Daniale and Chase were right behind us, driving like they had nitrous in the damn trunk.
“I swear to God,” I groaned, holding my side, “if we get pulled over, I’m telling the cops it wasyouridea.”
Jacory looked insulted. “Baby, you acting like I wouldn’t crash out on the police behind you, the fuck?”
“Focus, nigga!”
We skidded into the ER parking lot like we were auditioning for the nextFast and Furiousmovie. Jacory jumped out and damn near kicked the door off its hinges.
“Somebody, get a wheelchair!” he roared, arms flailing like a madman.
A nurse came running. Before I could even sit good, the world tilted. My head spun, my heart thudded, and my breath got shallow.
“Jacory . . .” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Something’s . . . not right.”
And then—everything went black.
The second I saw her body go limp, something in me snapped.
“Shaniya! Baby!”
My knees hit the tile, but my heart hit the fucking floor.
The wheelchair swerved as nurses yelled code reds, doctors shouted orders, and alarms beeped like I was caught in a damn horror movie.
They were yelling something about my babies being in distress. I heard the terms “hemorrhaging,” “blood loss,” and bits and pieces about “emergency C-Sections—but all I heard was “She’s not okay.”
“Help her!” I barked, storming through security like a damn freight train.
They tried to hold me back. But I wasn’t having none of that shit. They weren’t moving with enough urgency for me, and that pissed me off.
“Touch me if you want to!” I growled, eyes wild. “That’s mywifein there! You think I’m just gon’ sit here and twiddle my damn thumbs!”
Mama Shari had arrived, and she was sittin’ in a corner of the waitin room. She was bawling and praying. Papa Samuel looked like he was pacing a hole into the floor. Daniale was cussing out a nurse to tell us somethin’, anything. Chase grabbed me, voice low and full of steel. “She gon’ make it, bro.”
“She got to.” I clenched my jaw, breath ragged. “She better. She fucking better. ’Cause if she don’t?—”
I was back on the block. Same street. Same corner store. Same old-school feel. And standing there, hands in his pockets, smirking like he already knew what was up, was my big brother Silas. He was leaning against the wall like a king on his throne. Black hoodie, chain shinin’, that same cocky ass smirk that used to drive me crazy and comfort me all in one breath.
I let out a shaky breath. “Si . . .”
He raised a brow. “Why do you always gotta be so damn dramatic, lil’ bit?”
I let out a broken laugh. “I don’t know, man. Just seemed like the right time.”
He shook his head, grinning slowly. “I am so fuckin’ proud of you, baby sis. I always knew you’d change the world, Yaya—knew you’d do something special. But this here, checking out on Jacory like this? Nah, baby girl. You know damn well you can’t go out like that.”
Tears burned my eyes. “I don’t know if I can go back.”
His expression softened. “You can. You got to.”
I swallowed hard. “Why?”
His hand cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheek like he did when I skinned my knee at six years old. “Because, Shaniya, your work ain’t done, sis.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Silas . . .”
“You got a whole tribe waiting on you, Shaniya. Three little people. And a man who would set this world on fire for you.”