A/N Here's Finny boy ;) So little insight on me, threes are kinda my thing. I have this fic outlined already and it has 31 chapters proudly so. The chapters ending in three will always have an extra little kick, eyes opened. Also warning; drugs are mentioned/done in this chapter.

His back pressed against the back of his chair harder as his left leg kept bouncing, a hand gripped to the tuffs of his hair in frustration. He hated doing the books. This is what his best friend was for but of course she needed a spa day which of course would be Friday. Finn pushed the binders full of all the transactions made for just that week, two of the four binders falling to the floor from his desk.

"Fuck." He mumbled, tilting his head back and releasing an exhausted sigh. He hadn't been sleeping properly these last few months. He thoughts the shit he was always popping would keep him going but apparently it was starting to catch up to him.

"What the fuck was that?" Finn's head jerked up at the loud slam emitting from the living room of his luxurious Brooklyn loft. He quickly pulled the gun that was resting in the waist band of his underwear out, cocking the all black .45 once before opening the door to his office and making his way down the long hallway quietly. Without even thinking about it, Finn shot off two bullets into the shadow in his living room.

"Ow, Hudson, seriously."

Finn furrowed his eyebrows, quickly recognizing the voice as Puck.

"Why would you just come in here without calling? You're lucky I didn't kill you." Finn glared at his oldest and best worker.

Finn and Puck had been tied together like Beeves and Butthead since the age of five. Puck wasn't a friend anymore, more so like a brother but that didn't stop Finn from letting the other man know that business meant business. There is no friendship when it comes to money, Finn learned that the hard way and vowed to never get it confused again.

Puck swiped his hands alongside the side of his head, collecting blood against his palm as he did so. "You grazed." He stated bitterly as he watched Finn sit down on the couch, beer in one hand and his phone in the other. That man's phone was always going off. Whether it was some fiend trying to get a lick.(He rarely ever dealt with street people unless he was out and about. Once he hit the million dollar mark in his empire he allowed his men to deal with the citizens.) Or some hot blonde trying to actually lick Finn, nonetheless the phone never stopped vibrating.

Finn shrugged a shoulder, eyes darting up from his phone to his employee's eyes, lips curled around the lip of his beer bottle, taking a large gulp before pulling it away and looking back down to his phone. "What are you even doing in my house? Shouldn't you be out selling some shit?"

Puck's lips were held tight as he pulled his own shirt off and held it to the side of his head. One of the bullets grazed the side of his head, close enough to make it bleed though, the other, right beside his eye, a perfect point mark where the bullet skimmed passed his skin. After a second or so of staring at the gun balanced on Finn's leg, his lips finally parted to speak. "I got a massive lick earlier, enough to give me the night off. I just wanted to see if you wanted to hang at Underground BK since Madeleine is at her stupid spa shit."

Finn nearly pouted at the mention of his best friend, and very close second in command, being away for the night. The business man inside of him wanted to tell Puck to get the fuck out of his living room and go make him some money while the other half wanted another memory added with his friend. Underground Brooklyn was a club Finn had behind the scenes. He was basically the money of the entire club and when he went things got crazy which was always a plus for business. The drug lord finished off his beer before standing to his full height, gun pressed against the palm of his hand. "I don't see why fucking not, unless you're gonna act like a little pussy about me almost shooting your brains out." He offered his infamous smirk before turning around and heading towards his office once again, leaving Puck alone.

The six foot three inches man plopped down into his big leather chair behind his desk, eyes falling to the binders on the floor. He rolled his eyes at the binders. He knew he needed to get going with the numbers, especially if he was planning on going out again that night but he liked knowing he had loads of money, definitely not counting it that's what Madeleine is for. He was just about to stand to reach for the binders when his eyes caught sight of a picture he always found himself talking to. He let a hand swiped through his light brown tuffs, the other picking the framed picture up.

Some people would've said that Christopher Hudson was a evil and malicious man. He ran the drug scene in New York City in the seventies, eighties and the early nineties up until he was murdered. Some would've said he alone was the reason why the drug world in New York was getting so advance and if the man was to see his son now; he would sure be a proud father. Finn not only ran all of New York's drug lines, but he had warehouses in New Jersey, California, Texas, Florida, Nevada, Illinois, and Arizona. He was pulling in millions on a daily basis and no one could touch him. Many tried and died continuing to do so.

At the tender age of five his father was torn from his life. He didn't understand the logistics of it all when he was a child but now as a twenty three year old man he knew exactly what happened. Someone stitched and his family betrayed them and left them to die for. He swore to himself that he would live up to his father's footsteps and he'd never watch his mother struggle again, no matter how he did it. He started off in the business at the age of thirteen and quickly worked his way up. Carole knew her son would eventually fall into the lifestyle her late husband had conquered and in a way the older woman felt as if though she had failed Finn, though she fully supported his every move.

Finn placed the picture back on his desk, a sad barely there smile on his lips. He looked so content squished between his parents in front of his fifth birthday cake. His father easily holding Finn up as Carole cuddled into the side of her two boys. This black and white picture was the last picture Finn got to take with his father, hence why the photograph always put a ball the size of a baseball in his throat. He stood, quickly picking up the binders and tossing them back on top of the desk.

"Madeleine is gonna be mad, but look at the fucks I give." He stated out loud to himself as he made a bee line right out of his office. The surge of emotion still surging through him from the sight of his father's picture, causing him to stop dead in his tracks on his way to the living room, a fist easily forming a hole in the wall. He shook his hand out for a second, pleased with the release of anger.

"Get out to 18th and Flatbush."

Puck's head turned as he looked up at Finn, knowing the look his boss gave him more than what he'd like. A firm nod was his response as he stood from Finn's couch and exited the loft.

The tall man with a thick Brooklyn accent began quietly mumbling to himself the second the door closed behind Puckerman. The sight to anyone would've been a strange one but Finn found himself always mumbling to himself. The mumbling came to stop when his eyes began scanning the room. On one of the end tables there were four bricks of cocaine. He quickly went into the dinning room. Okay, there were 212 bricks on that table. He nodded to himself, all the material was there. He'd gotten into the habit of keeping bricks at his house, and his other habit; the mumbling, was his way of doing inventory.

Finn soon found himself bagging up several dozen bags of cocaine, a blunt hanging from between his lips as he focused on weighing off the material and tying off the bags. He missed this, the simple bagging. He didn't do these things anymore but for whatever reason he got the urge to and pulled out the old scale.

He nearly spilled an entire eight of cocaine when he heard music blare through his loft.

Fuck I look like hoe? I look like yes and you look like no.
I'm a bad bitch; I ain't never been a mix breed.
On a diet but I'm doing donuts in the sixth speed.

It wasn't till he had saved the cocaine from spilling onto his hardwood floors that the ringtone playing was actually Up All Night by Drake which quickly made him all but leap to retrieve his phone.

"Hello?"

"Finny!"

"I hate you."

The person on the other end of the phone gasped playfully. "You're a liar and the books can't be that bad, don't blow them off or you'll throw everything off."

Finn rolled his eyes, his hands back at bagging the white powder as he held the phone pinched between his shoulder and cheek. "I tried, okay? There's only so much I can do and books is one of the things I can't." He cleared his throat, finishing with the brick quickly before he spoke again. "Anyways, where's Chloe?"

Madeleine tried to muffle her giggle for Finn's sake but couldn't manage it perfectly. "I'll do that bright and early when I get back." The brunette on the other line of the phone was already blushing; her pale skin a bright shade of red. "She's right here with Zeus."

Finn and Madeleine had met when they were nine. Finn instantly liked how the blue eyed girl would climb trees with him and granted her permission into his social clique. Unlike Finn though, it was love at first sight for Madeleine but she settled for best friend in hopes that someday she'd have her chance with him. The two had quickly learned the drug game; and played very very well, but Madeleine was always second to Finn.

"Put her on." He could hear squeals in the background after Madeleine told Chloe that Finny was on the phone.

"Hi Finny!" An innocent voice flooded through the phone.

"Hey baby girl."

"Finny, I've been getting mud rubbed all over my face and Mama says it's to help with my ores."

"Chloe, where did you get ores?"

"Don't be silly, Finny, their on my face!"

It took Finn a second longer than what it should have but he eventually understood that ores meant pores. Much to his displeasure Madeleine realized it had taken Finn just as long and was now laughing at her best friend. "Oh, right, pores, right. Anyways, I'm glad you're having a nice time with the mud face stuff."

"Can we go for ice cream when I get home? The bad guys haven't been watching so you can take me!"

A sad smile played up on his lips at the words of his god daughter. The little girl was being raised in the middle of a drug empire. She'd seen more than most had seen already at the age of three, none of which him or Madeleine were proud of but when she wound up pregnant; she refused to leave the business and her perch as second in command of Finn's empire. Madeleine still to this day refused to tell Finn who the father of her daughter was, much to his annoyance. Chloe Marie was an exact replica of her mother, from the piercing blue eyes, strong jaw lines and the head full of wild brown curls, so there was no hope in searching for an answer there.

"We'll see, okay kid?"

"Okay, Uncle Finn."

"Hey, don't give me that tone, Chloe Marie. If I can't take you out I promise I'll have ice cream here for you, okay?"

"Okay, love you Finny."

"Love you too Chlobo now put mommy back on."

Finn had been busy pulling out an outfit for the night while he and Chloe spoke so he was currently standing in his bedroom staring down at the outfit he had laid out on the bed.

"I hope you didn't make her any promises you can't keep." Madeleine stated.

"You know I never do. Listen, make sure she doesn't pull Zeus' ears okay? I'll see you girls tomorrow, it's getting late and I'm heading out."

"Be safe, Hudson." Madeleine stated; noting how she switched into business mode herself.

"You got it, M. Take care of Chloe and her dog please." He didn't give her a chance to reply as he hung up and stared at the clothes before him. Finn pulled off the articles of clothing he was wearing before pulling the ones on the bed on. He wasn't much of a fashion lover, always deciding to go with the classic look which he wore well. Deciding his scruff looked fantastic, Finn ran his hands over his grey v neck. That shirt paired with a pair of dark washed jeans and a pair of white, black and red Jordans on his feet completed his outfit. He wouldn't mention that the entire outfit was Tom Ford, simple and classic, remember?

Once Finn's 'fin' was at perfect height and styled just the way he liked it; the man grabbed the keys to his bike off his nightstand and made his way to his living room. He had told Puck and Sam to meet him at Underground via text. As he was tossing the little bags he had bagged earlier from the brick into his pockets, a thought crossed his mind and he went into his kitchen in record time. The man quickly swallowed the two capsules of MDMA he had. Tonight was going to be like any other. VIP all night in the club then he'd pick a bimbo to drag home. He smirked to himself at the thought of his dick being wet later that night as he shut his door and locked it behind himself.

He biked it to the club at seventy miles per hour, weaving in between cars, trucks and buses. He left his all black motorcycle in his usual spot, meeting up with Puck and Sam within seconds of being there. He was also already hearing his name being called inside the parking lot. It was safe to say that the life of the party had arrived. He ignored the calls though, knowing Sam and Puck would be on it within seconds. He was making his way towards the front entrance of Brooklyn Underground when something caught his eye, causing the tall man to look over his shoulder just in time to see her smiling. He didn't know that cut out leggings could cause his head to snap so quick he thought as he entered the club; not before raking his eyes over the leggings once again.

A/N Soooo?