Page 5 of You Deserve Good Things

That was when Scarface, looked at me—up and down, bold as hell.

“Damn,” he said, smirking. “You fine as fuck, lil’ mama. Silas, you always had good taste.”

Silas’s whole face changed.

His nostrils flared. His fists clenched. And his voice came out ice cold.

“Keem,thisis my baby sister. She is only sixteen, bruh. Watch your fuckin’ mouth and show some damn respect.”

Keem blinked then laughed like it ain’t even matter. “Relax, man. Just sayin’.”

“You sayin’ too much,” Silas snapped, shifting his body so he was fully between me and them.

Keem raised his hands, still grinning. “Aight, aight. Damn. Sensitive.”

But before anyone else could speak, another car pulled up.

This one was slick, darker than the first, windows blacked out. It didn’t roll in slow—it crept. Silent. No headlights. Just gliding up like death itself.

Keem’s smile dropped.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Them niggas found me.”

He backed up quick, lookin’ over his shoulder. “Y’all need to get the fuck outta here.Now.”

Silas turned toward the car, eyes locking in. “Shaniya, get down?—”

The window rolled down.

And that was it.

Pop. Pop. Pop-Pop-Pop.

The night exploded with gunfire. Muzzled flashes lit up the lot like a camera flash from hell.

I screamed, paralyzed for half a second—until Silas grabbed me and tackled me to the pavement. His body wrapped around mine like a shield, arms covering my head, chest pressed tight against my back.

I felt him jerk.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Too many.

“Silas!” I screamed, clawing out from under him once the shots stopped.

He was heavy. His breath was ragged—then gone. Blood was everywhere. My hands were slippery with it as I grabbed his hoodie, screaming his name like it would make his heart beat again.

“Silas? Silas—no! Don’t do this, please—don’t do this to me!”

His eyes fluttered open just barely. He looked at me, his lips parting.

“I love you, Yaya,” he whispered.

And then . . . nothing.

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