Page 1 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

Part Two

Belize

(End of By Your Side)

Rico

Age 30

Haze is spiraling.

Only Wynter Shaw gets kidnapped, taken to a city eight hours away, and hit with a hot shot.

We all rode out for her, with Haze, Shad, Brina’s cousin YC and I finding her. Haze and I split off with Snow–Haze’s idea, because I don’t know what to do or where to go with a bitch overdosing in the back seat.

Haze isn’t crying, but her hands are shaking as she types in an address into her phone.

“She’s not going to make it,” she mumbles as she leans onto the middle console. “Go to this address.”

I take the phone and follow the directions to a highrise in downtown Northupton.

There’s no music on. Just Snow in the backseat, in Haze’s arms, whimpering.

How the fuck did I get here?

But I shut my brain off before I can get far. I can muse about this shit later.

Now… now I need to make sure Haze never feels the pain of living without her twin.

I find a park down an alley and hop out fast, pulling Snow gingerly out of the back and holding her close. Haze finds the back entrance, and knows the code to get in.

There’s no one in the elevator as we climb to the eleventh floor.

She also knows the code to the last apartment, so I’m guessing this is Snow’s place.

My guess is right when we file in and I see the mural of female rappers taking up the entire living room wall.

“There has to be some narcan in this bathroom.” Haze is becoming more frazzled by the second. Snow’s breathing is ragged, and she’s limp in my arms.

I follow her into the ensuite bathroom, walking straight into the shower. I turn it on and step under the dual showerheads.

The water is ice cold, slicing my skin and shirt. Snow jolts in my arms, but I hold her steady to me as I ease onto the floor tiles.

“Where the fuck is it?!” Autumn cries, throwing shit out from under Snow’s sink.

“She don’t need it, Haze,” I say, my gaze locked on the infuriating woman in my arms.

Eleven years. Eleven years since I’ve been this close to her. And even that time was a fever dream, a stolen moment before I signed my life away.

Dirt and dried blood rinse away down the drain. Drops of water gather on her lashes. I feel rather than see the shallow breaths she’s taking.

How much shit has she shot up her veins to not be dead right now?

And why does it matter to me?

This is why I keep my distance. Snow doesn’t deserve my attention. Fasho doesn’t deserve me caring about the shit she does.

A whore.