I stayed away from the warehouse. This time around, I skipped it.
Figured that out years back why mess up your own hands if someone else can handle the job better? This is what sets a leader apart from a follower. Followers take action. Leaders keep things moving.
Bishop was in charge. He brought Kira, Malik alongside three more folks I never bothered asking about, since ignorance can keep you safer. His orders were clear: enter fast, grab what's needed, leave quick. Ideally, nobody gets hurt. Yet anyone choosing to act brave? Deal with them.
I hung out at the salon, keeping an eye on the security footage through my laptop. There were six camera views Bishop's setup covering the place from every side. The gear looked high end, maybe old military stock. He never told me where it came from, and I didn't press him.
The Scorpions' hideout seemed calm at first glance. A two level brick building, iron grilles on the panes, a lone figure puffing a cigarette near the entrance. But beneath the surface? That's where they stashed what counted.
My phone rang. Maya.
"Hey boo, Jordan's asking for you again. He's getting anxious and the nurses are..."
"Tell him I'm handling business. I'll be there in a few hours."
"Lina, he's scared. He needs his sister right now, not his boss."
That one struck harder. It left a ache right in my ribs.
"I know. I know he does. But if I don't handle this now, we're both gonna be a lot more than scared. You understand?"
Quiet at first. After a pause: "Right. Got it."
She put down the phone. Might be angry with me. Toss that onto the pile.
Over by the laptop, Bishop's crew got ready. One after another, three hit the watchpoints quick moves, quiet, nothing loud. Meanwhile, the dude lighting up on the stairs dropped cold from a shock stick. Right then, Kira yanked him off into the green stuff.
My phone vibrated. A message popped up no sender name: Get over there. When things kick off, real leaders step up first.
Looked right at it. Maybe that person again the one called "Friend." Could've been anyone.
Looked away. Kept eyes on the display instead.
Bishop burst through the front door using a heavy ram Malik right behind him. Loud? Sure. But it worked just fine. Wood cracked as the door slammed open against the wall. Inside, they slid forward fast, guns ready, like their bodies knew the steps by heart.
Because they had.
The feed changed to inside shots blurry black and white clips. Shapes shifted through shadows on screen. Glints cut the darkness, maybe gunfire, maybe beams from a torch, tough to know. A person shouted. No sound came through, yet their lips were flapping fast.
After that, silence fell.
My heart kept thumping. I couldn't stand this moment just waiting, clueless. Doing stuff out there felt better than being stuck here, staring.
They came across six guys in there - more than they'd thought. Things might go south fast.
Whoa how'd they figure that out so fast? Seriously, what gave it away?
I got to my feet. Then started walking around. Took a seat again. The room felt way too still. Only me, the soft drone of the computer, while cars passed by far off.
Out on display, my team hustled folks around. Hands tied tight with plastic cuffs, lined up along the wall. Over by a desk, Bishop sorted stacks bricks of bills, seemed way heavier than we'd guessed. A whole lot heavier.
Alright. Getting more value back from what you put in.
My phone started ringing. It was Bishop calling now.
"Talk to me," I answered.
"We got a problem."
My stomach dropped. "What kind of problem?"
"Found the Martinez brothers. All three of them. But there's someone else here. Someone who wasn't supposed to be."
"Who?"
"Detective. Undercover maybe? Or just dirty. He's got a badge and everything."
Man. Dang it. Crap. Ugh.
"Is it Stone?"
"Nah. Different guy. Older. Says his name is Miller. Says he's been working the Scorpions for months."
Agent Miller. That name rang a bell. Part of some federal crew DEA maybe, or FBI, something like that. Trouble. Big trouble.
"What's he doing?"
"Right now? Sitting on the floor with his hands tied like everyone else. Keeps saying we're making a huge mistake, that he's federal, that we're all going to prison."
I pressed my fingers to my forehead. I attempted to focus. Did he get a look at you?
"We got masks."
"Good. Keep them on. Take everything like we planned. Leave him there with the others. By the time he gets loose and calls for backup, we'll be ghosts."
"You sure? Might be cleaner to just…."
"No." Cut him off. "No bodies. Especially not a cop. That brings heat we can't handle."
"Alright. Your call."
He hung up.
I stared at the laptop screen my team stuffing duffel bags full of goods and money. They moved quick, no wasted motion. One after another, they wiped out everything the Scorpions had built.
That cop yeah, the fed. He'd seen plenty by now. Maybe not faces, sure but patterns. Moves. This? He'd get it ain't some fluke. Nah, he'd figure a pro did this. Someone who's got cash, knows what they're doing.
Then again... sure enough, he'd realize it had been me all along.
One more note from an unnamed source: you're letting people live careless, really.
I nearly flung my phone clear across the room.
Instead I texted back: Who the fuck is this?
A little later, three dots showed up. Right after that, they were gone. A moment passed there they were once more.
Fine someone actually hopes you win. Still, you keep slipping up. That cop? He'll spill the truth. The Martinez duo won't stay quiet either. Sooner or later, every last person opens up.
So what's your take on it?
Keep their tale from counting. Hand them a tougher problem to handle instead.
Like what?
The three dots bounced around for ages. After that: Look at the updates in roughly ten minutes.
What on earth was that supposed to mean?
Out on the laptop, Bishop's crew started vanishing climbing into cars. Fading through darkness. From beginning to end? Roughly fifteen minutes flat. Smooth work. No mess.
Other than the feds guy bound up down below.
I shut the laptop. Then snatched my keys. Had to head to the hospital. Check on Jordan. Just be his sister awhile, not his manager.
First off, I opened the news app on my phone. Just local channels. Still no updates. Hit refresh again and again.
At 4:47 AM, it showed up BREAKING NEWS: Big drug bust in Manhattan. Around that time, federal agents hit a spot believed to be a cartel hideout. They cuffed ten people during the operation. Drugs worth millions got taken, along with stacks of cash.
What?
Hit the article. Skimmed through quick. Place was Midtown nothing like our crew's usual area. Not even close to that job. Still, the timing….
The moment fit just right.
One of us must've snitched to the cops. Got them chasing something juicier. Just as we were going after the Scorpions. Pulling focus, pulling manpower, pulling every eye off the real deal.
My phone vibrated: No problem but I'm holding you to it.
Stared at the message. This "friend," no idea who had reach. Links. Influence. Could twist feds behind the scenes. Had eyes on me before I even moved.
That was terrifying.
Still… sort of stands out. Yet, weirdly cool.
Texted back: Who are you?
A person who spots talent. One who figures you're squandering it on minor scams and personal grudges instead of aiming higher. There's a bigger path out there, Selina way beyond this.
I don't want someone guiding me.
Everybody counts on a person now and then. Queens too. More so, queens.
Ignored it. Slipped the phone into my pocket, then walked away.
The ride to the hospital felt still. Roads were bare that late. Only me, my mind, yet heavy from what'd gone down in one day.
Got shot at. Then crashed. My brother's stuck in the hospital. Took what belonged to the ones who came after me. Put a bullet in one. Left a fed bound and helpless. Now it turns out someone's been working behind the scenes, setting things up without me catching on.
It hadn't hit Friday just then.
Pulled up at the hospital lot. Stayed put inside the vehicle awhile just sitting there, taking slow breaths. Figuring out how to split my queen self from my sister skin.
Finding it tougher to spot the difference.
My phone started ringing. This time it was Stone.
Course it was.
"Detective," I answered. "Little early for a social call."
"Where're you at?" His tone came out sharp like he couldn't wait.
"Hospital. With my brother. Where else would I be?"
"Don't bullshit me, Selina. I know what you did tonight."
My heart skipped. Tried to keep my voice casual. "I've been here all night. Ask the nurses. Ask security. I've got like six witnesses."
"Your crew hit the Scorpions' stash house. Took everything. Left Carlos Martinez with a bullet in his hand and a message about respecting queens."
The Scorpions? They'd spoken quick like that.
"Sounds like someone handled your problem for you," I said. "Should probably send them a fruit basket."
"This isn't a joke. You just declared war on a street gang with federal connections. You just assaulted a federal agent….."
"I didn't do anything. I've been at the hospital…"
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR ALIBI!" He was yelling now. Lost his cool. "You think you're smart? You think you're untouchable? You're not. You're reckless. And you're going to get people killed."
"People already tried to kill my brother, Detective. In case you forgot."
"And your response was to shoot someone? To rob them? To escalate a situation that was already…."
"My response," I cut him off, voice cold, "was to send a message. Don't touch what's mine. That's it. That's the whole message."
Nothing but quiet from the line. Then - deep breaths, slow and low.
"Selina." His voice was quieter now. Almost pleading. "I can't protect you if you keep doing this."
"I didn't ask for your protection."
"You're going to need it. Because Agent Miller the one your crew left tied up he's pissed. He's building a case. And when he comes for you, he won't be as nice as me."
"Then I guess I better be ready."
Hung up right after he started talking.
Sat in the garage, fingers trembling against the wheel. One thing Stone got straight everything's messier now. Works for the feds. Tied to the cartel. Some unknown backer calling the shots.
This situation spun sideways quick - yet no one reacted.
Still, what could I even do? Just stand there while they attacked then stay quiet? Watch them harm Jordan laughing and say zilch?
Nope. That's not me at all.
I was Selina Vega shadow ruler, no second guesses. Queens push forward instead of stepping away.
Even if it might not make sense most times.
Popped out of the ride. Made my way through the door. Now it's showtime playing sibling to Jordan.
The queen might hold on.
Yet when I stepped into the hospital, a chill stuck like I'd traded my soul for nothing. While crossing the threshold, unease clung close, whispering it was already too late. The moment my foot hit the lobby floor, doubt crept in, heavy and low. Though moving forward, something felt off like promises had been broken before they were made.
I had no clue what his name was.