Next Day.

"Will you be safe please?" Imani asked, looking over at Saint, who sat in the driver's seat.

"Yeah. Do you think when we go home tonight we can finally talk?" He returned a question, and she he a pondering look on her face.

"About?" She rose an eyebrow, and he tilted his head to the side.

"Come on Imani, you know what I'm talking about. If we gone start fresh we need to let everything go so we can move forward." He told her, and she scanned her eyes over his face, before leaning over.

He grabbed her neck once her lips pressed against his, sliding his tongue in her mouth and closing his eyes.

Her tongue fought slowly against his as the kiss deepened, and he groaned after wining, his other hand wrapping around her neck as well.

"Okay, okay Saint." She laughed, pulling her bottom lip from his mouth.

"I miss you." His hand slid between her legs, and she smiled, letting it rest there.

They hadn't had sex and barely have touched each other these last few days, and he really did miss that intimate time, but he would wait if she wanted to.

"We can talk, yes. And after, we can do something else." She chuckled, rubbing his face, and he leaned over to peck her lips a few times.

"I love you." He told her, pulling her shirt up and kissing her stomach, making her laugh.

"I love you too baby. Be safe." She smiled as he kissed her forehead, and then she got out of his truck.

Spider bucked at Saint from the porch, and he chuckled, shaking his head. He was glad that Pierre understood where he was coming from when he did what he did. He genuinely was sorry, for the shooting, not for hitting him. El oh el.

Saint watched Imani's hips effortlessly sway as she walked, her ass sitting in the gray biker shorts she wore.

Knowing that he was still watching, she bent over, placing her hands between her legs, and he busted out laughing, honking his horn as she laughed as well.

"Bye! Good luck." She waved, and he smiled, pulling out of Pierre's driveway, and then out of his neighborhood.

Saint couldn't even front like he wasn't a tad bit offset about meeting with his father. He hadn't seen nor heard from him since he was a kid.

He never really had a good bond with Judah. He was one of those fathers that forced their dream onto their kids, though it wasn't what the kid wanted.

Unfortunately for Saint, he really didn't have a choice. He was literally forced into the streets, to keep building what his father started. Judah was never as big as Saint though, and Saint figured that's why he was retaliating this way.

Saint had no help, building the empire that he now owned. Everything that he had, he built from the dirt-literally. He had no handout and no favors, he did everything on his own.

That's why he wouldn't allow his father to try and randomly come in and start some shit just because he was leaving. It'd be different if this was Judah's empire as well, but it wasn't. He was an old head, and his days had been over.

Saint drove down the long road that led to Rikers Island, his stomach beginning to turn. He hadn't planned on ever seeing his dad again once he'd gotten locked up, and now that he was-it made him nervous.

He pulled in the parking lot for visitors at the facility, emerging from his car.

He sported a polo shirt that was fitted against his bulging muscles, black slacks, and gucci loafers on his feet, paired with a gucci belt around his waist.

Saint loved to wear suits, and formal dress attire in general. He loved the look of a businessman because it made people take him serious, regardless of his natural 'hood nigga' aesthetic.

Entering the building, he rubbed hand sanitizer in on his hands, the receptionist immediately taking notice of who he was.

Saint literally owned the entire East coast of the United States. Not legally, of course, but everyone knew him, how he handled business, and his ruthless consequences. He had connects and plugs everywhere.

"P-pablo. How can I help you?" He stood from his desk, kind of afraid. He'd never met Saint in real life, but the stories he'd heard? He definitely didn't want to disrespect Saint in any way.

"I need to see Judah. Don, whatever y'all call him." Saint waved his hand in an annoyed manner, and the man nodded, typing on the computer.

"Did you want like-a private meeting room? Or the normal visitors area? You can meet in t-." He started, being cut off by someone else.

"Pablo. Nice to see you my brotha'." The warden, Gates, dapped him up, and Saint returned it, chuckling.

"What's good nigga? You getting fat. Big ass." Saint shook his head, and Gates smacked his lips, rolling his eyes.

"Nigga I'll put yo ass in one of these cells. Cut it out." Gates warned in a humorous manner, making him laugh, following him from the door he'd came from.

"So, Judah huh? What he done finally did to make you come around? Ain't seen yo ass in forever." Gates shook his head, the two of them walking down a hall.

Saint had made plenty of contributions to the corrections facility, mostly because it desperately needed help. Many inmates had passed away from the unsanitary prison, and Saint wanted to help prevent more deaths.

He'd met with Gates on many occasions, never discussing Judah though. Saint wanted absolutely no ties with him, and even paid to make sure that Judah was treated just like any other inmate, and not as the father of 'Pablo', one of the biggest dealers in the world.

"Too fucking much. What that nigga been doing in here? Causing trouble?" Saint asked, glancing at the many rowdy inmates they passed, locked up in cells.

"Actually, just the opposite. He converted to Islam two years ago, and ever since, I ain't had not one problem out of him. He even started a lil get together with the inmates, kind of like church every few days. Volunteered to mentor some of the younger bulls and all." Gates shrugged, and Saint sucked his teeth.

That didn't sound like Judah at all. Saint hated fake wanna be better ass niggas. How've you been a menace your whole life, now all of a sudden you're turning over a new leaf? Tuh.

"Here. Upstairs, cell 22. Press this buzzer if you need any help or-you know what, I know you'll be fine, but still." Gates chuckled, and Saint did as well, taking the key and buzzer from him, walking away.

The prison smelled like sweaty socks, and the air was humid and made him want to sneeze. The walls were a dull brown color, cobwebs in certain spots, making him shake his head.

The cell block was loud and rowdy, inmates banging on their doors to be let out, yelling at one another, calling out to Saint who almost all of them recognized, and a bunch of other things as well.

Saint walked up the stairs, approaching the floor of the most dangerous of the dangerous-serial killers, rapists, psychopaths, the whole nine yards.

He approached cell number 22, looking through the small rectangular window at Judah, who slept on the small bunk bed, curled up in an uncomfortable position from how big he was.

Saint was built just like his father. Tall, and naturally full of muscle, so he knew that he was definitely uncomfortable in the small, hard bed.

He unlocked the door, walking inside, and Judah's eyes popped open once the door shut. He immediately sat up, and Saint pulled his gun from his waist, not wasting any time.

"Where my OGs at?" He referred to his parents, his Glock 26 pointed at Judah.

"Ah. Of course they'd let you in with a gun." Judah chuckled, shaking his head.

"You think I'm fucking playing with you right now?" Saint frowned, and Judah stood to his feet, Saint's large figure towering over him.

Judah was only 6'2, but Saint had a staggering height of 6'5, and his figure was definitely intimidating.

"You're not little Saint anymore huh? You'sa big nigga." He chuckled, sitting at the small table that was in his cell.

"Have a seat." He gestured to other seat, and Saint held a mug on his face.

"Nigga I didn't come here to conversate. Where the fuck is my mama yo? Why the fuck you playin' wit' her and she innocent? Weak bitch you should've took me." Saint frowned at him, and Judah's jaw clenched, shaking his head.

"Hothead. Just how your mother used to be. She's not going to have a fucking head if you don't sit the fuck down." Judah gritted, and Saint licked over his teeth, sitting down across from him.

"You weak." Saint told him, not liking how he was using his own mother against him as if she was a pawn.

"And you're not? Leaving an entire empire for what? Some random girl you met?" He frowned, sitting up in the chair.

"Why does it bother you as if you making some type of money off this shit? As if this giving you a rep?" Saint furrowed his eyebrows, confused.

"Judah you gotta stop trying to fucking live through me. I'm grown. I'm not the same lil nigga you used to punk. This shit ain't yours my nigga. And to kidnap my fucking mama like this is a lifetime movie? What the fuck?" His head jerked back, irritated as he spoke his thoughts aloud.

"Got your attention ain't it?" Judah folded his arms, and Saint chuckled.

"So what? What do you want? You want me to stay in the game in order for you to release my folks? You want me to risk my life everyday over dumb shit since it's your dream?" Saint asked, because it didn't make sense. None of this made sense.

"You don't understand. Why would you want to give all of this up? You have so much, damnit! Niggas risk they life to be in your position, and you just gone give it up for some fake ass American family dream?" He frowned, gesturing with his hands.

"That's them! I don't want this fucking life no more man! I got a girl who I actually wanna be with, I don't want nobody coming after her because of this shit I do. I don't ever want her in harms way because of me, you never gave a fuck about shit like that though."

"You're so selfish, all you see is dollar signs. Man I'll give every fucking dollar that I got away, if it meant that I could be happy with her. She's pregnant with my kid. And I'll be damn if I be the same father you were, and even the same father I was the first time."

"I lost my fucking daughter behind this shit man. A whole ass child, I lost my fucking blood, a little girl man. I'm not making the same damn mistake twice. So yeah. I am giving it up for my family, and I'll do it ten times over. I don't wanna die in this shit man." Saint ranted to him, trying to get him to see his viewpoint.

"You was never there for me, not mentally, emotionally, hell your body was there everyday, but you? You wasn't. You never paid attention to me, didn't come to none of my games, none of the parent meetings when I was making straight A's. You took away my innocence and forced me to be like you. Ion want this shit no more man."

"I wanna go to all the parents conferences, games, family trips, I wanna see my kids walk the stage and become something that I couldn't. I don't wanna be like you Judah. I am not you, you need to let that idea go man."

"I was your son, been your son, even now. I could've been killed you, had somebody in this bitch kill you or somethin'. You don't hurt the people that you love. I always been your son Judah. But you was never a father to me man. I never had that from you before, and I want my kids to have what I didn't. I'm sorry if youn like that." He shrugged, finishing and wiping his face.

Judah felt a ping of sadness, hearing his son cry because he was never there for him. He wished he could go back and do it all over again, the right way. He wished he could be a father.

"Saint, I'm sorry." Judah's jaw clenched, and Saint chuckled, still wiping his face.

"Yeah. I know. So what, you gone release my folks? Can this shit be done? You can have all this shit. If you ever get out, Wallahi you can have everything-the connects, plugs, deals, customers-yours. Just leave my fucking family alone G. Let me go." Saint pressed, gesturing with his hands.

"Nah man. Just wanted to see my son one last time. I apologize that I took such extreme efforts to do so. I'm sorry Saint. For everything. I wish I could've given you more." He coughed, pulling a small flip phone from his pocket, dialing a number.

"Take em' home." He spoke into the phone, and Saint recognized Alayna's voice on the other end, making his jaw clench. He was going to kill her.

Judah ended the call, sliding the phone over to Saint.

"I know you gone get ha'. Might as well see what other crazy shit that bitch had planned for you and yours. Check the lines." Judah coughed into his hand, grabbing a napkin as blood splattered on his palm.

"You sick?" Saint asked, and he chuckled, nodding.

"Been sick. Cancer a bitch man, always knew them cigs a' take me out. Doc' gave me a few weeks, I ain't tryna hold on though. Tired of suffering." Judah told him, and Saint rose an eyebrow at what he was hinting to.

"Say less." He released two bullets into his forehead, and Judah fell backwards from the impact, the chair clashing on the ground.

Saint felt no remorse, watching his father bleed from the bullet wound in his forehead. He wasn't leaving this prison without Judah dead, regardless of if he was sick or not. He wasn't trying to have a repeat of this targeting towards his family.

Emerging from the chair, he glanced around the dull room, before seeing a few of his baby pictures pinned to the wall. He looked away, walking out of the cell.

"Everything good?" Warden Gates asked after Saint walked downstairs, the gun in his hand.

"Nah. You got a mess to clean up." He muttered, walking out of the cell block, and then out of the building.

All he wanted to do was lay in Imani's arms, and forget that all of this ever happened.

Sighhhhhhhhhhhh do y'all miss the sex? Can I do a scene? It's been like five chapters with no sex 😤😢🙄