Page 145 of Vega

I’m good.

Don’t open the door for anyone until I get there.

I’ll explain when I get there.

Every text made my nerves worse because Vega didn’t text that way. He wasn’t that short with his words, and he didn’t leave me guessing unless something was wrong.

Something was wrong. I knew it in my bones. I had mopped the kitchen twice. I had folded a blanket that I didn’t need to. I had stood by the window until my legs went numb.

Suddenly, the front door finally opened, and my whole body jerked toward the sound.

Vega stepped inside with blood covering him. It was on his shirt, his hands, his arms, and smeared along the side of his neck. Dark spots marked his jeans. His face looked empty in a way I had never seen before.

For one second, my mind refused to work.

Then I ran towards him, screaming in fear. “Vega!”

I was on him before the door even closed all the way. I lifted the bottom of his shirt and searched his stomach, ribs, sides, and anywhere they could reach.

“Where are you shot?” I panicked, feeling my voice breaking apart.

His hands caught mine. “Baby.”

“No.” I pushed his shirt higher, searching for holes, wounds, anything.

“It’s not mine, baby.”

His voice didn’t sound relieved, so I froze.

My hands stayed pressed to him. “Whose is it?”

Vega’s jaw flexed, and his eyes moved past me toward the kitchen for half a second before coming back to mine. “Lowe’s.”

The floor started to sway underneath my feet.

“He’s fighting for his life. I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

My breath hitched. Vega walked past me and shut the front door. His face had no life in it.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Jamir was right. Roman was at the shop.” His voice sounded rough from shouting or pain.

My eyes widened with hope. “You got him?”

Vega ran a hand over his face. “He’s still alive.” Then he took in a long and slow deep breath. “Lowe got hit bad multiple times. They rushed him into surgery. Doctors said it’ll be hours. Roman is still alive, and he’s pissed right now. He knows we came for him. He knows we found one of his spots. He knows I’m not backing off. That means he’s looking for me, and he’s looking for you. So, I had to come get you.”

Vega moved to the couch and sat down. It looked like something inside him had finally reached the edge. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his eyes fixed on nothing. His shoulders rose hard with every breath. No tears fell. His expression didn’t contort. He didn’t yell. He didn’t break the way other people broke. He just sat there, staring ahead, breathing through grief that seemed too big for his body to hold.

I walked toward him slowly, dropped to my knees in front of him, and put my hands on his thighs.

His eyes lowered to mine, but it still didn’t look like he was in the room with me.

“He was right there,” he murmured roughly. “Roman was right there. I could see him. I could have ended all of this shit. Then Lowe got hit.” Vega stopped talking for a second and pressed his bloodied hands together. “I had to pull back. I had to choose.”

Tears burned my eyes. I didn’t know Lowe the way Vega knew him. I didn’t know their whole history or every memory tied to their brotherhood, but I had been around them enough to know what they were to each other.

And his family was fighting for his life because of me.