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Where's your throne, King Nothing?
Once the dust settled, nothing stood in his way anymore.
Once he embraced his fate, his heart cracked open, and it was clear as the sun: he doesn't want this life. never did.
He took his own initiative, helped the cartel spread their turf further. Got another black bird inked on his arm, spat blood, ate some iron, and a few months later, he moved into a new apartment in the Palisades. Got a new car. Then a boat. Another car, shiny but useless. The place was huge, and the emptiness mirrored his. So he filled that void with parties. drugs. whores. some artsy peeps, celebs, strippers, more whores...
A whole year burned away like a witch in Salem. He gained more respect from Reyes — he even dragged him to his cousin's wedding in Tijuana. From dog to god. He was no longer his bitch, but his most trusted soldier; which to Lex it meant all the same. He was one of them now.
La-fucking-familia.
Lex wasn't happy. Deep down, he cursed all of them and all of it. The house, the cars, the cash. It meant fuck all of nothing to him. How'd he even end up here? That question gnawed at him, and he ignored the answer screaming inside until it was so loud he couldn't sit still.
He couldn't go back h
ome. But he could get away.
They always talked about Madrid...
Posted 6/4/2025, 7:00 AM