “We got a problem.”
Donovan didn’t move, his eyes still locked on the city. “Tell me something new.”
Lucious approached him, his presence a storm cloud of anger and frustration. “It’s Nasir. He’s been moving product through our clubs behind our backs. If we don’t shut him down now, he’ll be running this city by next year.”
Donovan turned slowly, his face a mask of calm that concealed the fury boiling underneath. Nasir Reed had been a thorn in their side for months, his hunger for power too similar to Donovan’s own. But worse than the competition, Nasir had once been part of their circle. He knew too much. He had the kind of knowledge that could burn their empire to the ground.
Donovan strode toward his desk, pulling out a sleek, silver gun, laying it flat in his palm. “We rn
Lucious eyed him warily. “You sure about this? Nasir ain’t some small-time dealer. If we go after him, it’s war.”
Donovan’s voice was ice cold. “We’re already at war. It’s time to remind him who runs this city.”
Lucious ran a hand over his low cut, the tension in the room thickening. He respected Donovan, but this move felt reckless, even for him. Nasir wasn’t just a competitor; he had built his own army from the streets, loyal men who’d kill for him without hesitation. If they went after Nasir tonight, they would be stepping into a bloodbath. "We could find another way," Lucious suggested, his voice laced with caution. "Maybe we can negotiate. Hit him where it hurts financially, but not this…not yet."
Donovan’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the gun as if the weight of it anchored his resolve. "You think Nasir would offer us that same mercy if he had the chance? He's been cutting into our territory, taking our clients. He’s coming for everything, Lucious, and you know it." Donovan leaned forward, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "If we wait any longer, he'll be sitting in my chair. Your chair. You ready for that?"
Lucious clenched his jaw, the reality sinking in. Donovan was right. Nasir wasn’t the type to back down or play by any rules other than his own. The longer they let him breathe, the closer he got to wiping them out. Still, something about this felt off. There had to be a better way. But this wasn’t the time to second-guess Donovan’s leadership, not in front of the others. Not with the stakes this high. "I’ll get the men ready," Lucious finally said, his voice resigned. "But if this blows up, it’s on you."
