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Heavy Is The Head That Wears The Crown (2)

Warnings: Heavy Adult Themes

Jules

Jules was adjusting the cuff of his tailored blazer when his phone buzzed. He glanced down, expecting it to be Harmony or something routine. But when he saw Malachi’s name, a strange feeling settled in his chest.

Malachi: We need to talk. Now.

Jules frowned. His son wasn’t the type to send cryptic messages, and he sure as hell wasn’t the type to demand a conversation so urgently.

Without hesitation, he typed back.

Jules: Where are you?

It took only a few seconds for the reply.

Malachi: At the spot.

Jules knew exactly what that meant. The parking lot near the docks—the same place he used to clear his head when the weight of everything got too damn heavy. Malachi had picked up that habit from him, though he never said it out loud.

Grabbing his keys, Jules exhaled slowly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. Malachi rarely asked for his help with anything outside of football, school, or his girl. If he was reaching out now, it meant something had shaken him.

And Jules had a gut feeling he knew what it was.

His past was catching up. Not to him—to his son.

Without wasting another second, he stepped out, the weight of fatherhood and old ghosts pressing down on him as he drove off to meet Malachi.

Malachi leaned against the hood of his Maybach, arms crossed, staring out at the dark water by the docks. He barely glanced up when he heard his father’s car pull in. The low rumble of the engine cut off, and then footsteps—steady, controlled.

Jules stopped a few feet away, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. “You know I hate cryptic texts, Malachi,” he said, his tone even but laced with expectation. “Talk.”

Malachi exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand over his braids before finally turning to face him. “Some guy was waiting for me outside Frazier’s,” he said. “Leaning on my car like he owned the damn thing.”

Jules’s expression didn’t change, but Malachi caught the slight shift in his posture—a subtle straightening of the shoulders, the kind of reaction that told him his father was already piecing things together before he could even finish.

“He knew me,” Malachi continued. “Knew you. Said someone wants to talk. Called it ‘unfinished business.’”

Jules’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening. Unfinished business. That was never a good phrase in his world—his old world.

“Did he say a name?” Jules asked, his voice controlled but sharp.

Malachi shook his head. “No, but he had that look. That vibe. He wasn’t just some random dude trying to flex.” He paused, exhaling as he tried to push down his frustration. “I didn’t say anything. Told him to get lost, but he made it clear that this wasn’t over.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, the weight of the words settling in the air. Jules stared at his son, taking him in—the fire in his eyes, the barely contained tension in his stance.

“You knew this was coming, didn’t you?” Malachi finally asked, his voice quieter but firm. “You knew something like this would happen eventually.”

Jules sighed, running a hand over his face before shaking his head. “I was hoping it wouldn’t,” he admitted. “But the past doesn’t stay buried forever.”

Malachi let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, seems like it just dug itself up.”

Jules took a slow step closer, his expression unreadable. “I need you to trust me on this,” he said. “I’ll handle it.”

Malachi clenched his jaw. “Handle it how?”

“The way it needs to be handled.”

That wasn’t an answer, and they both knew it. But Malachi also knew that pressing his father for more wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“I don’t want this touching you,” Jules continued, his voice low. “I spent years making sure it wouldn’t. But if someone’s trying to pull you into something, that means they want me to react.” His eyes locked onto Malachi’s. “And I won’t give them that.”

Malachi held his father’s gaze, searching for something—assurance, maybe. A promise that this wouldn’t get worse. But deep down, he knew better.

“Stay close,” Jules finally said. “And if that guy or anyone else comes back? You call me first.”

Malachi hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Alright.”

Jules patted his shoulder, a rare but firm gesture, before stepping back toward his car. “Go home, Malachi.”

Malachi watched as his father drove off, leaving him with more questions than answers. Whatever this was, it wasn’t over. And for the first time in his life, he wondered if he was ready to find out just how deep his father’s past really ran.

The moment Jules merged onto the highway, he hit the speed dial for Marissa. She answered on the second ring. Harmony was the family’s private investigator. She did the digging, no questions asked.

“Talk to me,” she said immediately, sensing the tension before he even spoke.

“We’ve got a problem,” Jules said, his voice clipped. “Malachi was approached tonight. Some guy outside Frazier’s—leaning on his car, dropping hints about unfinished business.”

Marissa cursed under her breath. “Did Malachi recognize him?”

“No. And the guy didn’t drop a name, which means whoever sent him wants me to figure it out myself,” Jules said. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “That’s a message in itself.”

Harmony exhaled sharply. “You think it’s Vega’s old crew?”

“Doubt it. We buried them when we took him out. If someone’s crawling out of the woodwork now, they’ve been waiting.” Jules’s mind raced as he ran through possibilities. He had cut ties cleanly when he flipped. But there were always those who held grudges, those who didn’t care about deals made with law enforcement.

“I don’t like this,” Marissa said. “You knew this could happen, but Malachi—he’s not built for that world.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jules snapped, then forced himself to breathe. “That’s why I’m calling you. I need you to start digging. I want to know who’s sniffing around.”

“I’m on it,” Marissa said. “But if someone’s coming at you through Malachi, they’re trying to make you react. What’s your move?”

Jules’s jaw clenched. “I don’t make a move until I know exactly who I’m dealing with. But if they want to test me, they’ll regret it.”

Marissa was silent for a beat. Then, “I’ll call when I have something.”

Jules hung up, his mind running through every possible enemy that could be resurfacing. One thing was certain—whoever they were, they had just made a mistake.

Because threatening his son?

That was a death wish.

When Jules pulled into the driveway, he could already feel the tension in the air. The house was quiet—too quiet. As soon as he stepped inside, he spotted Harmony standing in the kitchen, her phone still in her hand, her expression unreadable.

She turned the moment she heard the door shut behind him.

“Marissa called me,” she said, her voice even but sharp. “You want to tell me why they know about our son getting approached before I do?”

Jules sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He had barely processed everything himself, but of course, AMMO had eyes everywhere. “I was going to tell you—”

Harmony held up a hand, stopping him. “Don’t. Just tell me what happened.”

He exhaled, walking toward her. “Some guy was waiting for Mal outside Frazier’s. He knew Malachi’s name, knew mine. Said there was unfinished business—then disappeared before Mal could press for more.”

Harmony’s jaw tightened, her cloudy gray eyes darkening. “And Malachi—he’s okay?”

“He’s fine. Pissed. Confused. But he’s not hurt.”

Harmony crossed her arms. “And you don’t know who sent this guy?”

“Not yet,” Jules admitted. “But I know Harmony. She’s digging.”

Harmony nodded slowly, her gaze hardening as she processed the information. “You always said the past wouldn’t touch them,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “You promised me.”

“I know,” Jules said, stepping closer. “And I meant it. But someone’s testing me, Harmony. That’s all this is—a test.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “No, Jules. This is a warning. And if they’re coming for Malachi first, that means they think he’s a weakness.”

Jules clenched his jaw. “He’s not.”

“Maybe not,” Harmony agreed. “But they don’t know that. And until we figure out who’s behind this, we have to assume they’ll try again.”

She held his gaze, unflinching. “So what’s the plan?”

Jules knew there was no easy answer. But one thing was certain—whoever was behind this had just declared war on the wrong family.

“Protect my child Jules.” Harmony says.

Jules held Harmony’s gaze, feeling the weight behind her words. She wasn’t just asking—she was commanding him, the same way she did when they first met, when she was a detective and he was the enemy.

“You think I wouldn’t?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

Harmony’s cloudy gray eyes burned into him. “I think you better.” She stepped closer, her presence fierce, unwavering. “I don’t care what it takes, I don’t care who it is, and I don’t care about your past promises to let sleeping dogs lie. If they come for Malachi, you handle it.”

Jules nodded once. “I will.”

“Good.” But Harmony wasn’t done. “Because if something happens to him, I won’t be looking at them first, Jules. I’ll be looking at you.”

That landed like a bullet.

Jules inhaled slowly, letting the weight of her words settle. He reached out, gently gripping her hand—not to reassure her, but to ground himself.

“I swear to you,” he said, voice rough with conviction, “no one is touching our son.”

Harmony studied him for a long moment, then squeezed his hand once before letting go. “Make sure of it.” Then she turned, already moving. “I’m calling Rafe. Malachi’s not moving without someone watching his back.”

Jules exhaled, watching her go. He knew Harmony—knew that this wasn’t fear talking. It was readiness. She had been preparing for something like this from the moment they decided to build a family, and now that it was happening, she wasn’t hesitating.

Neither would he.

Jules stood outside Malachi’s door for a moment, listening. No music, no TV—just silence. That wasn’t like his son. Malachi wasn’t the type to retreat.

He knocked once before pushing the door open.

Malachi was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, phone in his hands. He barely glanced up before muttering, “I already know why you’re here.”

Jules stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. “Then make this easy and talk to me.”

Malachi exhaled sharply, tossing his phone onto the bed. “What’s there to talk about? Some random dude—probably one of your old enemies—pulled up on me tonight like he had a message to deliver.” He finally looked up, his cloudy gray eyes—his mother’s eyes—searching his father’s face. “And I’m supposed to just act like that’s normal?”

Jules crossed his arms. “No. You’re supposed to trust that I’ll handle it.”

Malachi scoffed, shaking his head. “See, that’s the thing. You keep saying you’ll handle it, but I don’t even know what you’re handling. You don’t tell me anything. You’ve never told me anything.”

“Because you don’t need to know,” Jules said firmly.

“Don’t I?” Malachi shot back. “Because it sure as hell feels like your past just walked right up to me, and I didn’t even see it coming.”

Jules clenched his jaw. His son wasn’t wrong.

Malachi leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You think I don’t hear things? People whisper about you, Dad. About who you used to be. The problem is, I don’t know what’s true and what’s bullshit.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “But tonight? That felt real.”

Jules sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not your burden to carry, Malachi.”

Malachi let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah? Well, I hate to break it to you, but it’s already mine. I carry it every time someone looks at me and wonders if I’m just your son or if I’m something more.”

The words hit hard. Jules had spent years keeping his past away from his family, trying to rebuild, to be better. But here was Malachi, telling him that the weight of his past had been there all along.

Jules sat down in the chair across from him, leaning forward. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I did things I’m not proud of. I’ve spent every day since making sure those things didn’t define you, Izzy, or Mal.” He exhaled. “But you’re right. Maybe I should’ve told you more. Because the people in my past? They don’t play fair. If they’re coming for you, it means they’re trying to get to me.”

Malachi studied him for a long moment. “So what happens now?”

Jules’s expression darkened. “Now? Now I find out who’s behind this. And then I make sure they never come near you again.”

Malachi nodded, but his eyes still held something unreadable. “And if they do?”

Jules’s voice was cold, final. “Then they won’t live long enough to regret it.”

“For now you go to school. Focus on that. Football. Your mother and I will handle it.” He says.

Malachi let out a slow breath, nodding. “Yeah… alright.” But his posture was still tense, his mind clearly racing.

Jules leaned forward, leveling him with a steady gaze. “I mean it, Malachi. You don’t change your routine. You don’t start looking over your shoulder. That’s my job.”

Malachi exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Kinda hard not to when some random dude is popping up like he knows me.”

“I get that,” Jules admitted. “But I need you to trust me and your mother. We saw this coming before you were even born. We’re ready.”

Malachi studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. But if this dude shows up again?”

“You don’t engage,” Jules said firmly. “You call me. You call your mother. You get out of there. Understood?”

Malachi ran a hand over his face. “Yeah. Understood.”

Jules stood up and patted his shoulder. “Good. Now get some sleep. You’ve got school in the morning.”

Malachi let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, because algebra is really gonna take my mind off all this.”

Jules smirked. “Stranger things have happened.” Then his expression hardened. “Stay sharp, but don’t let this shake you. You’re an Aretas.”

Malachi nodded. “Yeah… I know.”

As Jules walked to the door, he glanced back once more. His son was strong—he had Harmony’s fire and his own resilience. But this was the first real taste of the world Jules had fought so hard to shield him from.

And he’d be damned if it touched Malachi again.

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