“Who else would it fucking be, Zeek?!” Kross snarled. Ezekiel’s excuses about who was behind pulling the trigger on Cassie and Aniyis prompted him to lose his cool and forgetwhere he was. His outburst attracted eyes from all over the waiting room.
“Hey,” Raquel shouted at both boys to create some order between them. “What in the world has gotten into you two? This is neither the time nor the place for y’all to be bringing up street shit. You guys are brothers and are as thick as thieves. Now ain’t the time to be fighting each other. If anything, this should be bringing y’all together. Y’all are family.”
Shooting lethal glares at each other, they both opted out of going back and forth in Raquel’s presence. Together, they sat in support of Aniyis. It was sad that these were the circumstances that brought them together after all these years. Kross’ prison sentence, Ezekiel’s fast life and Raquel’s and Andres’ converted lives of religion just could never mix until now.
After hours of waiting, Nurse Moriah came through the double doors, prompting the family to all stand to their feet. “How is he? He pulled through, right?” Kross asked desperately.
“He’s stable. His lung collapsed due to the pressure of the ventilator he was on. We were able to recover the lung and put in a chest tube to drain it of any fluid and assist with proper breathing. Aniyis is guaranteed the strongest young man I have ever treated, and I am grateful to be a part of his medical team.” She smiled lightly, bringing a sense of relief to the family.
A relieved breath aired out of Kross as he felt the weight of the world being lifted off his shoulders. Aniyis pulling through once again was proof that miracles actually did happen, and he was so grateful. “Thank you so much,” he expressed his gratitude. “When can I see him?”
“He’s being transferred to Recovery as we speak. I say in a couple more minutes, you’ll be able to see him.”
As promised, a few minutes later, Nurse Moriah returned and ushered Kross to Aniyis’ recovery room. Seeing his baby boy caused his heart to swell. Kross stood at his bedside, peeringdown at his son with so much adoration and love. His hand stroked over his cinnamon brown dreads before he craned down and sat a kiss onto his forehead.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again, ‘Niyis,” was the first thing he said, prompting a light chuckle out of him to deflect the heavy feeling of impending tears that was washing over him. “It’s me and you forever, kid.”
Chapter Ten
Kross sat on the other side of the round table as his eyes glanced over the paperwork that was just given to him. The thick contract contained terms and conditions pertaining to the ownership he was attaining of a small four-building complex in Pompano. When he told everyone he was moving shop, no one expected him to move so quickly, but Kross was locked in and had tunnel vision, and his plan was to conquer and destroy. Meetings and contracts like these weren’t rare for him. He did shit like this before he got locked up, but now, it felt different. He had more of a purpose. Instead of just doing it for the money and the splendor, he had Cassie and Aniyis to think of.
“Mr. Hunter, I understand we’ve had a few conversations over the phone and you’re very adamant on closing on this property, but are you sure you want to finalize everything without a lawyer present?” Mrs. Kinkade asked from across the table.
Despite her getting a huge commission off Kross’ deal, she wasn’t a fan of doing dirty business and wanted everything to be clean. Him pressuring her to make the purchase of the abandoned apartment complex raised a few red flags, but herfirm did a full check of his finances, and everything checked out fine.
Kross shook his head as his eyes scanned over the pages of the contract. “Nah, I’m good. You can process the funds whenever you’re ready,” he assured her before scribbling his signature in the highlighted areas.
Mrs. Kinkade nodded her head, ignoring the questions she wanted to ask him. If his money checked out good, there was no need for the extras, and Kross knew that. He finished signing the contract before sliding it over to her.
In turn, she looked through it to ensure there weren’t any missing signatures before the two met for a firm handshake to seal the deal. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Hunter.”
A debonair smile that was complimented by a few gold slugs cast across his handsome face. “Pleasure is all mine.”
They wrapped up the meeting, and Kross left with a copy of his contract agreement. Before heading back down to Miami to see how the guys were doing with cleaning out the trap, he decided to swing by his newly owned complex. The property had gone untouched for years. Grass rose to knee level, and all the vacant buildings had the windows and doors boarded up. The neighborhood was rundown and neglected, similar to the one he grew up in.
As he stood in front of his Maybach, he gazed at the complex with an accomplished smirk etched on his face. He turned around and fixed his gaze across the street, assessing the foot traffic that ran in and out of the low-income apartments that were still up and running. Kross was strategic and was never ducking any smoke, so he was about to set up shop right across the street from the Zone 7 Disciples’ territory. It was a bold move that foreshadowed how cutthroat he was about to be. He wasn’t playing any games.
Getting into his car, he left the lot he had just purchased and made the quick drive across the street to the Isle Apartments. His Maybach rolling through the apartments had everybody’s eyes peeled back as they wondered who the fuck was in it. He was fresh blood in a sea full of sharks right now, yet not one bone in his body was uncomfortable. He rolled through the hood slowly with his seat leaned back, taking in what the Chicago niggas had going on for themselves.
Kross ain’t know much about them besides the fact that they recently expanded to Florida. From the looks of it, they adapted to the culture and hustle of Florida fairly quickly and had enough balls to come for the biggest crew down South. Whoever was running shit definitely had goals of reigning supreme in Florida and wiping out the Paper Chase Crew. Little did they know, Kross was back, and he had a score to settle. These niggas were going to feel him, and there was no turning him down.
He kept his head on a swivel as he rode through clocking how they operated. On his lap was his piece that was ready to blow if anybody stepped to him incorrectly. He took a turn toward the back of the apartments that was guarded with a few niggas who were strapped. His windows were tinted dark enough for him to ride through without anyone seeing his face, but Kross was on different type of timing. He applied pressure on his brakes, which prompted the vehicle to stop right in front of the building that had niggas posted up in front of it. The men, alarmed by him stopping, all rose from their seats and started clutching the heat they had on them.
“Aye, G, you lost?!” somebody called out from the front porch, causing Kross to lower the window to size him up. The Chicago accent rolled off his tongue as he shot Kross a set of lethal eyes.
The man, who went by the name Tone, stood with his hand in his pocket, ready to blow at any given opportunity. Krosswas sure to take a mental note of his face because he knew this wouldn’t be his last time running into him. He stood six feet tall with a lanky build. His caramel skin was inked in tattoos that even went up to his face. His short dreads draped down onto his face and covered his eyes slightly. The scar that trailed from his left cheekbone down to his jawline was significant, and that was what Kross chose to remember him by.
Amused by the question, Kross allowed a deep chuckle to roll out of him. “Nah, bruh. Do me a favor, though. Tell me who in charge ‘cause I just know it ain’t you.”
Kross’ sly remark struck a nerve, causing the man’s right eye to twitch and his jaw to clench. His eyes surveyed the area around him before fixing themselves back onto Kross, who was waiting patiently for a response.
“Who’s asking?” Tone throated out with his patience thin.
“Tell ‘em Kross. I need whoever it is to know who I am before I pack ‘em up and send them back to Chicago in a body bag.” His tone was calm yet chilling, almost as if he hadn’t just rolled up in another nigga’s hood and issued out threats. The sinister look in his eye made it clear that his threats would come with plenty of destruction.
Unable to let the threat roll off his shoulder, Tone whipped his gun from his pocket, but Kross was able to up his tool that was on his lap before Tone could. With quickness, Kross squeezed the trigger, and gunshots went flying. He was in close range when he shot Tone and witnessed one of his bullets pierce his shoulder. Blood seeped through his white tee as adrenaline kept him from falling on his ass in pain. He, along with the rest of his niggas who were posted up, upped their fire and sprayed at Kross’ Maybach. The screeching sound of the tires burning rubber against the road meshed with the loud pops that aired from their guns. Kross was riding solo, so he kept his foot heavy on the gas to dodge the bullets that came spraying fromTone and his people. They emptied their clips in pursuit of him. However, once he bent the corner out of the complex, they lost him.
Kross had just started a shootout in broad daylight! If it wasn’t clear they were at war before, it was for damn sure clear now. He made a lasting impression, one that he was proud of since he knew it would foster a rage in whoever was the face of Zone 7 Disciples. Fucking with his lady and son brought a different demon out of him, and sadly, this was only the beginning.
