The car smells like leather and Nina's perfume.
Steely sits in the back seat, staring out the window. His jaw is tight. His hands rest on his knees, fingers tapping nervously.
The driver navigates through Southside's streets toward MK-Block. Markus's territory.
Steely rubs his face hard. Like he's trying to scrub away the stress.
Fuck.
He's been stressed ever since he made the decision. Ever since he betrayed Jack.
The word sits heavy in his chest. Betrayed.
It wasn't supposed to feel like this. It was supposed to feel like survival. Like evolution. Like taking what was his.
But it doesn't. It feels like shit.
Steely closes his eyes. He thinks about the offshore accounts. Jack's offshore accounts. The ones Jack trusted him with.
Liquid money. Millions.
Steely had stolen most of it. Used it to buy loyalty. To pay Jack's men to follow him instead.
And it worked. Seventy percent of Jack's organization deserted. Joined Steely's faction. The Rebels.
But Steely knows the truth. Most of them don't follow him because they believe in him. They follow him because of the money.
Once that runs out, they'll go right back to Jack. Or worse. They'll go to Cage.
Steely swallows hard.
A hand rests on his arm. Warm. Gentle.
He looks to his left. Nina is there. Beautiful. Dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes are soft. Concerned.
She was the ace sex worker at King's Paradise. The top earner. The one every client wanted.
But over the months, Steely had fallen in love with her. And she with him.
That was the other reason he betrayed Jack. The real reason.
Jack would never let go of his top earner. Never.
So Steely took her. Took the money. Took the men.
"What's wrong?" Nina asks softly.
Steely grabs her hand. Brings it to his lips. Kisses it.
"Nothing, my love," he says. "Just tired is all."
Nina's expression doesn't change. She knows he's lying.
"I can give you a massage when we get back home," she says.
Steely's lips curl into a faint smile. He grabs her hips. Pulls her closer.
"I'm going to get more than a massage," he murmurs.
Nina blushes. She leans into him.
The driver clears his throat.
"We've arrived, sir," he says.
Steely looks out the window.
***
The street is alive.
Music blasts from speakers on someone's porch. Heavy bass. Hip-hop. The kind that rattles car windows.
Kids are running around. Riding bikes. Laughing. Shouting.
A group of men are playing basketball in the street. Shirts versus skins. They're sweating. Trash-talking. Having fun.
On Markus's front yard, a few guys are tossing a football. Casual. Relaxed.
People are sitting on their porches. Smoking. Drinking. Watching the block.
It's lively. Vibrant. Normal.
Steely stares. It's completely different from the suffocating, serious atmosphere that Jack carries around him.
Jack's presence is like a storm cloud. Heavy. Oppressive. Everyone walks on eggshells.
But this? This feels like a neighborhood. A community.
Steely steps out of the car. His two men follow.
The guys throwing the football stop immediately. They turn. Eyes sharp. Assessing.
They're wearing tank tops. Jeans. Timber boots. Guns tucked into their waistbands.
They walk toward Steely. Slow. Deliberate.
One of them takes the cigarette out of his mouth. Flicks the ash onto the grass.
"What you doing on our block?" he asks.
His voice is rough. Unfriendly.
Steely puts his hands up. Palms out.
"I don't want any trouble," he says.
The man on the left looks Steely up and down. His eyes linger on the suit. Expensive. Tailored.
He scoffs.
"Last time you fancy pants gangsters came on our block, y'all almost started a fucking war," he says. "Trying to sell poison drugs to our people."
Steely shakes his head.
"That was Jack," he says. "Not me."
The man narrows his eyes.
"Ain't that the same thing?"
The atmosphere shifts. The music gets lower. Not off. Just quieter.
The people playing basketball stop. They turn. Watch.
Mothers start calling their kids inside. The men on the porches stand. Hands moving toward their waistbands.
Steely's men put their hands on their guns.
Steely gestures sharply. Waves them off.
"Look, man," Steely says. "I just want to talk to Markus."
"Hell naw," one of them says. "He ain't got time to be talking to fancy pants gangsters."
The front door to Markus's house opens. Markus steps out. Shirtless. His chest is broad. Muscular. Hairy.
"What the hell is going on out here?" he shouts.
One of the men turns.
"The fancy gangsters are back," he says. "Must be Jack trying to sell again."
Markus looks at Steely from his porch. His eyes narrow.
Then he calls out.
"You dumb motherfuckers," he says to his man. "You ain't heard? That motherfucker is Steely. He betrayed Jack after he got locked up."
The man turns back to Steely. His face twists in disgust.
"You a rat!" he spits.
"No, dumbass," Markus yells. "He's just a fucking traitor."
The words hit Steely like a punch to the gut.
Traitor.
It's one of the worst things you can be branded in the underworld. A stain you can never remove. Like lost credit that will never go back up.
But it was the choice he made. He has to live with it.
Markus waves his hand.
"Let him in," he says. "Let's hear what he has to say."
He turns back toward the house.
"And turn back up the damn music," he adds.
The music gets louder again. The bass thumps.
Steely walks past the two men. They eye him the whole way. One of them spits in the grass beside him.
"I need a fucking beer," Steely hears one of them mutter.
His men stay by the car. Steely and Nina walk up the steps. Into the house.
***
Inside, the house smells like food. Something cooking. Spices. Garlic.
The living room is modest. A couch. A recliner. A TV playing a soccer game on mute.
Hela is on the couch. Lying on her side. Her hand rests on her swollen belly.
A short, striking woman with jet black hair and caramel skin is behind her. Massaging her lower back.
"Ouch!" Hela says, trying to sit up.
The woman pulls her back down.
"Sit still," she says firmly.
Hela snaps back.
"How about you stop parenting like you know what you're doing?"
The woman's jaw tightens.
"This is how my mother got rid of back soreness during pregnancy," she says.
Hela rests her hand on her stomach.
"No wonder you came out so crooked," she mutters.
"You know they say you pussy becomes loose after childbirth. How ever will you find a man with your attitude alone."
Hela smirks. "That won't be a problem. The father has enough girth to fit through a train tunnel."
Yola rolls her eyes. "Have some manners we have guests."
Steely is confused and slightly disturbed by the conversation. Is Hela pregnant?
Markus comes back from the kitchen. He's holding two beers. Condensation drips down the bottles.
"Don't mind them," he says to Steely. "The beautiful one is my girl, Yola."
"Hey, I'm beautiful," she said.
"Only sometimes, cousin," Markus said.
Steely turns to Nina. "This is girlfriend Nina."
Yola glances at Nina. Gives her a nod.
Nina nods back.
Markus offers Steely one of the beers.
Steely shakes his head.
"I'm good," he says.
Markus's expression hardens.
"No one refuses a beer in my house," he says.
Steely hesitates. Then he takes it.
He takes a sip. It's cold. Bitter.
Markus takes the soccer game off mute. He settles into his recliner. Kicks his feet up.
"So," he says. "What could you possibly be driving all the way into my block for?"
Steely sets the beer down on the coffee table. He glances at the girls.
Markus follows his gaze.
"The girls are just as much part of the gang as I am," Markus says. "Anything you say in front of me, you can say in front of them."
Steely hesitates. He's not sure how to approach this. How to ask for what he needs without sounding desperate.
But then he just does it.
"I want to form an alliance," he says.
Markus raises an eyebrow.
"An alliance," he repeats. "With a traitor?"
Steely's jaw tightens.
"Cage's faction is growing," he says. "It won't be long until he encroaches on your block. When that time comes, I promise to help you. In return, you help me solidify my place. My reputation."
Markus takes a long swig of his beer. He sets it down on the armrest.
"I see what you want," he says. "You want an alliance so that I use my good, hard earned reputation to help you get rid of the traitor brand in the streets?"
Steely opens his mouth to respond. But Nina steps in.
"Steely is more than a traitor," she says. Her voice is firm. Defensive. "He didn't want to betray Jack. But in order to save the Kingsmen gang, he had to step up. Otherwise, Jack was going to keep leading them into more suffering. Like he did during the first assault. Where Steely lost good men over a dumb, rushed plan."
Markus looks at her for a long moment. Then he looks back at Steely.
"Is that why you call yourselves the Rebels?" he asks. "Quite a telling name, if you ask me."
There's a moment of silence. Outside, kids cheer about something. A goal. A trick on a bike.
Markus picks up the remote.
"Sorry," he says. "I can't help you."
He starts turning the volume up on the TV.
Steely feels the humiliation rise in his chest. Hot. Sharp.
"You need me," he says.
Markus pauses. Looks at him.
"You might be respected," Steely continues. "And that's why no one messes with you. But Cage is not from Southside. He doesn't give a shit about how respected you are. Or the underworld politics here."
Markus shrugs.
"I'll deal with that when it comes," he says.
Steely's voice rises.
"You think you can deal with Cage?" he asks. Disdain drips from every word. "The only reason Jack didn't destroy your little block is because of a long-ago debt he felt he owed. Without that, you and your friendly little neighborhood would have been turned into a crack block."
Markus's face turns cold. The temperature in the room drops.
He sets the remote down slowly.
"Are you trying to be like Jack now?" he asks.
His voice is quiet. Dangerous.
Steely scoffs.
"Why would I be trying to be like Jack?" he says. "Jack is gone. He's nothing now. I made it that way."
Hela lets out a snort. Everyone turns to her.
She's laughing. Her shoulders shake.
"Oh, honey," she says. "Do you really think Jack won't be coming for you?"
Steely furrows his brows.
"Coming for me with what?" he asks. "Remnants of his ruined kingdom? The side taken by Cage or the other taken by me?"
Hela's smile widens.
"All you've ever seen is a Jack fueled by love," she says. "A Jack fueled by hate is a different person entirely."
She pauses.
"Sexier."
Yola smacks her playfully on the arm. Hela laughs.
"What?" she says. "You know it's true."
Yola rolls her eyes.
Steely clenches his fists.
"I'm not afraid of him," he says.
Hela's smile fades.
"You should be," she says.
Steely is about to clap back. But Markus interrupts.
"You've overstayed your welcome," he says.
Steely turns to him.
"You really won't align with me?" he asks.
Markus's expression doesn't change.
"I've made my choice," he says.
Steely stares at him. The realization hits him like a freight train.
Markus doesn't respect him. No mob boss probably respects him. Hell, probably his own men think the same of him.
He clenches his fist. His nails dig into his palm.
He turns and walks toward the door.
Fucking Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack.
Even after he went to jail. Even after his empire was taken.
Jack is all he hears.
Nina puts a hand on his shoulder as they step outside.
"It's okay," she says softly. "We'll find a way to solidify your place."
Steely doesn't respond. He walks down the steps. Past Markus's men. They're still watching him.
One of them spits again.
Steely gets into the car. The door slams shut.
The driver pulls away from the curb.
Steely stares out the window. His jaw is tight. His hands are shaking.
Jack.
Always fucking Jack.