Page 2 of Property of Chux

"Probably trying to decide if tonight’s the night he stops pretending we’re friends."

Mellow snorts. "That’d be a mistake."

"Yeah. It would." I smirk knowing I hate that motherfucker as much as he despises me.

A crash from across the room snaps my attention up.

Riot’s on his feet, a chair knocked over beside him. A thick-necked bastard I don’t recognize is sprawled on the floor, blood dripping from his busted nose.

I set my glass down. My brother is always short fused. This man is a stranger. The Velvet Hall is for locals only. Told Konstantin I wanted to make it members only. Fucker didn’t listen before, but now it’s no longer an option. When I want to go out and no business on the table, I mean it. A stranger here, like this, he wants something from the Kings no doubt in my mind.

Mellow appears at my side. “You said no business tonight.”

I sigh, “Yeah, well. Business just found us apparently.”

I make my way over, the music still pounding, the women still dancing like nothing is happening. That’s the thing about this place—violence is just background noise.

Riot flexes his hands, his knuckles raw. "This fucker thought he could talk shit."

The guy groans, rolling onto his side. He's not one of ours. Not one of Konstantin’s either. Which means he doesn’t belong and my brother clocked that within moments of his presence. Hence why he’s on the ground.

I crouch down, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking him up to eye level. "You got two seconds to explain why you’re here before I let Riot finish what he started."

His mouth opens, but whatever excuse he was about to spit out never comes.

Because that’s when the gunshots start.

Three, fast and sharp. One straight to this man’s head only inches from my damn hand.

The club erupts into chaos.

I drop the guy, spinning toward the entrance, pulling my piece from my back, as screams pierce the air. Gainz is already moving, gun drawn, his eyes cutting through the flashing lights.

“Get the fuck down!” I roar, scanning for my brothers as we all move to alert.

One night.

I just wanted one fucking night.

A woman screams, a table flips, and bodies scatter as more shots ring out. I shove past the scrambling dancers, my mind shifting into survival mode. Riot’s already got his gun out, Mellow too. But I don’t see the shooter yet.

Looney moves fast, clearing the distance between him and the entrance in seconds. “Outside!” he shouts, voice cutting through the noise. “Shooter’s outside!”

Well, that man better pray to whatever God he believes in that anyone gets to him before Looney does. His entire being is death and destruction. Crazy isn’t even the first stage of his level of insanity.

I push forward following the brothers in front of me as we all take Looney’s back. Outside the club, the night is thick with humidity, the air clinging to my skin. The streetlights cast long shadows, and in the distance, a car’s tires screech before peeling off into the night.

"Fuck," Riot curses, gun still raised. "They’re gone."

I lower my piece, exhaling through my nose. My mind is already working, already calculating. This wasn’t random. Someone wants to send a message. Why? Who? And do they realize how much I plan to wreck them? No one messes with my family.

I glance back at the club, at my brothers stepping out, guns in hand. My jaw tightens.

So much for a quiet fucking night.

Mellow steps up beside me. "What now, Pres?"

I flick the ash from my cigar, my stomach twisting with something I haven’t felt in a while.

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