Nothing.
It’s empty.
Oh no.
I pray the little medicine I got is enough to keep me alive until help arrives.
Ifhelp arrives.
I whimper as a wave of pain slices through my abdomen and lower back. My contractions have started.
“You goin’ act like somebody pissed in your cornflakes all night?” Cricket asks with a chuckle.
“Fuck off,” I growl and down another shot, savoring the clear, bitter liquid as it slides down my throat.
He chuckles. “You’re in love, bro. That girl has had you wrapped around her pinky finger since you were twelve.”
“I can’t love.” I grab the bottle of tequila and pour myself another shot. “Don’t know how. Even if I did, I could never love her. Not after what she did.”
Zilphia broke me in every way a person can be broken. If Zeus hadn’t found me and put a gun in my hand, I would’ve been six feet under long ago. Killing became my therapy. Killing gave me power. Killing made me forget…her.
Wishful thinking on my part. Zilphia was always in the back of my mind, like a fucking fly that wouldn’t go away.
“Yeah, you do.” He reaches into the bowl of mixed nuts between us on the bar and pops a few into his mouth. “Your brand of love is just all kinds of fucked up.”
“Keep yapping, and I’m going to beat your ass up and down this bar.”
“Damn,” he tsks, shaking his head. “You need anger management, dude.”
I grunt. “Smart ass.”
Cricket shoots me a thoughtful look, all traces of humor gone. “I never liked Zilphia, but you chose her. Just don’t lose yourself again.”
Before I can respond, the music dies mid-beat, and the lights snap on. I bound to my feet, Glock gripped tight in my hand, scanning the room for danger. Cricket is at my side, his weapon drawn.
“If you’re not a God, get the fuck out!” Jigsaw shouts at the crowd.
“What the fuck is going on?” Cricket mumbles.
Zeus watches me from across the bar, fear and anger etched on his rugged features. The fine hairs on the back of my neck rise. In almost four years, I’ve never seen him show fear.
Draco, Jigsaw, Tank, and Butch stand huddled with him, whispering among themselves. We push through the throng of bodies toward them. A good number of brothers are here tonight.
The room hums with low voices and restless energy as they await orders.
“What’s up?”
Zeus and Jigsaw share a look, but no one answers.
“Somebody gonna talk?” I snap.
“Snake’s been shot,” Zeus replies, his voice raw with anger. “He’s in surgery now.”
“What are his chances?” My blood is boiling, but I force myself to stay calm for now. But make no mistake, I’m going to paint the streets red with the fuckers who went after my brother.
“Don’t know, they wouldn’t say over the phone.” He lets out a thunderous roar and flips the nearest table.
Jigsaw places a firm hand on his shoulder. “That kid’s been tough since he was in diapers. A few bullets won’t take him out.”
