The Cartel Deluxe Edition Page 25

  Mecca had beaten Miamor for so long that he was out of breath and sweating profusely. He threw the chain to the ground and retrieved the bottle of ammonia from the corner. He knew that the liquid fire would eat through her skin like acid as soon as it doused her open wounds. He unscrewed the top and splashed the poisonous liquid all over Miamor’s bloody body, which now resembled that of a runaway slave.

  “Aghhhhhhh!”

  Her blood-curdling scream was enough to make the average man cringe in regret, but Mecca continued his relentless assault on her without mercy.

  Miamor felt like she was burning alive. Her eyes, legs, arms, hell, even her hair hurt. She knew that she would never make it out of the basement alive. Mecca had too much to prove.

  “Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name—”

  “Who you praying to, bitch?” Mecca asked, taunting her, as he slapped the words from Miamor’s mouth. “I am God.”

  Miamor could hear the insanity and hate in his voice. She knew that he wasn’t going to stop beating her until there was nothing left to beat. She couldn’t change that fact. This was her fate. She felt herself growing faint and continued, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.”

  The chain seared through her skin once more, but this time she didn’t scream. She was past the point of pain. She was near death. She felt the walls closing in on her. She could see the shadow of the devil standing behind Mecca. She knew she wasn’t destined for Heaven. She had too much blood on her hands. She had sinned beyond reproach, and the devil was waiting to snatch her soul and damn her to hell. She knew it. She embraced it. She was a bad bitch, and she was going to die like one.

  As Mecca’s fist collided with her face one more time, she slowly turned her head toward him. She spat blood. “Fuck you, Mecca! I hope you enjoy watching me die just like I enjoyed watching your mother and sister die, mu’fucka!”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Mecca grabbed the ammonia, pinched the sides of her mouth harshly, and poured the chemical down her throat and on her face.

  Miamor struggled against his grasp, desperately trying to close her eyes and mouth. It burnt her lips and nose. She saw the Grim Reaper stepping closer to her.

  “I got something for you, bitch. I’m not gon’ kill you. I’ma let my man handle you.”

  Miamor watched as Mecca walked out of the room and the devil stepped closer to her, her heart jumping with every step the devil took. His face came into view, and when it became fully visible, her eyes grew wide in shock. Fabian!

  The shadow in her peripheral vision wasn’t the devil, but a part of her wished that it was. Surely, death would have been better than what Fabian had in store for her. He had a score to settle. She closed her eyes to finish talking with God. “Give us this day, our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Her voice broke, and tears filled her eyes.

  Fabian leaned into her, his hot breath blowing against her burning skin. “It’s too late for prayers, bitch. You’re gonna die tonight,” he stated with no emotion.

  Miamor couldn’t believe that her past had come back to haunt her. This scary mu’fucka was the same one begging her for his life just months ago. Now he was standing before her getting ready to take her own.

  “I should have cut off your fucking balls when I took your dick, mu’fucka. Do what you got to do, nigga. Fuck you!”

  Fabian punched Miamor with so much force that her jaw collapsed on the right side.

  Miamor felt the weight of her face as her jaw caved in. She cringed, absorbed the pain, recited the Lord’s Prayer in her mind, and then spat teeth and blood onto the floor. She sat up straight and prepared herself for what was in store. She hoped for a quick death, but she knew that it wasn’t going to happen, so she breathed deep, squared her shoulders, and forced herself to open her eyes, ignoring the agonizing pain from the chemicals in her eyes. She stared Fabian directly in the eyes and smirked.

  This nigga ain’t a killer. He’ll never be like me. Fuck it, if I’ma go out, it ain’t gon’be on my knees. “Fuck you!”

  The Cartel 2:

  Tale of the Murda Mamas

  Prologue

  “I’m going to kill you, bitch!” Fabian threatened as he prepared to finish the job that Mecca had started.

  Miamor’s body was giving up on her. She shook violently from the cold that was settling in. It’s so cold . . . so cold! she thought as her teeth chattered. Death loomed in the air like an elephant in the room. She could feel death coming. She didn’t fear it—unlike the bitch nigga in front of her—she embraced her fate. She smiled slightly, because she knew that she would see Fabian in hell and wouldn’t hesitate to get it popping. Even in death, she would be sure she had the last laugh.

  She couldn’t fight Fabian off of her. She was too weak, and on this day, she felt it in her soul that she was going to die. She knew that she was at a disadvantage. For the first time in her life, she was the weak one. She was at the mercy of the man in front of her, and to make matters worse, she was personally responsible for his strife, so he had something to prove. Miamor knew how niggas thought, and by cutting off his dick, she had robbed him of his manhood. His pride was wounded, and because of that, he would show her no mercy.

  The fact that she was a female didn’t mean shit to Fabian. He had seen firsthand what she was capable of. He had been her victim, and now she was his. Fate had tipped in his favor, and karma is a bitch . . . a big bitch. He was determined to get his revenge, and it would be sweet . . . slow and sweet.

  Miamor was confined to the chair. The ties dug into her skin, rendering her helpless while Fabian attacked her. She felt each blow as he struck her repeatedly. The impact of his fists invaded her brain, terrorizing her existence. Oddly enough, she was grateful for Fabian’s attack, because it was much less vicious than the tyranny Mecca had bestowed upon her. Miamor began to laugh slightly because she realized that even at her weakest state she was still stronger than Fabian. Mecca’s blows had left her helpless, and made her respect his ruthlessness. Mecca was her equal. His murder game matched her own, but Fabian was beneath her. At this moment, he was physically stronger than she was, but mentally he was pathetic, and she could still sense that he feared her, which is why he hadn’t hit her with all his might.

  “What the fuck are you laughing at, bitch?” Fabian asked in frustration as he struck her again, enraged that he wasn’t making her feel pain like Mecca had.

  Miamor had begun to cough up blood, but that didn’t stop her from laughing. Her bloodstained teeth agitated Fabian even more as he watched her spit out a glob of blood. She knew that the only way to get out alive was to get inside of Fabian’s head. She had to tip the scales in her favor again. She was going to make him fear her without even laying hands on him. He had no heart and she sensed it. She, on the other hand, had the heart of a lion and was about to eat him alive.

  Fabian eventually stopped hitting Miamor and staggered away from her. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he looked at her in confusion. His chest was heaving in exhaustion. This bitch is crazy! he thought as the dismay he felt spread across his face.

  “I let you keep your life last time,” Miamor said as she spit blood from her mouth. She was dizzy and she knew that she didn’t have much time. Her life was on a countdown. She was slipping away. Her energy was low, and she could feel her life fading. Her body urged her to succumb to the pain, but her mind and strong will pushed her forward. If this was her day to die, then so be it, but she had never given up anything without a fight. She was going to fight for her life, and her weapon of choice was her mind.

  “What?” Fabian asked. He was in disbelief at how resistant Miamor was to pain. He didn’t know that she was suffering in agony, because she would never allow him to see it.

  Miamor was fucking up his mental, playing a game of mental chess where she devised the rules. She could see the hesitation in his eyes. All she had to do was keep talking. “You
think my girls don’t know where I am right now, Fabian? Even if you do kill me, there are two bitches just like me that are still out there, and they are going to come for you, my nigga,” she said.

  “Bitch, you can’t threaten me,” Fabian said nervously as he slapped her once more, the force behind it fading even more.

  “I don’t make threats, sweetie. I make promises. What? You think they won’t know who did this to me? Your fingerprints and DNA are all over this fucking basement, dummy! They’re all over me, Fabian. We do this for a living. It’s not a game with us. We let you live last time. You can kill me, but you better know that my girls are gon’ come for you, and next time, they are going to do a lot more than leave you dickless. They’re coming, Fabian . . .”

  Fabian’s eyes shifted around the room as if he was the one who was there against his will, as if he was looking for an escape.

  Miamor coughed violently and her breathing became labored as she struggled to keep her strength. Keep talking, Mia. Talk yourself right out of this shit, she thought. “They’re coming, Fabian. Now, you just got to decide. Are they coming to rescue me? Or are they coming to murder you? Killing me won’t make you a bigger man. You’re stepping into the big leagues by fucking with me, Fabian. Are you ready? Do you think you have what it takes to kill someone like me? Every action has a reaction. Even in death, I can touch you, Fabian. Trust!” she spat.

  “Fuck!” Fabian shouted as he began to pace back and forth in the room. He was torn. He didn’t want to see the wrath of the Murder Mamas, but at this point, he felt like he was in too deep. He couldn’t turn back now. He pointed his gun at Miamor, deciding to just kill her and get it over with. His finger wrapped around the trigger, but when his eyes met hers, he saw the devil in them. His lip began to quiver. He lowered his weapon. “I know you’re not just going to let me get away with this. Even if I don’t kill you, you’re going to come for me.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Miamor said. “The point is that you have a chance to live if you don’t kill me. You show me favor, I might show you mercy. But if you kill me, then you might as well set your watch, nigga, because within the week, you’ll be eating hollow points.”

  Fabian fidgeted, his hand began to shake, and he put his hands over his ears to drown out her words. “Set your watch, nigga! You’ll be eating hollow points within the week.” Miamor’s words echoed through his brain, and what had started out as a planned murder was becoming a game of survival of the fittest.

  Fabian didn’t know it, but he had just transferred the power right back into Miamor’s hands by letting her fuck with his psyche. If he had been smart, he would have killed her quick, but he had given her time to think. He had given her the opportunity to bring it to his ass, without even knowing that she had just conquered him mentally. No doubt about it, if Miamor was a nigga, she would have been an American Gangster. She was just that crucial. Even while teetering at the edge of death, she refused to lose.

  “I want your word,” Fabian said as he pointed the gun back at Miamor. His aim was so shaky that even if he pulled the trigger he would miss his shot. His nerves were shot, and he truly feared the woman in front of him. He knew that whoever made her the way she was had to be ruthless. He hated her, but he didn’t want to be the one to bring her death in fear of the repercussions. “If I let you go, you won’t come for me. Say it!”

  Miamor bit her tongue, because she knew that it wasn’t a promise that she could keep, but she extended it anyway in order to save herself. She swallowed what felt like a lump in her throat, but the salty taste of blood let her know that even if Fabian let her go, she could still die. Time was of the essence, and her body was letting her know that if she didn’t get help soon, she would be going to meet her maker. She and her sister would be reunited sooner than she thought if she didn’t get out of there. “Let me go. You have my word.”

  Fabian approached her slowly and kept his shaky aim on her as he removed one of her hands from the duct tape. He then backpedaled toward the stairs. Miamor’s eyes never left him. They were like a constant threat as he took the stairs upward one by one, until finally he reached the top. Miamor nodded and watched him rush out of the door.

  As soon as he disappeared from her sight, she let out a scream of excruciating pain. “Aghh!” she yelled as tears filled her eyes. She used her free hand to try and remove the rest of the tape from her body. Her grip was so weak, which made the effort of freedom so much harder to attain. She was hurt, badly. She could barely breathe, and no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t free herself from the chair. The world around her spun wildly as if she was on a merry-go-round. In frustration, she rocked the chair back and forth as she struggled to loosen her arms. Come on! Get the fuck up! Get out of this! You cannot die down here! she cried silently, forcing herself to move.

  Miamor put two hands on the ground and attempted to stand again. She resembled a child who was learning to walk for the first time as she put her arms out to steady her balance. She closed her eyes to stop the spinning and stumbled as quickly as she could up the stairs. She fell repeatedly as blood poured from every opening on her body. Her eyes burned from the chemicals Mecca had doused her with. She could barely see; the world through her eyes was one big blur, making the steps almost impossible to climb. Her bleeding legs, back and arms were unbearable. She didn’t care that she was naked; all she wanted to do was get out of there. She needed to get to a hospital quickly. She burst from out of the basement with a desperation she had never known. Panic set in, and her legs threatened to give out. She stumbled out of the abandoned house and onto the city street. She saw people and urged her body to carry her in their direction.

  “What the fuck?” she heard someone say. “Oh my God!” another voice called out.

  Her vision blurred, and the merry-go-round in her head spun faster and faster as she grasped at the air for support that wasn’t there. “H . . . h . . . help me!” she whispered. These were the last words that left her mouth before she collapsed face first. Her head hit the pavement with a sickening thud, causing her entire world to go black as blood flowed onto the streets.

  * * *

  “Help! Somebody help me!” Breeze yelled. She felt the branches and leaves hitting her face and arms like whips as she ran full speed through the thick jungle. She felt the dirt and rocks underneath her bare feet, cutting them and nicking them as she ran, but her only concern was getting away from a crazed Ma’tee. She scrambled desperately, crying to herself as she made her way. She didn’t know where she was going. She just wanted to get as far away from Ma’tee as she could. She was going to run as long as her legs allowed her to. She could hear his voice yelling her name, and it only encouraged her to run faster. His voice echoed through the jungles that sat in the secluded Black Mountains, and sent chills through Breezes spine.

  She had been locked in his basement for the past eight months, and finally got a chance to escape when Ma’tee had gotten comfortable and let her upstairs. The warm rays of the sun felt unfamiliar to her, because her body had become adjusted to the confinement of the luxury basement that she had been trapped in.

  Breeze couldn’t see anything but tall, green exotic plants and leaves as she brushed past them with both hands in front of her, pushing them aside to protect her face. She ran and ran until the sound of Matee’s voice faded in the distance behind her. She stopped to catch her breath and sat at the base of a tree while looking around in fear. She breathed heavily as tears streamed down her face and her lungs worked in overdrive, desperately searching for more oxygen. The air was thin and muggy, which made it hard to breathe due to the high altitude of the tall mountains.

  “Where the fuck am I?” Breeze asked herself as she rested her hand on her chest and felt her heart beating rapidly. Her eyes scanned her surroundings anxiously . . . desperately as she stood back up to continue her escape. Little did she know, she was just wasting her time. The jungle’s shape was a gigantic circle, that lead right back to Ma’tee’
s palace.

  While Breeze breathed heavily in attempt to catch her breath, she felt a painful pinch near her ankle. She quickly jerked her leg back and began to examine it, but she didn’t see anything. She directed her eyes directly on where the pain was coming from, and noticed a small blood puddle on her ankle that resembled a bite. The sting instantly became an excoriating hurt, and she began to grimace while rubbing the small bite. She tried to stand up, but she quickly was knocked back to her bottom because of her dizziness. Her sight began to blur and sweat beads began to form, eventually trickling down her forehead as she began to experience hot flashes. Before she knew it, she had passed out at the result of all of the pain.

  Hours later Ma’tee found Breeze passed out against that same tree, defeat written all over her face. He smiled as he whispered, “Sleeping Beauty,” as he approached her. He took his time before going after her after she had escaped, knowing that it was impossible for her to navigate her way out of the jungles. It was nearly impossible for someone to exit the Black Mountains if they didn’t know them like the back of their hand. Ma’tee approached Breeze and ran his finger through her hair, hoping she would wake up. He noticed that she didn’t move and was sweating profusely. She was still breathing, but something wasn’t right. He shook her with force, but still didn’t get a response.

  Ma’tee then looked at the exotic tree that she was lying underneath, and noticed that it was a black oak tree. He quickly became nervous and scooped up Breeze into his arms. Her body was limp, and she wasn’t responding to his touch whatsoever. “See what chu un done to chu self?” Ma’tee said in his heavy Haitian accent. Ma’tee noticed the thin red streaks going up Breeze’s legs, an indication of a spider bite. He instantly knew that she had been bitten by a black widow, one of the most poisonous spiders found in the Black Mountains. The black oak was known for housing their nests. He knew that he had to get her back to the house before it spread any further. He had antivenom back home, and knew it was only a matter of time before the bite would kill Breeze. He held Breeze securely in his arms and headed back to his place to administer the medicine to his beauty queen.