JAYLEN CARTER was only twelve when he first learned how fast a life can end.
The sound of sirens was his alarm clock. Not birds. Not mom's voice. Just sirens screaming through his window like they were hunting someone. That's how it always was on 148th Street.
His building stood like a tired old man—cracked bricks, broken windows, graffiti that told stories of love, death, and lost dreams. The hood was all Jaylen knew. No father. A mother who worked two jobs and barely smiled anymore. And an older brother, TYRELL, who had already traded textbooks for trigger fingers.
That morning, Jaylen stepped out with a dollar in his sock and a hunger in his chest. Not just for food, but for *more*—for something beyond the concrete.