Jordan woke up screaming.
The nurse hurried inside. She looked at his heartbeat, adjusted the IV drip.
Nothing made a difference. I stayed close, gripping his hand all the way through the ache, the panic, that split second when he blinked awake and knew this was real.
Lina…" His words broke. "My leg it's…
"Is gonna heal." Squeezed his fingers. "Doctors said you'll walk again. Gonna take time, physical therapy, but you'll be good."
He said they'd tried to end their lives.
"I know, baby."
"Who were they?"
Started to speak. Then stopped. What was there to say? Blame myself? Say I dragged trouble here because wanting more than makeup and praise wasn't enough?
"I don't know yet," I lied. Getting good at those. "But I'm handling it."
"How?"
Leave it to me. Just concentrate on feeling well again. Take it slow. Pull through. The rest? That's on me
Right when I tried to answer right before another excuse came out Maya slammed the door open. Her makeup streaked down her cheeks, eyes swollen, clearly wrecked from endless tears.
She dropped onto Jordan's bed fast, fingers brushing his skin as if she had to feel him there.
"Oh my God oh my God I came as soon as they let me in, they wouldn't let me see you last night" She turned to me. Face a mess.
"Lina what the fuck happened? The news is saying drive by shooting, gang violence, I don't….,,,,I can't,,.,,,"
Outta here." Shut her down with a stare. Nodded toward Jordan. "We'll talk after.
Sure, see you then.
Maya hovering around him, Jordan pretending to stay strong though his hands trembled.
My phone vibrated. Bishop again. Mission's over now. Just need you here.
Stood up. Kissed Jordan's forehead. "I gotta handle some business. Maya's gonna stay with you, yeah? And there's security outside your door. Nobody gets in without my say-so."
"Lina....."
"Rest, Jordan."
Left quickly so he wouldn't start talking. So I wouldn't catch that scared look on his face, one that matched how bad I already felt inside.
The salon sat in Harlem just one of my smaller spots. Not a busy time. No lights on. Entry doors shut tight. Yet the back area? That space stayed lit, ready for action.
Came in the back door. Bishop kept it open, so I could get through. My key crew was already inside five faces I've known from the start. Folks who knew trust buys favors, while keeping quiet means everything.
"Speak up," I told him.
Slung my bag onto the counter. The outfit soaked in blood had vanished now wearing dark jeans, a gray hoodie, all in shadow tones.
Bishop pulled up a map on his tablet. "Scorpions operate out of three main spots. Stash house in the Bronx, strip club in Queens they use as a front, garage in Brooklyn for stolen cars."
"How many people?"
"Maybe twenty total. Half are just corner boys. Real muscle is like eight guys." He zoomed in on surveillance photos. "Leadership is three brothers, Carlos, Miguel, and Junior Martinez. Carlos is the brains, Miguel's the muscle, Junior handles distribution."
"Which ones shot at me?"
"Miguel drove. Junior was the shooter." Bishop's voice went flat. Emotionless. "Carlos gave the order."
I looked at the pictures. Not just any guys three who believed they'd steal from me. Believed they'd harm my brother. Believed I was fragile, easy to wipe out.
They were just going to learn something new.
"What's going on, chief?" Kira said. Top driver I ever worked with. He'd snag a car fast thirty seconds flat and have it gone by fifty if needed.
Glanced across the room at familiar faces some had bled alongside me, others stood their ground right next to mine. This crew helped shape everything back when no one believed a kid from the blocks could ever make it anywhere.
"We're not starting a war," I said carefully. Let them lean in. "Wars are messy. Loud. Bring heat we don't need."
Paused.
"We're sending a message. One they'll never forget."
"What's the message?" Malik wondered. Former soldier. Hands didn't shake. Thoughts stayed clear.
"The kind that says touching my family has consequences." Pulled up the stash house location on my phone. "This is where they keep their re-up, right? Main supply?"
Bishop nodded. "Last count was maybe fifty keys. Plus cash. Whole operation runs through there."
"Then that's where we hit." Met each of their eyes. "No bodies. I want this clean in and out, take everything, leave them with nothing but the understanding that I could've killed them but chose not to."
"That's the message?" Kira frowned. "Mercy?"
"Nah." Smiled. "Message is that I'm so far above them, killing them ain't even worth my time. But ruining them? Making them watch everything they built disappear in one night? That's the message. That's the fear."
Looks changed as it clicked for them.
"When?" Malik asked.
"Tonight." Checked my watch. "They'll be doing their Thursday count. Most of the crew there, focused on the money. Perfect time to catch them slipping."
"And if they fight back?"
"Then we fight better." Met his eyes. "But I want Carlos alive. And the brothers. Got something special planned for them."
Bishop cracked open the case. Then handed out the gear radios, tactical stuff, silencers. We'd run through this routine earlier; it's how chaos gets planned.
"One more thing." Stopped them before they could leave. "This stays quiet. Cops don't hear about it. Streets don't hear about it until we want them to. We're ghosts. Understand?"
A loud "yes boss" bounced around the space.
Right. Took my gun nine millimeter from the car, wiped down and loaded. Time to show these assholes what happens when they push us
The stash house sat in a quiet part of town locals stayed out of other folks' business. Windows had metal grilles, the front entrance was built tough, while watchers kept watch from both corners nearby.
Amateur hour.
We arrived in three groups. Malik's group handled the guards quiet and quick, using zip ties plus tape. No one managed to shout for aid. Kira's squad killed the electricity, leaving the house pitch-black. Meanwhile, Bishop and I walked right through the front entrance like we belonged there.
Becomes soon we'd start just around five minutes off. Then it happens; time runs quick.
The door blew open using a shaped charge noisy enough to stun, but lowkey so nearby folks wouldn't notice. Right after the smoke, we moved in fast, goggles making the blackness look like sunlight, every step smooth from repetition.
Ground level had nothing inside. The kitchen sat quiet, a tired couch nearby both stuck in time since 2005, hopes faded slow. Furniture didn't match the years, more like reminders of plans that never moved.
Basement's where things came alive.
Could hear 'em coming shouts bouncing off walls, the quick crackle of bills flipping through fingers, that sharp sting of raw powder in the air. Down we went, step by step, quiet as trouble.
We'd already arrived before they noticed.
Three guys sat around a table piled with cash and bricks. Nearby, two others leaned against the wall, guns tucked into their pants, looking lazy and clueless. Over in the corner, watching everything Carlos Martinez, no doubt about it.
Bishop hit the first guard with a taser, dropping him fast. Meanwhile, Malik handled the second guy without delay. Those sitting at the table bolted upright, trying to grab guns yet Kira beat them to it. She had her weapon snug on the closest man's head before he moved.
"Stop." Her tone stayed flat. Uninterested, really. "Put your hands down right here. Right now."
They complied.
I moved into the glow. Then dropped my hood let them get a look. Saw it click. Right after, saw the worry rise.
"Evening, gentlemen." Smiled. "Hope we're not interrupting."
Carlos acted calm. He sat up stiff in his seat. "You've got some balls "
Bishop struck he didn't wait. Quick, harsh blows came one after another. A gun slammed across his mouth, tore the skin, stopped his yelling.
"Let's try this again." Walked slowly around the table. Trailed my fingers across the stacked bills. "You made a mistake tonight. Came at me and mine. Put my baby brother in the hospital."
Paused right by Carlos. Then bent low, matching where he sat.
"Now I could kill you. Would be easy. Would be justified even. But see, I'm not interested in easy." Looked him dead in the eye. "I'm interested in making sure this never happens again."
"We was just….." Carlos started.
Hold on. He put a finger to his busted lip. Wait don't speak yet. I'm saying something
He fell silent. His eyes widened.
"Here's what's gonna happen. My people are gonna take every brick, every dollar, every piece of product you got. Y'all gonna sit tight, nice and quiet, while we work. And when we're done, you're gonna deliver a message for me."
"What're you talking about?" His words trembled.
Got to my feet. Glanced over my team was clearing out the place, one item at a time. Stuffing gear into backpacks like they'd done it a hundred times before.
"You tell everyone who asks what happens when you touch what's mine." Pulled out my phone. Snapped a photo of him bloody, beaten, broken. "You tell them the Queen don't start wars. She ends them."
"You think you can just….."
Held him back before he could speak. Took his hand, smashed it down hard, pressed the gun's edge right on his little finger.
"I think I can do whatever the fuck I want." Voice went cold. Arctic. "Only question is how many pieces of you I send back to your mama."
He stopped dead. Clever kid.
"This is for my brother," I said quietly.
He yanked the trigger after a quick breath.
The muffled gunshot seemed quiet almost respectful. But Carlos's yell? Nothing close.
By the doorway, I looked back. Carlos had tears running down sudden shock hit him, then hurt, like everything he knew cracked open right there.
"Tell everyone what happens," I repeated. "And Carlos? Consider this mercy. Next time someone I love gets hurt? I won't leave you breathing."
We vanished into the dark like mist - five heavy bags heavier. With that one mess cleared up.
Back at the shop, we split up what we'd taken. The stash got broken down and passed around. Money would go through layers to look legit. As for the warning what then?
Message would spread like wildfire.
"That was cold, boss," Malik said. Respect in his tone. "Taking everything but leaving them alive? That's gonna scare people more than bodies would."
"That's the point." Accepted a towel from Bishop. Wiped Carlos's blood off my hands.
"Dead men can't carry warnings. But broken ones? They talk. They tell stories. They make sure everybody knows what line not to cross."
My phone vibrated. It was Maya, Jordan needs you now, she said. He's wide awake.
Guilt churned deep inside. Even though I wandered around acting like royalty, my brother lay hurt, scared, on cold sheets no one beside him.
"We okay?" I said to Bishop.
"Clean as it gets. No witnesses, no trace. Far as anyone knows, Scorpions just had a bad night."
"Perfect." Grabbed my bag. "Get that product moving. And put word out I'm taking meetings. Anyone with concerns about recent events can come talk directly. Let's make sure everyone understands the new landscape."
"You got it."
Off to the exit. Dead tired but buzzing. My trigger hand's still twitching kickback left a jolt.
Phone rang once more. Another number this time. Didn't recognize it.
The message was short: Great job tonight. Yet there were gaps. Let's chat. Someone who knows
Glanced at the text. Cold shiver raced up my back.
Nobody ought to find out what happens tonight just my team's allowed in on it.
That suggested one thing maybe there was a crack….
Maybe someone else just joined the game.
Whichever path you pick, things just turned trickier.
Wiped out the message. Slid into my ride. Rolled down dark roads heading to the hospital heading to my brother, moving into whatever mess was forming ahead, thick as thunderheads.
Detective Stone's words echoed: Everybody's got something to lose.
Yeah. They did.
I'd just showed once again how far I'm willing to push when it comes to guarding my own.
Wondering just how far they'd push to steal it away.