LUCIOUS & COOKIE: TUG OF WAR (REMASTERED)

WHO'S MORE POWERFUL NOW

3 Days Later

"FIND HIS ASS VERNON!" I whisper shouted, pacing along the private floor where my baby girl is currently being housed.

I know Anika's father was behind the fucking hit on me and my family; the true meaning behind his seemingly idle threat now front and center. How did his Lilly white ass even manage to pull off something like this, I'm still trying to decipher.

Regardless, that shady bastard is going to pay for this with his life. Vengeance is mine and I will have it in the form of Steve Calhoun's head in a bag, at all costs. Shit maybe even his wife's too.

"What do you mean there's no one at the house? They couldn't have just vanished, FIND THEM NOW!" I shouted before I could catch myself.

I'm so mad right now cause it's been three days, and my team hasn't been able to find so much as a bread crumb leading to Anika's parents.

My brain keeps replaying what happened. I know that I turned around fast enough to protect her, but somehow, she got hit anyway. The vivid images of the barrels of each gun flashing within my cerebral, the frozen glint in each shooter's eyes as the windows rolled down, seemingly focused dead on those of my own on repeat. 

As soon as I saw them, I knew it was a hit.

Wrapping up my call, I stroked my chin then peered over my shoulder upon my wife. She has been camped out beside Laylah's bed since they allowed us to see her following the surgery.

Gently running her fingers through our daughter's hair, I simply stared as she continued to sing La's favorite song, while wiping tears free from her face with the back of her hand. Laylah hasn't been awake yet, despite her vitals maintaining steady rhythms, she's under heavy sedation to allow her body time to heal.

Cooks is a mess, hasn't slept in nearly three days, nor has she eaten anything of substance. I had to force her ass to eat a pack of crackers just this morning, so she doesn't waste away, and even then, she only did it when I brought up the other two little ones, we have at home needing her as well.

Easing my hands into my pockets, my gaze shifted onto the bustling streets below. Rolling some tension free from my shoulders, my feet began to guide me down the hall because I desperately need to clear my head.

Tossing a quick peak back towards the two females that each separately carry one half of my heart, I resumed my journey. I can't go back into that room right now because in all honesty my brain isn't processing the sight of my baby girl's small fragile frame with all those damn wires coming out of her and that damn breathing tube down her throat, too well.

The guilt and shame weighing heavily within my soul, or whatever's left of it that is.  My primary job as a father is to protect my babies and three days ago, I miserably failed at the task, for the one that stares at me as if I can do no wrong in her eyes.

Most would say that this is my fault. I'm reaping what I have sowed sorta speak, but I'm doing my best to stay strong through this, although it's been nearly nine hours since that little twerp Dr. Benson came by to speak with us. 

Still, there's been no change in her condition since the surgery and I'm nearing my wits end.

This just isn't happening, I told myself, while continuing to trudge through the desolate hallways. I was sure that we were all going to be able to live peaceful, happy, drama free lives.... but of course, there always seems to be someone waiting in the shadows to throw a monkey wrench in my plans.

Seeing Cookie crying the way she's been these past few days is eating me alive. I've never seen her cry so much in my life and it's gut wrenching. She's the toughest woman I know, to see her broken down, barely able to even formulate a sentence is just more than I can deal with at the moment.