Rich leaned forward slow, like a lion that already picked out his kill.
“I’m the one asking questions now,” he said, voice low but mean. Evil poured off him like heat off asphalt. His eyes. Man, his eyes didn’t even look human. They were hollow and cold like he was ready to end something.
Still, I held his stare. Shaking inside, but I didn’t let it show. I wasn’t no punk. He rubbed his hands together like he was warming up for something violent. Then cracked his knuckles slow, one by one.
“I don’t got Stormi’s patience,” he said, “but I do got more sense than Seth right now. And that should scare the fuck outta you.”
I turned to the back window, saw the flashing lights fading behind us. My chest tightened.
“You lookin’ for help?” Rich laughed, loud and bitter. “You want the boys in blue to come save you?”
He leaned in closer, breath hot.
“They on my fuckin’ payroll. Every last one of ‘em. That’s why they didn’t say shit when I threw your ass in here. They know who run this block.”
I stared at him, heart pounding in my ears.
“What happened?” I asked, voice dry.
His jaw clenched. “You tell me,”He said, not breaking eye contact for a second. “Stormi went to check on you. That’s the last we heard. So how the fuck she ends up shot and layin’ in a puddle of her own blood on the kitchen floor?”
The words hit me like a car crash. My vision blurred. My ears rang. For a second, I thought I misheard him. “Wait... What?”
He didn’t flinch. Just kept talking. “She came to check on you. And now she’s fighting for her fuckin’ life.”
“Fuck you mean Stormi got shot?!” I yelled, my whole body shaking now. “What the fuck are you saying, Rich?!”
He didn’t answer. Just looked at me like I was already guilty. Like my face was enough to piss him off. We stopped at a red light. Southside reached across the seat and handed him a piece. Rich took it slow, like it was part of some ritual. He lifted it cool and casual, and pressed the barrel under my chin.
“Seth had cameras put up at the house,” Rich said, his voice low, his eyes fixed on me like I was already dead. “Stormi pulls up. You hop in Dre’s car. Dre follows her inside. Couple minutes later… Dre walks out. You and him pull off.”
He leaned in closer, so close I could feel his breath on my face. His next words came slow. “You know how Stormi leaves?”
My mouth dried out, and my tongue felt like it couldn’t move. I didn’t answer.
“In a fuckin’ stretcher,” he growled, and it hit me in the chest like a punch.
A stretcher? Nah. That’s not real. That’s not what the fuck I thought I was gonna hear when I asked.
He kept talking. “Seth’s my brother. That makes Stormi my sister. And that baby she carrying?” He tapped the gun against my jaw. “That’s my godson. The only blood I got left that matters.”
“Rich… I didn’t shoot my sister,” I croaked out. My voice was weak. My body was still. I tried to lean back from the barrel, but he pressed it harder under my chin like he wanted to remind me just how close I was to not leaving this car alive.
“I know Dre pulled the trigger,” he snapped. “But you. You can’t tell me you ain’t hear them shots. You can’t look me in my faceand tell me that music was so loud, or you were that high you ain’t feel the whole fuckin’ air shift.”
“I didn’t,” I stuttered. My voice cracked in the back of my throat. “You think I would’ve just left her there? You think I’d ever let some nigga do that to her?”
“You let it happen,” Rich said, eyes wild, jaw clenching. “And now my sister laid up in a hospital somewhere, while you over here actin’ shocked.”
“Is she dead?” The question left my mouth before I could think about it.
His voice went sharp ... “Dead?” he repeated, tilting his head. “Who the fuck said she was dead?”
I froze. My heart stopped for a second. I hadn’t even realized I said it. I was too busy trying not to fall apart.
“I didn’t know…” I whispered, the words trembling out of me. “I didn’t know, man.”
The tears hit before I could stop them.
