Zyir sat in front of the thick glass that separated him and his mentor, Carter. He watched as the guard escorted Carter to the seat. Carter wore an orange jumpsuit, and Zyir noticed that being incarcerated hadn’t changed a thing about him. He still had the same confident swagger he possessed the day he went in. He had grown a small beard, but besides that, Carter looked the same.

Carter sat down and looked across at the young man that he had molded into his likeness. Zyir picked up the phone and placed it to his ear. Before picking up the phone, Carter paused and smirked as he looked at Zyir.

“Good to see you, my nigga,” Carter said after he finally picked up the phone.

“Good to see you too, Carter. How you holding up?” Zyir asked with sincerity all in his voice.

“I’m good. Ready to see that outside, feel me?” Carter said with intensity in his eyes.

Zyir nodded his head, already knowing what Carter was getting at. “I feel you. I just been waiting for the word, fam,” he replied as his adrenaline began to pump.

Their former comrade had turned snitch, and was set to testify against Carter in the upcoming trial, which was set to start a week later. The authorities let Zyir go in aspirations of catching the big fish, which was Carter. The judge had let Zyir out on bail, but held Carter after the DA had informed him of Carter’s kingpin status. They saw him as a potential flight risk because of his international drug ties and his unlimited finances, so he was forced to remain behind bars.

“I want you to start putting everything in motion. We un’ let them have their time to shine. Now it’s my turn,” Carter said, referring to the media and the District Attorney’s Office. They had made it a big deal in the local and national media that they had captured the head of one of the most treacherous drug rings in the south: The Cartel. They had news conferences displaying the drugs recovered from the bust, and acted as if they had Carter’s conviction in the bag, but little did they know.