That all went to shit when I turned sixteen. Uncle was demanding I join, or get out, and I didn’t have anywhere to go but to Dre’s brother. Dre was already fully in, had been for years, and the rest of the brothers were ready to welcome me. That weekend my uncle was arrested, and it was all over the streets that his boys blamed me.

One night they came looking for me, and in looking for me, ended up murdering Dre instead. It’d been a drive-by that I hadn’t even been present for; I’d been hooking up with some chick from school. But after that, I hadn’t had a choice, Romero made me join as a payment for getting Dre killed. The other half of the payment was retribution on the men involved in the drive-by.

Those were the first three men I killed. But they hadn’t been the last in the eight years since I’d gotten in. Most of the brothers could do as they pleased, as long as they followed the rules. Me? If I didn’t do what Romero asked, Romero swore he would make me join Dre six feet under. I hated this life, and I hated who I’d become. But I swore to myself that one day I would get out and start over far away from this shithole. Now, more than ever, I was craving that life because of the girl not ten feet away from me. I would get out . . . someday. Until then, this fucked-up family was all I had.

About four years ago, the core of our family—the “originals”—started cooking up and dealing meth out of a house in the ghetto. Part of initiation into the gang was spending a year there; after that, you were introduced to the rest of the family. From there you could choose to come and help keep the family running, or stay in the meth house. Or, as Romero liked to put it: “work or play.” Close to a year and a half ago, Romero started up saying two of the new brothers were cops. He was so sure they were and was waiting for things to play out. But that waiting had cost him, and the rest of the cores, their freedom. Every member in the meth house was in prison now, including all of the originals.

Once the two cops started showing back up around Florida after a few months of lying low, Romero had Jaime and I begin the long journey of making them . . . disappear . . . in a way that couldn’t come back on the family. It would have been a perfect time for me to try and get out. But Jaime and Marco had taken over the family and were stricter than the originals had been. A week before we were supposed to do the hit, one of the pigs got a girl, and everything changed. Jaime was sent to watch the cops, and I was to track the girl’s every move.

Over the next four months, that’s exactly what I’d done.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t just tracked her every move. I’d fucking fallen for her. A girl who, at the time, I’d never spoken to. And now . . . a girl who would always hate me.

Kash

JUMPING OUT OF MY TRUCK, I put my hood up and kept my head low. I was well known in this part of town, as was Mason, starting back before we’d been made while we were with Juarez’s crew. People knew us for the gangs we had been in, and now people knew us because we were in the gang unit.

For the most part, the residents around here were cool with us. They knew our background, and knew that we tried to help them when shit went bad around here. Which was pretty much all the time. But that didn’t mean they didn’t start alerting the entire damn neighborhood that cops were nearby when they saw us either.

Looking around to make sure activity looked normal, I waited until I spotted the lookouts. When I was sure they were going about business as usual, not noticing me, and people weren’t running into their houses, I took off through an alley behind me. Turning on Second Street, I walked and rounded the corner at Maple before slowing down. Just before I hit Third Street, I ducked my head even lower and looked to the left as I brought my right hand up the back of my head and over. Just as I hit my forehead, I paused and tapped twice with my index finger before dropping my arm and continuing my slow walk.

Not more than four steps later, another pair of feet came up next to me.

“What up?”

I snuck a quick glance and tried not to smile to myself. Shawn. Little, gangly Shawn. Exactly the kid I’d been hoping for. I fucking hated that they were sending him out to confirm their deals, but at least he would scare easy.

“Nice night, yeah? Lots of stars out.” His voice shook as he looked back and forth.

I knew this game, and I knew it well. “If nights are what you’re into.”

Shawn tried to look in my hood at my response, and I dipped my head lower. “Yo, man. I think you’re on the wrong street if you’re looking for something else. The walkers are on Seventh.”

“Street’s right. I’m just not looking for stars, understood?”

“All we got are the stars out here, ya feel? I think you best find your way home.” He started to turn around, so I hurried to make my request.

“No price tonight. I don’t want stars. I want to see the Sun.”

“Sun’s not out, ya know?”

“I’m sure the Sun will make an exception.” Turning my head toward him, I quieted my voice so it wouldn’t carry over the street. “You say my name out loud, or you make me, I put Sunny and his boys away for this operation they got going on. And since you’re out here setting up drug deals, then that means you’d go down too. If you cooperate, then I don’t say a fucking word. Got me, Shawn?” His body started to tense so I spoke quickly. “You alert a lookout, and you’re all in prison, I’m not playing around. I want. To see. The Sun.”

Shawn worked at relaxing his body and turned to face me as he pulled his phone out. I lifted my head enough that he could see my face, but not so much that anyone watching us would be able to. His eyes widened momentarily, but he did a good job at remaining calm and searching through his contact list.

“I help you,” he said so soft I almost didn’t hear him. “I got your word I don’t go down for trying to sell to a jackbooted thug?”

I snorted. “As long as all of you cooperate. I came alone. Sunny’s boys can check me for wires inside. Now make the call.”

“Whatcha coming ’round here for anyway, Kash?” he asked as he lifted the phone to his ear and looked around the street.

“Don’t say my name out here. Just get me in to see him.”

Nodding, he waited until someone answered. “No stars, he wants to see the Sun. That’s what I said, but he said the Sun will make an exception”—he lowered his voice—“and I really think the Sun should, ya feel? Yeah. Yeah.”

“Tell them,” I prompted him, and Shawn looked at me like I was insane. “Tell them, but don’t say my name.”

“It’s K-money. Understood? Came alone, prepared to leave without words to others, but he wants to see the Sun.” He jerked his head in the direction of the house, and we began walking toward it. “Yeah, we comin’.”

As soon as we hit the steps to the house, I unzipped my hoodie and stopped when we reached the door. It opened, Shawn and I stepped in, and as soon as the door shut behind us, I raised my hands in the air and instantly had three of Sunny’s men around me.

“All that’s on me is the duty weapon in the holster on my right hip.”

Taking my hoodie off, lifting my shirt, patting me down, and disarming me. All were routine when coming onto their territory the way I was, and all were what I’d been prepared for. I waited quietly as they went through all their necessary steps of making sure I wasn’t wearing a wire, before they reluctantly handed my gun back to me and stepped away.

After I’d reholstered, I kept my hoodie off, partly because it was hot as shit outside and in the house, and also because I knew it would help keep Sunny’s boys calm if they could see my weapon.

“Shawn said no stars?” one of Sunny’s boys, RJ, asked.

“No stars.”