Chapter 6 · free to read
No army. No father's blessing. Just a dead rival's phone and a gun that wasn't mine.
They didn't want money. They wanted the one thing my father guarded with a fake corpse.
The mark repeated on every crate. A peacock. Not a street gang's scrawl — a brand. A house.
I couldn't give them my father's real routes. So I gave them a beautiful, poisoned lie.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.