5

BIG KAI

WEEKS LATER…

“The land is well over a hundred acres. Plenty for whatever project you have in mind,” Jordan said, pointing at the projected images on the screen.

I sat at the head of the meeting table, my gaze flicking between the projector and Mr. Smith, a middle-aged white man in a crisp blue suit seated next to me.

“I’m planning an amusement park,” he said.

“High scale or low scale?” Imani asked, sitting to my left, glasses perched on her nose, her professional tone sharp.

“High scale. Hotel, event center—the works.”

“You’ve got the perfect acreage then,” Imani said with a nod.

I nodded at Mr. Smith, eyes still scanning the images.

Jordan continued, but my attention was pulled to my phone. Reeko had sent pictures of some battered white men—men bold enough to try exploiting a family in the hood. One of them was a minister.

A text followed: “OG, these motherfuckers trippin’. Almost sold their land in the hood.”

I typed back: “On my way.”

“Mr. Kincaid?” Mr. Smith’s voice brought me back.

“The price is fine. Imani will handle the details. I need to take care of something urgent. Excuse me,” I said, standing, ignoring the questioning glance from Imani.

⸻

Caleb followed me as I walked briskly down the wide hallway. Employees greeted me, but I didn’t stop. The elevator doors opened, and I stepped in, Caleb holding the button for me. Imani waved from afar, concern etched across her face.

My phone rang. Imani. I rolled my eyes and answered.

“Where are you off to? You still need to sign the sales documents.”

“I got you covered. Heading to the hood.”

“The hood? You’re not part of it anymore!”

“Nathaniel Kincaid didn’t make Big Kai—Big Kai made Nathaniel Kincaid. You know the rules,” I said, hanging up.

⸻

The ride to Bricktown took almost an hour. My son had been missing nearly a month. No one had found him—not even outside the city. I refused to believe he was dead. Blood of Kai doesn’t die easily. I would find him, and whoever took him would pay.

Bricktown. My origin. My streets. Young bloods skateboarding and playing basketball reminded me of the boy I once was—and the man I became. Now, at thirty, I am Big Kai: OG, king of these streets.

The tinted windows didn’t hide my identity. Hood recognizes hood.

“Big Kai!” a voice hailed as we drove.

⸻

I pulled up to my usual spot: a massive club, the biggest in the hood. I stepped out, dark shades on, Caleb behind me.

“Big Kai,” Mike called, a tall, tattooed man in a black tank top and baggy jeans. “Thanks to you, people are eating good, Big Dawg.”

“Smooth,” I said, heading inside.

“Yo, Young!” Mike called someone seated near the entrance. The man jumped to his feet.

Inside, three shirtless white men stood chained to a steel pole, hands above their heads. Reeko approached, giving me a firm handshake.

“The middle one’s the minister,” Reeko said. “He’s been up to corrupt shit.”

I studied them. Battered, arrogant, pathetic.

“Where’s the family?” I asked.

A door opened. A black family of four entered, eyes wide with fear.

“You tried selling your home to these morons?” I asked.

“We… owed them money,” the father, Louis, said.

“How much?”

“Six hundred grand.”

I scoffed. “For what?”

“Our daughter needed surgery,” his wife explained.

“Why not come to Reeko?”

“We thought… we could pay them back in a year,” Louis muttered.

Reeko shook his head. “A janitor paying six hundred grand in a year? Nigga, you trippin’.”

I turned to the minister. “You wanted more than their house, didn’t you?”

He stared, silent.

“He wanted to take our kids!” Louis’ wife blurted.

I smirked. Human trafficking. Typical.

I stepped closer to the minister, exhaling cigar smoke into his face. “Listen, you don’t come into Big Kai’s hood and pick my people like groceries. Past days are gone. You feel me?”

He flinched but didn’t speak.

“Don’t try this again. Especially with my people.” I dragged the lit cigar tip close to his nostril; he shuddered.

I turned to Louis and his family. “Start a decent life with two million. Don’t borrow from people like this again.”

“Yes, Big Kai,” they said, voices trembling.

“Reeko,” I commanded.

“Burn the white freaks,” he mouthed, grinning devilishly.

⸻

Back in my car, I sank into the seat. My phone rang. It was Tyrell.

“Big Kai.”

“You better have good news,” I said.

“We found him.”

Lil Kai. My heart clenched, then relaxed for the first time in weeks.

“Where?”

“Some girl has him. A white girl.”

I clenched my jaw. “Bring me my son—and the bitch too.”

“Yes, boss.”