Bryce's P.O.V.

A distinct flow of adrenaline pumped into my bloodstream. I shifted into the primal instinct of flight or fight. Someone was going to die today, and it wasn't going to be me.

I was buzzed, with acute vision and open eyes – mindful of my whereabouts and the lanky shadows that stretched across the ceilings like cloaked villains of the night. I let the mental high takeover. This wasn't the time to second guess. I lived on impulse in this mindset, detaching my conscious and feeding off the energy that was circulating through my veins.

Rocking back in my shoes, I cocked the gun to the side, popped it open and spun the cylinder that contained the bullets. I counted six inside of the chamber. Unless I got lucky and used one bullet on three guys, I had no other choice but to not miss and use this weapon sparingly.

If the opportunity presented itself, I had to steal a gun of theirs. We couldn't get out of here alive without doing that. The likelihood of me getting one of the guns off them was low. I was willing to try though. I was willing to try anything if it had a form of hope laced on it.

I had gotten myself into similar scenarios in the past, just with a little less pressure weighted down on me. They had 300,000 dollars' worth of merchandise on them. Depending how they cut it and if they would add a filler to maximize profit, it could double the amount.

Julio was behind this ambush. His piss-stain of a mark was written on it. I knew his cheapskate self would transform the high-quality coke into diluted stepped on coke, pricing it the same but losing the true value of it. His customers were too brainless to question him, agreeing to whatever ludicrous cost he had up.

I rewrapped Conner rope to appear like they were untampered with and reapplied the tape to his face.

Pretend I'm not here, I mouthed to him.

Hunched forward, I crawled to the table to the left of me with a black sheet on top. I snuck underneath, holding my breath at the sound of the voices growing louder. I was curious to see who had decided to die today by crossing me. Pressing my face to cold cement floor, I wiggled my finger under the fabric that draped over the table and pushed it up.

I was wrong.

Julio wasn't amongst the eight hoodlums that tied up Conner, Anthony, and the girls. They were strangers, geared up in camo and bandana's partly covering their faces.

With a partially shielded face, I could easily identify Julio from a mile away. He had a deep scar from his ear to the top of his forehead. All thanks to me.

Two men stayed halfway up the stairs, sweeping the room with their riffles pointed and their fingers on the trigger.

"I could've sworn I heard a voice." One of the two guys with the riffle said. "Maybe it came from outside. Check outside."

"I don't see anyone though. What do you think boss?" Someone else joined in.

A figure with a semi-automatic, standing at the bottom of the stairs, was given full attention from everywhere – that must've been the boss. They wore a large beanie, adding an extra layer of protection so I couldn't see who they were. Their identify was a mystery to me, but still, I knew it wasn't Julio. This person was thinner than he was, and had a slimmer physique.

After checking to see if the coast was clear, the boss handed their weapon to one of their men, and lowered the bandanna to showcase their ruby-red lips and took off the beanie. Silky brunette hair tumbled down her back.

Her.

I was getting robbed by a woman. She couldn't be older than twenty.

I'd heard rumors of female gang leaders, but a lot of us brushed it off as folklore. Not because we didn't think girls were capable, but because women really weren't interested in this line of work. Griselda Blanco was the first female cocaine drug lord I had heard of, and with knowing that, I never crossed paths with anyone like her. I stuck to my beliefs that girls didn't go for this lifestyle.

Until now.

"I don't think anyone's out there though," one of her men announced. "We should finish these people off and get going."

"I like the idea. Go outside, see if there's any cars that weren't there before. If you see any, slash their tires." She sneered ferociously. "Go. The three of you, scan the vicinity and don't miss any corners. No one's leaving here alive. I don't need any witnesses."

Three guys exited out of the warehouse, guns slung to their sides. The one who had backtalked to the leader got stopped, held by the collar. "Oh, not so fast. You're not leaving."

"I thought you wanted me to go—"

"I said you're not leaving," she repeated, stabbing him with a cold stare that could send anyone into a whirling fit of fear. Her frown did not fall, but her hand did drop from his shirt collar. "Turn around," she hissed to the four remaining members.

They obliged and faced the walls. The two of them stood toe to toe in the middle of the main room. In a swift, seamless motion she tossed his gun, sliding it across the floor and angled her own into his stomach. "What did I say about second-guessing my commands? We've been over this."

His chest puffed up, hyperventilating with his life hanging on by a thread. "Audrey, I—"

She let out a high pitched shrill. "And what did I tell you about saying my name during a job? Now I have to cover my tracks with these people."

He licked his trembling lower lip. "You were going to kill them anyway."

"Again, with the backtalking." Audrey boomed, jabbing her barrel into him. "Who should I start with? I have many choices. Including you." She peered back at Conner, Anthony, and the other girls. "But I think I'd rather start with them."

"What about the blonde? Hmm. That's a nice pick." She strolled up to him, twirling her fingers through his sunburnt golden hair. Roughly, she yanked his head back, kneeling down to the floor. Her mouth was directly adjacent to his ear. "He's cute. Maybe I can keep him for fun," she purred, snagging his ear with her teeth.

Audrey ripped off the tape on Conner. "What do you think? Do you want to live or die, pretty boy?"

"How about you," Conner panted, "fuck off."

In the matter of two seconds, Conner knocked a punch into the back of her skull, making her to fall to the floor and dropping her weapon without much time to recover from the blow. Abruptly, he snatched up her weapon and forced her to stand up, holding her against him with the gun pointed to her temple.

"One move and I'll pull the trigger," he threatened. They resisted his order and aimed their guns at him. "I swear to God, I'll blow her brains out."

An opportunity showed itself to me, brief and overwhelming when it hit me like a storm. Flatting myself to the floor, I slid out of from under the table. I'd be spotted if I stood to my feet, but staring at them from the corner was safe. Poking it from under the table would be too obvious with my long, bulky silencer.

I chose my target and secured my hold on my revolver, shooting one of her men in the throat. I crept back, out of view. A wave of frenzy coated over them, talking loudly at their fallen comrade.

"Where did that come from? I'll check outside. That's where the sound came from." One of them concluded. The heavy metal door creaked open and shut moments later.

Either they were clueless at how shooting worked or they didn't know how silencers operated. I would've noticed the sound coming from within the building. They blindly went with the first guy's suggestion.

With Conner holding up their leader, it left us with an even team. Three against three was doable. For whatever reason, if her men started trickling back in like ants, it would be manageable. Hopefully the shooting will scare them away.

I returned to my spot, aiming for another.

In sync with my revolver, I shot another one of her men as a bullet sailed in my direction.

I heard their gun go off before I realized I'd been successfully shot.

Falling back, I cursed while touching the broken skin. Sharp, white hot pain sliced through my right arm. They had gotten me in the bicep. It was one shot, yet it burned all over, charging an ache to my wrist.

"I told you someone was in here," Audrey snickered. "He was under the damn table."

"One step towards him and I'll shoot," Conner warned.

His gun rang without a beat of hesitation. I'm too hurt to see who he shot at.

I put as much pressure as I could on the wound, but I was bleeding profusely. I was certain that the bullet had shattered a bone. In the process of getting shot, I had thrown my gun down and tucked my legs under myself, enduring the pain that shook into me. A crimson river spilled through my clenched fingers, bright as a ribbon of blood.

"Where's the pocket knife?" Conner stood over me, digging in my pockets. My eyes wouldn't open all the way. I reached into the pocket on the inner-lining of my jacket and handed it over.

The loss of blood was setting a toll on me. I blinked in and out of consciousness, tasting a hint of something metallic dancing on my tongue.

I quickly discovered it was my cheek. I'd bitten so hard on it that I had caused it to bleed, too.

"You're bleeding everywhere." Anthony noted after a short moment of darkness. Bending to his knees, he took off his jean jacket. A tightness coiled my wound. I gritted my teeth, bearing them as he added pressure. "Don't move."

"I wasn't planning to," I joked with a faint smile.

His crooked grin was the last thing I saw before I blacked out, allowing the vast darkness hug me into an eternal sleepy. My excruciating pain subsided the deeper I fell into the endless abyss I called my mind. 

I never thought dying would be so peaceful.

Sophia's P.O.V.

"Bad things happen on rainy days."

That's what my abuela used to say to us. The night of Rio's accident, it was raining. She told us this because her father and mother both died on rainy days, and incidentally, so did her husband.

It was raining today.

Hard.

My mom's house shuddered at the heavy flow of water that restlessly banged the windows.

I wasn't a superstitious person. I thought things happened for a reason. Karma wasn't something I relied on. Sometimes bad things happened to good people, and you just have to live with it. That was my motto.

With that straightened out though, I let my mind wander on the idea that something tragic was going to occurred - whatever that may be.

I exhaled into my coffee mug and smiled at my own idiocy. Nothing bad was going to happen. I was freaking out for no reason.

Jamie zig-zagged throughout the house with his Batman cape, making his own sound effects with each sharp turn he made. Zoom and zip were his words of choice.

I bought it for him yesterday when we were at the store. I had extra cash on me so I let him grab one thing he wanted. He walked right up to the costume. They've been inseparable since.

I got to my mom's house on Saturday afternoon. I was keeping my word. Like it or not, I had to help prep for the family dinner tomorrow. She claimed it was for my birthday, but the whole dinner wasn't something I asked for. I'd have to tolerate that dinner like I did with most of my failed relationships - with a hint of humor and a little bit of self reflection afterwards.

My tía from my moms side was supposed to stop by with her daughters. She promised to assist as much as possible since it was a fairly large dinner. Mom had this set in advance for weeks.

"Remind me to hide when they start arriving," my brother Rio told me. He wheeled in to the living room in his chair and stopped next to the couch. "The last thing I need is that noisy family asking me a million and one judgement questions."

I sighed. "Tell me about it. I still remember when she asked mom if I'd gotten into prostitution because of the rip jeans I was wearing."

She was one of those kinds of aunts. The type that said things like "oh, look at my perfect daughters. Why can't yours be like mine?"

Little did she know that her oldest daughter was the one who got me a fake ID during my senior year and bought my first beer at the impressionable age of sixteen. The middle daughter was no saint either. Speaking of saints, she had gotten expelled from four different catholic all girls schools in the span of two months.

Two. Months.
That had to be a record somewhere.

I wanted to know what she did to get kicked out that often. My brother Rio and I have concocted numerous answers to how she did it, but our fictional stories were too farfetched to ever be considered.

Her mother wouldn't admit that her "precious angel" did anything wrong. She blamed the schools. Sometimes even the nuns. The first time, that excuse worked. But once she hit number four, that routine lie was less believable.

"Telephone!" Jamie screamed at the top of his lungs. He ran up to me with the house phone. "It's for you. Some lady is on the other end."

I took the phone and held it to my thigh. "Did she say who she was?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I can't read minds. I don't have superpowers."

"Oh, that's right. Sorry, Batman." I mumbled and ruffled his hair with my fingers, ruining his fohawk.

He cried out in resistance. I laughed, loving how he hated it. "I worked all day on this!" He whined and zip-zoomed away, less enthusiastic this time.

"Hello?" I said into the phone. "Who's this?"

"Hey. It's Kelsey. I got your number through your friend Nicolas. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh. No, it's okay. Uh, hey Kelsey. What's up?"

My stomach went into knots when she didn't say anything right away.

"Are you doing anything right now?"

"What is it? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's not about me. It's about Bryce. He's in the E.R. He's not doing too well."

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Words used in this chapter:

Tía - aunt

Abuela - grandmother

(From the last chapter) Tío - uncle

Stepped on Coke - Cocaine that has an added substance to it, typically powdered milk. Dealers do this so they can stretch a buck and sell more by mixing in the powdered milk. This makes the coke less pure. It's called stepped on coke because it's usually put into a tight box and then stepped on so it can be compact.

note : I only know this because I did research on this crime world so Bryce seems more knowledgeable lol 😇