I just needed to know that nigga hadn’t croaked yet. I wanted to have the honor of making that nigga take his last breath.
“Y’all have thirty minutes to be in and out. Laundry usually comes into the west bay, and it takes them that long to unload. That van is empty as fuck, so y’all need to pull off before people start questioning shit.”
In order to execute this shit right, we needed to be on point. We nodded at her before taking the top bag from the cart. Inside, she had concealed a few scrubs, janitorial jumpsuits, and badges she stole from the lost and found. Her paranoid ass couldn’t stand being out there with us a second longer, so she slipped back inside while we tossed on the scrubs before pulling the jumpsuits over them.
We pulled the van into the west bay just like Amoura instructed us to. There, the door was left propped open for us. It was a back way into the hospital with lower ceilings and was less maintained than the main halls. Cobwebs crowded the corners while doors that led to miscellaneous supply closets and storages lined the corridors. We blended in seamlessly, pushing cleaning carts as soon as we hit the main halls of the hospital with hospital grade KN95 masks covering the bottom halves of our faces.
Jersey kept close to me while Kross, Zeke, and Javi parted ways from us. The plan was for all of them to take different paths to the trauma unit Silas was on. They were gonna keep an eye out for anybody who posed a threat to what the fuck we had going.
Nurses and doctors bypassed us. Most of the time, their heads were down, buried into the multiple charts they were managing while heading to the next patient. We were hidden in plain sight, and nobody suspected a thing. We took the elevator that was going up with a few nurses. I let their conversation go through one ear and out the other. They were so consumed with their day to day that they didn’t even blink twice at me and Jersey.
They got off the elevator, and I made sure to hit the button to shut the door before anyone else could get on. “Make that shit quick,” Jersey rushed me as I ridded myself of the janitor jumpsuit, revealing the scrubs Amoura smuggled me. I stuffed the jumpsuit into the cleaning cart before passing it off to Jersey.
Once we got to the eighth floor, Jersey pushed the cart out first, scoping the hall before I stepped out. He swiped his stolen badge against the scanner, allowing us to enter the trauma unit. At the other end of the hall, Javi was mopping the already spotless floor, letting me know he had scoped the area before we arrived and made sure it was clear. Down the hall to my right, Zeke was spraying down the windows and wiping them with a microfiber towel. Once he peeped Jersey and me, he shot us a curt nod, indicating that he had that hall covered.
Lastly, to our left, Kross was restocking the hand-sanitizer dispensers. He motioned his head that all was clear on his end. I had a basic-ass wristwatch on that was serving as my holy grail to get in and fucking out. I had all of seventeen minutes to get this shit done now.
Staff continued to pass us up, and before we reached Silas’ room, I turned to Jersey. “You got an extra blanket I can give my patient?” I made small talk.
“Yeah, these are fresh too.” He pulled a folded blanket from the cart, and it weighed down my hands heavier than a normal blanket would. Downstairs, when we entered the west bay, I folded a .9mm Glock fitted with a suppressor right into the sheet. I tucked it underneath my arm before slipping into room 809.
The lights were dim in the room as the TV aired Animal Planet softly in the background. On it was a lion hunting its prey, kinda what I was doing as I stood over Silas’ bed while he rested peacefully.
He looked like shit, just how Kross described him. He had a bag latched to his stomach collecting all his feces—type of shit no man would want to live with. He was hooked up to a bunch of monitors that beeped and hummed in unison. Last we heard, he had another surgery. Turned out, a bullet shredded his intestines. The nigga was chopped and screwed on the inside. I knew he hated me before, but now that he was shitting in a bag because of me, I knew his hatred for me had intensified.
I unwrapped the gun from the blanket I had tucked underneath my arm, clutching it. He was sound asleep in his bed. I guess he was trying to sleep the humiliation away. I wiped off damn near his whole crew, took over his traps, and now I had him shitting in a bag, all of which could have been avoided if he just continued to do him while I did me.
I tapped the cold steel of my gun against his face. The patch work done on his face to cover up his burn scars was fucking horrible. I couldn’t stand looking at his ugly ass for more than I had to.
“This the funniest shit ever. I turned your hating ass into a port-a-potty,” I chuckled menacingly.
His eyes bucked wide, almost spilling out of his fucking head. “We finally face to face after all that ducking. You sent a nutty bitch and your peon-ass niggas at my wife, and you thought all I would give you was a shit bag for the rest of your life?” I gritted at him before grimacing at the colostomy bag.
He looked spooked, but the way his pride was set up, he quickly masked it by peering right into my eyes.
“You in a fucking hospital,” he reminded me through his labored breathing. ”This shit is sloppy… even for you.”
“Nah, kidnapping my wife was sloppy as fuck. I found her in less than 24 hours. Kicked down three of your traps and wiped them clean that same day. You ain’t been up since the day you had your weak-ass niggas hit my trap. You can’t fuck with me,and that’s why you been trying so hard to wipe me out, but I’m like the air: I’m fucking everywhere.”
“That bitch Jazzlyn… she was just fucking leverage.”
“Each and every motherfucka’ you ordered to lay hands on her was left rotting… you the last one standing. Mention her fucking name again, and I’ll put a hole through the normal side of your fucked-up-ass face, and Ms. Nancy won’t have the option of giving you an open casket.”
His jaws clenched. I was his worst fucking nightmare. He thought he could bitch me around ‘cause he had more years in the game than I did. There was no hoe in my blood, so I gave him a run for his fucking money. The run was over now, and I was gonna be the last motherfucka’ standing.
My time was ticking, and the more I stood face to face with the nigga, the more my blood began to fucking boil. He put my wife and son in danger, almost cost my wife her life in that reckless car crash… we lost our fucking baby behind this shit. This shit needed to end here.
“You will never be Priest,” he throated out as if that shit was supposed to strike a nerve within me.
I stood as my own man and wasn’t chasing an image that wasn’t mine. I cocked my gun back before pressing the suppresser to the dead center of his forehead.
“And pussy-ass nigga, you will never be me. You’ll never touch the money I have, make the connections I’ve made, or move the weight I move. You hate to admit it, but you look up to me. I’m the young nigga who always had you contemplating whether life was really worth it. I’m better than you, Silas. Come to terms with that shit on your way to hell.”
Before he could open his mouth to say another word, I pulled the trigger and the swift bullet cracked his skull, killing him instantly. His eyes remained open as blood pooled out of his head, staining the pillows behind him. The monitors flatlined,and before nurses and doctors came rushing into the room, I slipped out.
Jersey and I walked straight to the stairs as the voice on the intercom announced there was a code blue alert.
“Handled that shit?” he asked with a smirk.
