Vegarro “Vega” Moretti
My stomach felt like it was folding in on itself. The surgeon had just basically said there wasn’t much hope. Though he’d said Lowe was still fighting, it didn’t sound like a fight he expected Lowe to win. Every word he spoke felt like a blade sliding under my ribs, twisting slowly.
I couldn’t even look at Lowe’s mother. I felt like less of a man, less of a leader. This had been my call. And now Lowe was fighting for his life because I didn’t listen when Icon told me to move different. I should’ve protected my people better.
“We’ll monitor him closely over the next few hours. If his condition stabilizes, we’ll allow immediate family to see him first. After that, we’ll let you know when others can come in,” the surgeon told us.
Nobody said anything, so he gave us a tight nod, then turned and walked out, just as Rain rushed in. She came through the doors with her purse slipping down her arm, hair a little wild, tears already in her eyes before she made it all the way inside.
“Prodigy,” she said, heading straight for him. “I came as soon as I heard.”
Prodigy stopped pacing and opened his arms. Rain walked into them, holding him for a few seconds.
“Bishop and Milan are on their way,” she said against him.
“Appreciate you,” Prodigy told her.
Dominic Cross had stepped in behind her.
Me and my crew knew of him. Dominic was a criminal defense attorney.
He wasn’t street, but he stayed close enough to street niggas to make you question what side he was really on.
He had shady and violent clients, and the kind of name that came up whenever somebody with money needed a case to bend in their favor.
Rain had most likely met him through Bishop.
Dominic’s character had always made me wonder why Bishop was cool with him.
Bishop had good judgment most of the time, but Dominic came off slimy to me.
He was too smooth, polished, and comfortable around men he claimed he only knew because of court cases.
And he had the reputation of being a whore. His name stayed attached to somebody’s assistant, client, wife, or girlfriend.
Dominic stepped closer to Rain and touched her elbow. “I’m going to head out now that I know you made it in safely.”
Rain turned to him, confused. “You’re leaving?”
He glanced around the room. Wise, Prodigy, Lux, Saint, Reek, Big A, Icon, and Legend were all watching him. None of us spoke, smiled, or made him think he was welcome.
“This is family business. I don’t want to intrude,” Dominic told her.
But I knew that wasn’t why he was leaving. He was leaving because he knew too many men in that room knew he wasn’t shit.
Rain conceded with a weak smile. “Okay. Thank you for bringing me.”
“Of course.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Call me later.”
Dominic dipped, and as the door closed behind him, Rain turned back to us, her eyes drifting from face to face. “Why is everybody being weird?”
Prodigy rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Rain, that nigga moves funny.”
Rain’s eyes ballooned in shock. “Dom?”
Wise let out a short, bitter laugh from near the window.
Rain’s eyes cut to him. “You got something to say?”
Wise lifted one shoulder. “Dominic Cross is the same type of nigga you was warning Tasha about.”
Rain’s face hardened. “Don’t do that.”
“You need to hear it.”
“No, you’re doing it because you’re class resentful,” Rain spit. “He isn’t a street nigga, so automatically he isn’t your type of man.”
Wise stepped away from the window. “You think a suit makes a man clean?”
“I think you hate any man who proves there’s a life outside of guns, clubs, and corners.”
Wise stared at her. “You don’t know that nigga.”
“I’ve been dating him for a few weeks and getting to know him for longer. He’s a good guy.”
Prodigy stepped between them. “Enough. Lowe is in there fighting for his life. We need to be praying, not arguing over dumb shit.”
Rain’s eyes stayed on Wise for another second before she forced herself to focus on Prodigy.
He pointed toward an empty chair, and she plopped down in it, but it was as if her eyes were drawn to Wise, glaring.