My business partner Maya ordered $4,850 worth of vintage cognac and Wagyu steaks at an exclusive Buckhead restaurant, fully expecting me to settle the syndicate front's tab like I always did.
Maya’s expression hardened, her eyes fixing on me with a sudden, cold fury. She grabbed the check binder, her knuckles white.
“You think a piece of paper matters in this city, Darius?” she hissed, her voice barely audible above the restaurant’s ambient hum. “My uncle Marcus has six men sitting in black Escalades parked along West Peachtree Street right now. You sign that tab, or you don’t make it to your car.”
I looked out through the floor-to-ceiling glass entrance of Marcel. Outside, idling under the dim streetlights despite the heavy rain, sat a blacked-out SUV. It was a Cadillac Escalade, just as she described.
I recognized the customized license plate frame from a distance. It belonged to Chopper Bennett’s crew—underworld debt collectors who worked directly for Marcus DuBose when threats and intimidation were required.
“They aren’t here to protect you, Maya,” I said, keeping my tone ice-cold, letting the words hang in the air. “They’re here because Chopper wants his money.”
“What money?” Maya demanded, her voice dropping an octave as she glanced nervously toward the entrance. Her eyes darted from the SUV outside to my face.
“The $300,000 street loan you took out in June under the pretext of upgrading our refrigerated trucks,” I said, watching her carefully. The corners of her mouth twitched. “You told Chopper that I approved the loan. You signed my name on the initial agreement.”
I saw her visibly flinch, a tiny movement that confirmed my suspicion.
“But I sent Chopper’s bookkeeper a certified bank statement two hours ago,” I continued, “showing that every dollar of that $300,000 loan went directly into your personal offshore account in the Caymans. Not a single cent touched Apex Logistics.”
Maya’s face lost its color. She reached quickly for her phone, her fingers fumbling over the screen.
Before her fingers touched the display, a new notification banner flashed across her phone. It wasn’t a call. It was a news alert.
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