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“What can I say? I’ve been quite forthcoming with my plan for the Crew’s future. All I’ve had to do is point out certain things you and your dad are doing, and they practically beg me to take them away.”
“Too bad you chose your guys poorly. We’ve been able to steamroll right through all of them.”
“They’re in need of training, sure, but shouldn’t the Crew have done that already? Mayhem used to say the Crew was only as strong as the weakest link. In your father’s haste to grow his group, he accepted a shitton of guys who aren’t good for anything. They’re the weak links, Rocket. They were all too easily talked into joining my side.” Oscar’s mom starts to slip, so he hauls her up his body again.
The movement jars her awake, and she blinks. “Gre—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he grinds out. The more alert she becomes, the more difficult it is for him to hold the gun to her and use her as a shield.
“But you said—”
He digs his nails into her upper arm to hold her steady, and she sucks in a breath. Looking at her now, that’s not the first time he, or someone else, has done that to her. She’s marked up all over the place, and they’re not just needle markings either. She’s bruised and frail. She looks far worse than when I saw her at Candy’s before.
“Let her go,” Magnum demands. He steps forward, ready to put an end to this shit.
Gregory makes a clicking sound and steps back. “The infamous Magnum. Your reputation precedes you.”
Oscar’s mom giggles, a phony sound that dies on her lips as soon as Gregory sinks his nails into her again.
“Fuck this,” Oscar growls. He darts forward, slipping from my grasp. Gregory turns, swinging the gun toward him. The movement jostles Oscar’s mom awake, and for a moment, recognition slams into her.
“Wait!” Gregory yells, eyes wide.
A shot fires, and my heart catapults into my throat. For a moment, Oscar’s mom and I are mirrors of each other. Horror stretches across our faces. Disbelief. Fear. Love. The split second of gunfire freezes me in place. I stand there, unable to breathe until the scene ahead of me comes into sharp focus.
Oscar’s still moving, running forward. Gregory and his mom drop in a heap to the cement floor. I start after them, praying Oscar didn’t just see his mom get murdered right in front of him. He leans over the tangle of limbs and pulls her away just as a fresh coat of crimson stains Gregory’s shirt.
I let out a sigh of relief, closing my eyes for a brief moment of reprieve from all the craziness. My guys are okay. Oscar’s mom is okay. And Gregory is dead. Finally.
Magnum bends to one knee in front of Oscar and his mom. “Is she good?”
Now that I’m this close, splatters of blood coat her hair. Magnum’s a damn good shot. Oscar gave him the perfect distraction he needed. Just one opening.
Johnny stands in front of Gregory, taking pictures with his cell phone. He’s no doubt going to send them to his father as proof.
As inhuman as it sounds, the calm serenity I feel at Gregory being dead could almost bring a smile to my face. He deserved what he got. Not because he was going against the Crew, but because he was just like them. Using women as trade. Using innocent people to make others suffer. He wasn’t going to overhaul the Crew to make it better. It would’ve ended the same, and anyone who tried to follow him for promises of a better future was just delusional. Well, now they’re mostly dead, but they were delusional.
I switch places with Magnum and kneel beside Oscar. His mother shakes uncontrollably on the floor. Her red-rimmed eyes search for her son as she clings to him like tomorrow isn’t promised. It’s not. Not for anyone.
I take a seat right next to him, and he unceremoniously drops his head to my shoulder. He’s stiff at first, but then his muscles relax until his breathing becomes shaky and uneven. My Oscar is close to crying or is crying. I scoot closer, putting my arm around him to let him know I’m here. I comfort him while he comforts his mother.
Johnny’s fancy shoes move into view. He clears his throat. “I know she’s your mom, Drego. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.”
Oscar can’t even make words. I’ve seen bits and pieces of his relationship with his mother, but I’ve never seen him as raw as this. Trying to take care of her and himself is too much. He can act as blasé as he wants, but he cares for her deeply, despite her addiction.
Johnny places his hand on Oscar’s shoulder for a moment, and my heart nearly cracks in half at the emotion that conjures. These guys are just too much for me sometimes. To have gone through so much and still have the capacity to care, to grow. Fuck.
He squeezes and lets Oscar go. He brings his phone to his ear again, and I’m sure he’s calling in people to clean up the mess we just made. Or, maybe he’s calling his father to let him know it’s done. Either way, both calls will get made and life moves on.
This is why the Heights is bad. You’re not supposed to move on easily from scenes like this.
Brawler kneels next to us. “We should probably get her to a hospital, man,” he says softly.
Oscar strokes his hands through his mother’s hair, and they come back red. “We’ll get the blood off her first,” he says.
She doesn’t just need a hospital, she needs rehab. She needs a place to go to that will help her get off the fucking drugs. If only for Oscar’s sake. I don’t think I could bear to see him like this again.
When we were talking about who would come with us when we left the Heights, Oscar stated his mom would never leave. But what if she could? What if she got better, and he could have his mom in his life again? That would be the best-case scenario.