E and Surgeon were loading vehicles with enough weapons to end a small war. They moved in sync, the definition of my brother’s keeper. If one slipped, the other would step in without hesitation.
Southside, Rich, and King stood in the cut, talking like we were on our way to a cookout, not a battlefield. That was their way—laugh, joke, keep it light, then flip the switch when the moment came. Mega, Balblair, and Ivan strapped into bulletproof vests, checking clips, loading extend-o’s like clockwork. No wasted movements no second guessing just loyal soldiers.
I just stood there, taking it all in. My family. Not blood but tighter than blood could ever be. They didn’t need to say shit. The looks, the nods, the smirks, it was all the language we spoke. But Rome, he always had something to say.
“Fuck we look like not showing up for family?” Rome pushed off the truck, came up and pulled me into a hard dap, his grin wide but eyes sharp.
“You go to war, we go to war,” King added, twirling the piece in his hand like it was a toy. His smile was reckless, dangerous, the type that let me know he lived for moments like this.
I shook my head, lips tight, but inside. My chest burned with a mix of pride and pain. I didn’t even call them, but they showed up. For me. For Stormi. For my family. For what was ours.
Surgeon whistled low, drawing us in. He was the quietest but the deepest thinker, and when he spoke, everybody listened. “Circle up,” he said.
We all stepped in close, guns still in hand, the night heavy around us. Surgeon closed his eyes and spoke low but firm: “Lord, cover us as we walk into the fire. Keep our minds sharp, our bodies strong, and our families safe. Protect our brother Seth, protect what he loves, and bring us all back in one piece.”
“Amen,” the group echoed, almost as one.
I felt my throat tighten. Didn’t show it, but I felt it. That prayer wasn’t just words, it was weight, pressing me to remember why I was doing this.
As we broke apart, Rome slapped my shoulder. “Aye, we gon’ finish this tonight. Ain’t no way in hell we lettin’ you carry this alone.”
“Real shit,” Rich said, nodding. “Stormi held it down long enough. Time to give her some peace.”
I swallowed hard, thinking about her face when I left. The fear she tried to hide. The way she told me no three days this time. I couldn’t promise her anything but this, I’d fight like hell to come back.
I climbed into the Denali, the leather cold under my palms, my Glock heavier than usual in my lap.
Every man in those cars knew what time it was. This wasn’t just another night. This wasthenight. And God help whoever stood in our way.
Hellcats, horses, and bikes killed the pavement as we sped out of my estate, engines growling like demons loose from hell. My chest burned knowing I’d just left my wife and kids behind, but I had to. Tonight was about ending this shit once and for all.
“Heard today was that nigga birthday,” I said, my voice flat as I passed Rich a look. “Take him out the same day he came in.”
Rich grinned, sparked the joint, and passed it to me. The smoke filled the truck, heavy and sweet, while he rapped along to Youngeen Ace’sLast Cry.
I leaned back, phone in hand, thumbing through videos and pictures of Stormi and the boys. I could make money in mysleep, flip packs, move weight but none of that meant shit when I realized just how far gone, I was. I’d dragged them into the crossfire, made them targets for niggas who only wanted what I built. The three people who gave me peace were the same ones paying for my sins.
We pulled up to the house bass shaking the walls, bodies spilling out on the lawn, liquor flowing like water. A birthday party for a nigga who didn’t know it was his last.
Young, dumb, careless. They ain’t even clock us when we slid out and melted into the crowd. The silencers clicked on with ease, our masks pulled low. We moved like shadows like death itself.
First shots cracked without sound. Bodies dropped mid laugh, blood soaking shirts before they could even reached for their steel. Screams cut through the music as chaos spread, but we didn’t flinch. Front to back, the house was ours.
Me, I had only one target. I knew exactly where Dre would be. Niggas like him never left a party without getting their dick wet. The moans coming from the first door upstairs told me all I needed to know.
I kicked it in. The sight made me smile, but it wasn’t joy. It was that devil’s smile. The one I only wore when I was about to take a soul. He froze, eyes wide, mid stroke, before realizing who was in the room.
“I can wait while you finish,” I said, calm, almost polite.
Southside slid in behind me, snatched up Dre’s gun and pants before he could even blink.
“You really thought it was sweet, huh?” Southside sneered, shoving him against the wall.
Dre’s eyes darted, sweat dripping off him as reality hit. He wasn’t walking away tonight. At least not whole.
I could’ve ended him right there. One shot, lights out, go home to my wife. But that wasn’t me. Death would’ve been too easy. I wanted him to feel what I felt. What Stormi felt when bullets ripped our peace apart. I wanted him to choke on that fear.
“Bop.”
