Sam's POV:

Well, all things considered, that went easier than I expected.

Mr. Grandinez was able to hold on till the paramedics got there.
As they came into his apartment and worked to stabilize him, police and white shirts converged on the scene.
I gave my statement, so did Smythe.
I noticed the old man kept trying to pull off his oxygen.
As I glanced in his direction, I wasnt surprised to see the cop who was taking my statement's eyes, without hesitation, follow the direction mine went in
He says, "You should really save your breath and not try to speak, Sir"
The old man said clearly, "I...have... breath... enough...for...this...these...boys...saved...me.
They..are...not...who...shot...me...they are...good...boys!"

That little statement had obviously taken alot out of him, because after he said it he closed his eyes.
The emergency tech immediately placed the oxygen mask back on his face and said to his partner "Let's get him over to Temple"

Temple Hospital is a Trauma 1 hospital, and only the most seriously wounded would be taken and admitted there.

I should know, that's where Nik was transported to

This wasn't a coincidence, hardly anything in life is.
I'd spared his life, because he'd saved Nik's, and now he saving mine, and that of my brother's, because of it.
Karma at her best.
She isn't always cold.
What goes around, comes around, and a person's good deeds put good out in the universe.
It was a weighty release and I struggled not to let my absolute joy show.

I got no love for them boys in blue that's for damn sure.
The officer continued on, asking me every type of question, except the color of my draws.
I could feel my temper rising but I still remained respectful and answered all intrusive inquiries truthfully.

Then, it was the Detectives turn.
He asked about my girl.

I told him everything I had just told the cop, he handed me a card and told me that they would need to speak to Nik, and for my brother and I not to leave town.

Great.
I had tried my damnedest to keep her shielded from this, realizing too late I can't.
She has to be questioned, and that's bound to open the wounds that just barely began to close.
She's gonna have to tell this detective everything.
And I gotta let it happen.

All said, whatever was still in Nik's old apartment would have to stay there at least for the time being.
The whole apartment building was basically cordoned off as CSI arrived and began working their part of the job.

Finally we were cleared and told we were free to go.
Words have never sounded so sweet,
I swear!

We cleared up some loose ends with the Salvation Army driver, apologized for the delay but it can't be helped.
He actually had seen next to nothing besides that Caddy skirtin off.
He said he saw two occupants in the car, seen the driver's face and he'd had his gaze focused on the apartment as he passed by the van, for no more than five seconds.
The driver says he doubts the Caddy's occupants even saw him.
They were looking at the house and not him.
I suddenly remembered something, and heart racing, I pulled it from the back pocket of my jeans.
I still had that picture of the dickhead, with his arms around MY girl.
The sadness in her eyes hurt my soul.
I need to burn this picture.
Mouth dry as the Sahara, I asked if this was the man he saw.
He shook his head but also said that he had a similar coldness around his eyes and the same type of build.

For a moment I thought it might be Tristan, Cornell, whatever the cat was calling himself, to be honest.
I need to find out who was driving a tricked out Caddy in South Philly.
There couldn't be that many, we favored Pontiac, Camaro, GMs and the occasional SUV.
I need to make some plans.
I needed somehow to talk to Ceez.
Ask him to keep an eye on who came to visit Tris.
If my intuition was right, even though he hadn't come himself, he was damn sure behind it.
Because of my probation, I couldn't go visit himself, so I needed another way to communicate.
I knew exactly what to do, but Nik won't like this.
She'll do it cause there ain't no way around it unless I could think of it.
I consider Fancee family and ain't wanna do it, but I needed her to speak to Ceez.
Her being there would arouse no suspicion, as that's his girl.
Let's call it a reconnaissance mission.
I smirked, though not with humor.

I drove Dre and Smythe to my crib.
We were all quietly subdued on the way back because each of us were lost in our own thoughts.
I gave my brother a bro hug, dropping him off at his car, which was parked up the block from the house, waited for him to drive off, then parked in the spot he'd just vacated.
I went in, spoke to Dre's girl Tiffany, jogged upstairs to me and Nik's room, changed my shirt.
Mine had blood on it, and what I had to tell Nik was gruesome enough.
Didn't need the bloody image imprinted into her memory as well

I had to prepare her for that detective, and I somehow had to check on Mr. Gardinez.

Here, I thought with Nik's almost being ready to be discharged, that life would get back to normal, but it would appear, we in for some more drama.

Alright, I'm ready!

I drove back up the hospital, parked, exited my vehicle, smoked a square, rolled my shoulders, and went back to her room.
Soon as I saw her a lot of my tension left me.
She was sitting up in bed and it took me a minute to realize what was different.
Almost everything she had been attached to was taken away, she had no IV or anything but a fetal monitor hooked to her
Her hair was gleaming, falling in a riot of silky inky black curls down her back.
I could smell her soap and shampoo from where I was.

She shot me a beaming smile, and my heart almost stopped.
She always says I dazzle her, but in this moment, it's me who's dazzled.
Her eyes light up at seeing me, I smile back at her and my long strides eat up the distance between us in seconds.
I hold her to me and kiss her softly.
She looks at me, and asks me, "what's wrong?"
I ask her how does she know that there is.
She looks at me quizzically and says, "It's in your kiss, which by the way, tastes like tobacco, in your eyes, your stance. Something's on ya noodle, so out with it.
Y'all were gone a really long time, and you came back without Smythe, not to mention Dre.
You're wearing something different than what you left outta here wearing!
So let's have it, what's going on?"

I looked at her in admiration, my lil bitch always has been smart as a whip.
She knew from my kiss, and everything else, somethin was off.

So I sat down, held her, and told her everything.
At the end of that she only nodded and said she knew she'd have to face the police soon.
She thought there might even be charges forthcoming, but I assured her that wasn't the case.
I'd given us alibis for the night I should've killed her ex.
The dickhead himself never implicated her.
She looked at me when I mentioned that and she said sadly, "That's cause he coming for me! I know it. But I'm not scared anymore, I'm ready"
I said, with more heat to my tone than was strictly necessary, "What you mean coming for YOU? This ain't an I, you, me, thing! This a we, us, OUR thing!!
She immediately responded with more spark I'd seen in her eyes for a minute, an her sarcastic side engages with with a roll of her eyes, "Well yeah, the YOU is implied babe!
How I'mma handle him without you.
I got no wins without you.
Look at me.
I tried, I can't beat him.
You ain't nearly as little as me."
She scrunches her nose up at me and winks.
She's adorable, I lose my anger.
"He comes for you, he's gotta go through ME first! Not fa nothing tho Kid, I'm kinda looking forward to that" I said, as I chuckled darkly, remembering last time.
Thought I'd stopped him.
I shouldn't have let him live .
It was my mistake thinking I had him shook.
And that almost cost me HER, so I won't be the same fool twice.
Y'all feel me?

Dre's POV

When I seen that picture of my baby brother and his lil family's murderer,
I felt like I was picked up and thrown in the deepest part of the Pacific.
I'd been away doing a bid, for attempted murder, which of course I beat.
I even knew that cat Cornell, never liked him. Felt like he was so oily he glided when he walked.
He had a slick mouth too, and he always kept his jibs moving.
He had the look of someone who knew the devil personally.
I knew a few girls from he hooked up with around the way and he always did have a problem they said, with his hands.
Since I couldn't stand him, I said very little around him.
Didn't like how he would use my government of DreAndre, instead of just Dre.
That's my real name too.
DreAndre.
Cause my daddy wanted me named for him, Drefon, and my moms wasn't tryna hear that because his name in the big book of baby names said meant troublemaker, if you don't believe me, look it up on that America Online shit.
My momma wanted me named Dreoyn, a play off her name Dreyann
So they literally smushed them together and I got named DreAndre.
Get it, Dre an Dre?!
My pops would joke that they smushed my name together just like they smushed together when they made me.
Like I wanted to hear the story bout how I got made!

My pops has a real comical side with those he loves, his fam.
He was feared and respected in the streets, and even now his name still rang bells!

No wonder I grew up to be a gangsta.
My bloodline is all red, every male has been affiliated.
Including my baby brother, Deacon or Deak as we called him.
He really wasn't the type to join up, but nobody would ever touch him, as
I was a made man.
To do so would invite a fate worse than death, more like inexplicable torture.

Cornball, I mean Cornell, always had a dime on his arm, though none really stayed with him long.
She did though.
Lisette.
She told us later, that she stayed with him, hoping Corny as I call him, would hit her in front of Deak.
She had a thing for him, and he liked her too cause they wound up messing around.
Aight, he shouldn't have fucked her, you ain't supposed to touch no mans girl, but dude wasn't a man.
He more than hit a bitch, he would harm an abuse.
One time is mistake, repeatedly is a choice.
I know some men think its their right to put they hands on they female, but we was raised different.
I never seen my pops raise nothing more than an eyebrow at my momma.
Good thing too, she would have sliced him open with a cleaver if he had.
I carried that action with my own girl, Tiffany.
She had something against Doc though, because I fucked up and told her the idea of dick restriction came from him.
She my heart,my rider, my real one.

I had come to meet Doc in the joint when he intervened and saved me becoming another bloodstain on the concrete, even taking on three dudes and knocking them all out, in quick succession.
He was a bad mamma jamma, but also a 550.
Or in Blood talk, someone not affiliated.
A civilian, not a Brim, but not a Crip.

Tall, tatted, lethal, lean, he saved my life that day in them showers.
When we was finally out the hole,
I sat and kicked it with him, and placed him under my wing
Moved in his "house" became cellies.
Like I told him, he had an ally for life with me.
As our sentences ticked on, we became like brothers.
He was the only person who could stall me out when I was pissed.

I was pissed off at Tiff one day, my temper was up, and I said next visit I was gonna smack her.
I ain't even mean it, I was just that aggravated, but he took me seriously and told me that he couldn't see me ever doing something like that.
Asked if I hit my bitches and I said that I did it once before, but that was before Tiff.
I hated seeing my bitches marked up unless it was a bruise, passion mark, or fingerprints, from some good old boot knocking!
That was years ago though, I was a teenager, barely 15, when I'd struck my ex with a backhand lick for being disrespectful.
My momma found out about that, and when she backhanded me, I called her a bitch.
She cried, and I felt bad, but when she told my pops, he whupped my ass! Only hit me three times.
Once in the mouth for ever thanking I could call my mom's a bitch.
Once in the eye for making her cry.
And then he smacked me in the back of my head for hitting a female, like a chump.
That hurt worse than my lip or eye, but the disappointed look on his face, hurt way more.
I explained it to Doc, he told me about his girl, and how he would get back at her if she showed out, or didn't listen to something he told her not to do, and I gotta admit I adopted the idea.
It had merit.
As more time went on and he made the shit that goes on in there get the best of him, he made her break things off with.
I ain't like he used my girl to do that though.
Who knew that his actions that led me to befriend him, would lead me to my brothers murderer?

He was the only person whom I let near me after Deak......my heart felt like something had it in a vise grip.
It still hurt.
I could go days without really cognizantly thinking on it, then all of a sudden I'd get hit with a wave of memories.
By the time I got out, set on avenging him, he was gone.
The Nation was still looking for Corny, he had a bounty on him.
Philly ain't really a gang related city so he had fled here, the last place we'd think of looking for him.

But now, I knew his location, and I would bide my time and wait, not have him touched in there

I wanted his body under my count.
His blood spilled by my hand.

He made one hell of a mistake touching Deak.
Im a feared leader in the Nation, not some two bit slick mouth shiester!
I'd make him pay for Lisette, their baby, and even throw a lil in for Doc.
I felt like his girl was like my little sister, in the short time since I'd known her.

I'd make Corny remember, he shoulda never, forgot about Dre!!

The shooters POV

I walk through the front door of 2053 Opal Street and immediately hear footsteps overhead.
I'd have to make this quick, in and out.
This was my test, to see if I could become Blood.
I liked it better than shooting a 31.
That meant fighting all 31 members of the crew for 31 seconds.
I wasn't a fighter, more so an intellectual, so this was the first body I'd ever catch.

Maybe the only one.
I had to do like my man Tris told me, or he'd be moving on to someone else.
Couldn't have that, that's for sure.
Nobody would ever suspect me, I had no criminal record, I didn't look like I was capable of it.

As soon as the man opened the door I shot him once in the chest, jetted and was in the car with my get away driver, skirting to Snyder Ave, a block away.

A clean get away.
I had gotten away with murder.