There’s no boss. No crown. Just a name with blood on it—and everyone reaching for what’s left.
 
With Tony Lloyd back behind bars and the rest of the crew too green or too grimy to lead, the Trenton legacy is wide open. Big Cousin, one of the last old heads still walking free, watches from the shadows as the next generation begins to circle.
 
Helen Trenton, sharp, polished, and always overlooked, knows the empire should be hers. She’s expanding the family’s fronts—from laundromats to arcades to a buzzing record label, nightclub, and funeral parlor—but respect ain’t inherited. It’s taken.
T3, son of a fallen soldier, doesn’t carry the Trenton name, but he came up in the dirt of the empire. In his mind, bloodlines don’t matter—survival does.
Pharaoh, bred from the inside but never wanted the life, is running out of options. And in this game, indifference is a death sentence.
 
As internal chaos brews, an outside threat emerges.
 
From the streets of St. Louis, Kash and his older brother Reese bring their independent rap label—and the muscle behind it—to Chicago. But their artists are just the cover. These boys move like soldiers. When they poach one of Helen’s rising stars and start flipping blocks, it’s not competition—it’s a coup.
 
Meanwhile, a freshly-assembled police task force sets its sights on the fractured empire. They're not looking to arrest. They're aiming to erase the Trenton name from the city map.
 
This isn’t about inheritance.
It’s about who’s ruthless enough to rebuild the empire… or burn it down trying.
 
“Redemption was never the end. It was just the opening shot.”