The next morning, Darius sat at the kitchen table in Mo’s apartment, a job application in one hand and a Glock in the other.


Both were loaded.


Both could change his future.


Mo paced in front of the stove, phone pressed to his ear, nodding hard as he whispered into the line.


Darius wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but he caught pieces.


“…Yeah, he think he out… nah, he don’t even know we moved the drop spot… just keep it low until we clear the count…”


When Mo hung up, Darius asked, “That about me?”


Mo smirked. “Don’t flatter yourself, bro. Business don’t stop just ‘cause you on your lil redemption arc.”


Darius clenched his jaw. “So you movin’ without telling me now?”


Mo shrugged. “You said you were done. We handling it.”


Darius stood slowly. “We used to move as a unit.”


“And now you wanna be a father of the year. That’s cool, but don’t expect the block to freeze just ‘cause you tryna thaw out.”


The tension thickened like smoke.


Darius looked at the gun on the table.


Then at the form in his hand.


He made his choice.


Left the gun.


Took the paper.


And walked out.


That afternoon, he showed up to the reentry office in slacks and a hoodie—his version of trying.


Marla looked him over. “You look nervous.”


“I am.”


“Good,” she said. “Means you’re taking it serious.”


The interview was with a concrete supplier looking for laborers. Hard work. Low pay. Early mornings.


But legal.


Afterward, Darius waited outside for the call.


He checked his phone.


A message from Maya.


Maya:

Zaire wants you to come to his school thing next Friday. If you want to.


His heart dropped into his stomach.


Darius:

I’ll be there. Tell him I said I love him.


No reply.


Didn’t matter.


That was the first time she’d offered.


The first time she trusted him with something that mattered.


And he wasn’t gonna mess that up.


That night, he walked past the corner Mo used to run.


It was empty.


But something in the air felt off.


He reached his building, unlocked the front door, and found a slip of paper taped to it.


“You gettin’ soft. We see you. Don’t forget where you from.”


No signature.


No threats.


Just a reminder.


The kind that made loyalty feel like a curse.