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forty-seven

. . .

"Leave your phone with me,” Keon urged as Maximus pulled a hoodie gingerly over his body.

“Ride around to our normal spots.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Maximus checked himself out of the hospital days before he should have.

His artery was stitched back together, the wound was dressed, and the bullet fragments were gone.

He refused to take the medicine, even ripped the IV out of his arm that was administering it, he made a terrible patient.

The doctors and nurses had done their jobs.

Everything else, he could figure out. There were pressing matters at hand.

Shit he couldn’t handle from a hospital bed or laid up with Eden.

Shit he had to handle himself. At the top of his list was Augustus.

As he dressed, their lives together played on a loop. The pain he suffered at his brother’s hands pierced through his heart more painfully than the shot to his shoulder. Cain and Abel. This time, Abel was coming to get what was owed to him in blood.

“You sure you want to do this?” Keon questioned, checking Maximus’ temperature.

Maximus placed the gun he’d been carrying since his release into the back of his sweats.

“You were there, weren’t you? You saw where he aimed?

Eden. He wasn’t trying to take me out. He shot at the one thing that will unravel me.

You understand me, nigga? I'll lose rap and all this before I lose her. No one gets to take that from me. No one. I’m sure. ”

Keon held his hands up. “I needed to make sure you weren’t going to nut up.”

“I don’t ever nut up. I ain’t a fuckin’ pussy,” Maximus stated. “I’ll check in when it’s over.”

Keon handed over the keys to the unmarked car and slapped the back of his neck. “This is your last mission, nigga. Make it count and don’t ever look back.”

They parted ways. Keon was going to create plausible deniability for Maximus. Maximus didn’t know that when Keon pulled him into a brotherly embrace, he’d slipped his phone into the pocket of Maximus’s hoodie.

Back in Trae Way, Maximus crept down the street, spotting the house Augustus had been laying low in.

Ever since their mother’s house went to probate court, Augustus had been surfing from trap to trap.

Running up a tab with Mama, attempting to fuck off his debt and whatever else she told him to do, he was in too deep to get out.

Through the back door of the house, Maximus, in a hoodie with a ski mask pulled over his face, crept through, finding his brother in a room. Augustus was counting money, probably money he’d stolen from one of the fiends.

“What’s goodie, nigga?” Maximus asked.

Augustus’ eyes grew wide, finding his brother on the other side of the barrel.

“Yeah, you look like you seen a ghost.”

“Mama told me to do that shit, nigga,” Augustus spoke up, reaching under the table.

Maximus shot through the table, piercing Augustus’ wrist.

“Ah fuck!” Augustus grabbed his wrist with the hand holding the money.

Maximus sent a bullet through that one, forcing Augustus to fall to the floor. A bullet through each ankle. “Four shots. Four years of being shackled and shuffled around.”

He shot him in the shoulder. “That’s for that weak ass shot you took at me.”

Maximus stooped over his brother, writhing in pain on the floor.

“You can play as many games as you want with Mom. She’s a lost cause.

She’ll never choose me or herself. There’s always going to be something somewhere else that she chooses.

But my lady. My heart. My fuckin’ sanctuary.

You tried to take that from me. You took Priya, I was never gon’ trip over that. ”

“Fuck you, nigga.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.” Maximus stood, putting distance between them, and fired the final shot through Augustus’ dome, splitting it like a melon. “It’s fuck you forever, nigga.”