Zion had never been the loudest in the crew. He didn't chase clout, didn't flex on the 'Gram, and rarely even posted. But when it came to loyalty, Zion was louder than gunfire.
He'd stayed out the streets for years, working double shifts at the car wash to help his grandma keep their apartment. He didn't rap, didn't sell, didn't bang—but he was family. Jaylen's day one. The kind of brother who showed up, no questions asked.
So when Jaylen launched the *Roots Before Riches* foundation—aimed at giving hood kids access to art, music, and therapy—Zion stepped in to run the books. Quiet, clean, and efficient.
Until one night changed everything.
Jaylen was headlining a benefit concert downtown. The venue was packed. Energy high. But outside, an old beef was boiling. One of the crew from a rival block pulled up, saw Jaylen's van, and waited.
Zion stepped out first.
He never carried.
He wasn't the target.
But he took the bullet.
One.
Right in the side.
Jaylen heard the shot from inside and ran. The crowd scattered like smoke. But Zion? He stayed on his feet long enough to say, "Keep going. Don't stop. This don't end here."
Paramedics rushed in. Zion lived.
But everything changed.
Jaylen canceled the tour dates that week—not out of fear, but fury. He held a press conference two days later. Raw, unfiltered, real.
"This is why we don't run. This is why we fight—*smarter*. Not with straps. With power, position, and purpose."
Zion's shot lit a fire.
Donations doubled. Community leaders joined. Even city officials stepped in. The block wasn't just watching anymore—they were rising.
Zion healed. And when he returned to the office, Jaylen handed him a gold-plated clipboard.
"From now on," he said, "you sign the checks."
Because loyalty? Loyalty gets paid *in legacy*.