Page 2 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

A junkie.

A cold, calculating, manipulative cunt.

That’s what Wynter Snow Shaw is.

Getting too close is like evoking a mirage. The bullshit melts away, and I start to see the girl who used to make playlists of songs I’d never heard of because she acted like she was too scared to talk about her feelings out loud.

“Turn off the shower.”

Haze reaches in and the water stops. Snow is shivering in my arms, but she’s alert enough to hug herself.

I set her next to me on the tiles before I stand and meet Haze by the sink.

Her eyes are glued to her sister as she rings her hands together. A nervous tick she picked up after she was kidnapped.

I curl my index finger under her chin and tilt her head, so that I have her attention.

“Wash her. Make sure she drinks some electrolytes and water, and then you gon’ give her this.” I take a syringe out of my pocket and hold it up.

Haze’s eyes stretch. “Why–”

“I’m always prepared, Haze. You know that. When I come back, we can go back to the city–”

“No.” Haze snatches the syringe from me, but shakes her head profusely. “She can’t go back there. Not like this… she needs help, Rico.”

“They have rehabs, Haze,” I say, though my mind isn’t even in the building anymore.

The Mathers family should have been taken care of. Depending on if my homie Asa is sleep, I can be there and back in an hour tops.

He owes me a favor anyway.

It’s the least I can do. If anyone is gonna kill Snow, it’ll be me, and I don’t take kindly to another muthafucka tryna take my things away from me.

“She did that already and it didn’t take! She needs something else. Something more drastic.”

Her voice shrinking prompts me to meet her gaze.

She’s unflinching, almost, but I see it. The question in her hazel eyes.

My body stiffens. Fighting itself.

Over a decade I’ve given Haze whatever she wants. No questions asked. She’s never asked for much, so it’s never a daunting task, but the fact remains. No doesn’t exist with her.

Until now.

I poise my mouth to say it. I have to. This is too much. Way too much.

And the fact she doesn’t know it, makes it all the more true.

“You’re going back to Belize, right?”

The no is on the tip of my tongue. It’s the only word I can conjure. So I just blink once, confirming my plans.

Ten minutes with that bitch nigga Pooh has me running scared out of the country. I have no problem admitting to myself that’s the case; the work I’ve done on myself this past year has me accepting all my flaws, and my weakness toward Pooh is one of my biggest.

“I know it’s a big ask–”

“It is,” I grind out. Without thinking, I glance over my shoulder. Snow is curled up in a ball in her shower. The drenched jacket she has on is probably the only thing grounding her with us.