"Princess & the Plug": Read Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Killian

Later that night…

The warehouse Maxwell told us to meet him at was a beast of concrete and steel, nestled within the belly of the city.

Its vast emptiness intensified my unease, a feeling of dread that twisted my gut and whispered warnings in my ear. But it was too late to back out no matter what I was feeling.

It was the night of the drop, and we were supposed to be meeting up with Maxwell Russo and his right hand, but while we came early to scope out the scene in advance, they were significantly late.

“Where the fuck are they?” Jalen’s growl bounced off the cold, hard walls.

He paced the room, each step echoing with the ticking of our mental clocks. We were waiting to complete the drop, but the eerie silence was beginning to feel like the calm before a storm.

Before I could respond, a low hum invaded our silence. Engines, multiple, approaching from the water side. My instincts screamed ‘danger’, a shout that echoed in my bones. I crossed the space to the grime-coated window, my gaze focusing on the four boats docking, each swarming with armed men.

“Damn it, Jalen, it’s a fucking ambush.” I couldn’t keep the snarl out of my voice, my hands clenched into fists. “They’re not here for business, they’re here for a heist.”

A soft curse filled the air, Jalen joining me by the window. His eyes widened at the sight, panic flickering in their depths. “But Maxwell promised…” He began, his words trailing off as the harsh reality set in.

I shook my head, frustration gnawing at me. “The only thing you can trust a snake to do is shed its skin, Jalen. I knew we shouldn’t have done this.” I hated the ‘I told you so’ moment, especially when our lives were on the line.

Before we could plan our next move, the warehouse entrance burst open. Men, armed to the teeth, swarmed in, their faces masked, intentions clear. This was a set-up, a betrayal by a man who Jalen shouldn’t have ever trusted.

“Jalen, down!” I managed to bark, just as the first shots rang out.

The barely audible, muffled sound ricocheted as they shot at us through the barrel of silenced weapons. We scrambled for cover, I dove behind a crate, the cold metal a pathetic shield against the storm of bullets.

From my cover, I saw him. Maxwell, emerging from behind the men, a victorious smirk on his face. The motherfucker had played us.

Maxwell’s voice cut through the chaos, his words delivering a chilling message. “Killian, I know you’re alive. Your brother was hit but he still breathes. If you want that to continue, you’ll listen to me.”

My breath caught up in my chest. Jalen was hit. It took every bit of my available willpower and strength to stop myself from jumping up and blasting any and everybody my gun could spray, but I reasoned with myself that doing it would be suicide. Even still, I knew I needed to get to Jay.

“What do you want?” I yelled out, squeezing my eyes closed. I hated the fact that I even had to work with him. “You’ve got everything here. Just go and let me get to my brother.”

“My men have already gathered everything we came for. But I know you still have someone waiting out front for you to give the call that everything is clear. Call him off and then we will leave. Your brother might still live if you get to him in time.”

I gritted my teeth, my options dwindling. The alternative was death, for all of us if I didn’t comply. Slowly, I stepped out, hands held high, my gaze locked on Maxwell.

“You win,” was all I said. “I’ll give the all clear signal. You and your men will be free to move through.”

“Good decision,” he said, winking at me before he waltzed away.

His laughter echoed in the now quiet warehouse as I dialed Dom.

“What the fuck is going on?” he answered as soon as the call came in. “What’s with all these niggas I see outside moving in?”

“Let Maxwell go and get in here fast. Jalen’s down. Shit went bad and he got hit.”

Ending the call, my next move was to run over to Jalen. Although I wanted to empty my clip in Maxwell’s back, I let him live for another day, knowing I would handle him soon. And once that happened, hell would seem like paradise by the time I was finished with him.

At Jalen’s side, I let out a breath of relief once I saw that he was still breathing. The shots were in his side and I said a prayer that they had missed all major organs and arteries.

Time stood still as I waited, the bloody image of my brother burned into my retinas. Dom’s arrival brought movement behind me and I turned, seeing his dark brown face appearing to go ashen gray at the sight of our brother.

Moving quickly, we gathered Jalen and sped away from the warehouse, the stench of betrayal heavy in the air but, at the moment, we had a much pressing issue. Jalen was bleeding heavily. He needed help.

Our car hurtled down the streets of Atlanta, the roaring of the engine seeming to fall in sync with the frantic beat of my heart. As I mashed my foot against the pedal. Jalen lay seemingly lifeless in the backseat, his shirt a dark, crimson red. Dom’s hand pressed against the wound in an attempt to help, but the blood flowed like a relentless tide.

“Keep your hand there, Dom!” I growled, fear fraying the edges of my voice.

My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel, eyes flickering between the rearview mirror and the road ahead. The reality of my brother’s situation ignited a fire of panic in my chest, each passing second only further stoking the flames.

“I am, Killian!” Dom’s voice reverberated through the confined space. His hand, stained red, moved with frantic purpose. “But the blood... it ain’t stopping! We need help. Quick!”

I could feel the words lodged in my throat, struggling to make sense of the chaos around us.

“We need a doctor,” I gasped out, the cold weight of the truth pressing on my chest.

“And how do you suggest we get one? We gonna strut into a hospital, all casual-like, carrying our brother who has a fresh fuckin’ bullet lodged in him?” Dom shot back, his raw fear morphing into hot frustration. His words punched through the air, landing with a thud in the silence of the car. “How are we gonna explain that? We might as well turn ourselves in.”

He was right. Our lives were a constant game of cat and mouse with law enforcement, a dangerous dance we had perfected over the years. But this wasn’t a game, and it wasn’t a dance. It was Jalen’s life.

“We can’t just let him die, Dom!” I found myself yelling, each word an echo of my fear.

“And who’s saying that, Kill? But we can’t just walk into the hospital with him like this. That’s a fuckin trap!” Dom retorted, his fear, anger, and desperation all mingling together to create a cocktail of panic.

But we had to do something. Anything.

And then, a spark. An idea that threatened to burn our world down.

“I...I know what to do,” I stammered out, my voice a hoarse whisper.

Dom turned towards me, his eyes wide with terror, his mind pleading for a solution. “Spit it out, Kill! We ain’t got all night!”

“We have to go to Emory,” I said, my voice barely more than a rasp.

Dom froze, his disbelief palpable. “Emory? Are you out of your damn mind, Kill? They’ll call the cops before we even pull into the lot.”

I met Dom’s gaze in the rearview mirror, my own reflection a ghastly image in the dim light. But we were out of options, backed into a corner. All we had was this last-ditch, desperate play. It was a Hail Mary pass, a shot in the dark.

But it was all we had left.

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