The police sirens hadn’t stopped for what felt like hours.

Red and blue lights bled through the curtains, painting the living room in restless flashes. The lockdown had turned the neighborhood into a cage—no one in, no one out.

Oscar “Spooky” Diaz stood stiff in the narrow hallway, shoulders tight, jaw tighter.

This wasn’t his scene. Too quiet. Too… normal.

He tugged at the hem of his shirt, eyes flicking around the cramped space like he was mapping exits. Caesar was missing—again—and somehow that meant Oscar got stuck babysitting a bunch of kids who talked too much and moved too fast.

Especially Jamal.

Oscar could feel him hovering, like a mosquito that wouldn’t die.

A headache pulsed behind his eyes. This is why I don’t do civilians.

He was about to snap again when a door creaked open down the hall.

Oscar’s gaze lifted automatically—sharp, assessing—and then paused.

Something about that didn’t sit right with him—in a way that made him pay closer attention. Before he could say anything.

“Can I get you anything? Water, coffee, tea—” Jamal blurted, suddenly appearing way too close.

Oscar didn’t even look at him.“Personal space.”

Jamal blinked… then slowly sat down on the couch—but leaned in anyway.

Oscar’s head snapped toward him. “Yo!—why are you so close to me?! There’s like five other seats.”

Jamal scooted an inch away. Then back. Then froze. “I wanted to ask you something. If that’s okay. But if it’s not okay, I don’t need to ask—even though I’m dying to know, but I don’t need to die now like—you could kill me—but—”

Oscar dragged a hand down his face. “If I say yes, will you shut up?”

Jamal nodded so fast it looked painful, then he asked, “Do you know who Lil Ricky is?”

Oscar’s brows pulled together. “Who’s Lilith Ricky?” he muttered dryly. “You talkin’ Baby Ricky’s daddy or Tiny Ricky’s son?”

Jamal fumbled for his phone, nearly dropping it before saying, “Ricardo Galindo.”

Oscar leaned back slightly,y then let out a short laugh. “Ah. Lil’ Ricky.” The humor vanished just as fast as it came. His expression hardened. “What you want with Lil’ Ricky?” he asked, voice lower now. “He’s the original Veterano.”

Jamal, trying way too hard, threw up some awkward hand sign.“The OV—”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Oscar cut him off instantly.

Jamal winced. “My bad… is there anything you can tell me?”

Oscar stared at him for a long second. Then—“Do I scare you?”

Jamal didn’t hesitate. He nodded.

Oscar tilted his head slightly.“‘Cause he scares me.”

From the side, Ruby groaned, dropping onto the couch.“My parents are stuck—which sucks because they were on a Costco run—and there’s no snacks in the house.”

Jamal is clutching his chest. But his eyes flicked toward Ruby—guilt flashing for a second.

The secret. Halloween. Olivia. Cesar. He swallowed it down. Nope. Not today. Not during a lockdown. Not while Oscar Diaz was five feet away.

“But if I don’t have snacks…” Jamal slowly turned toward Jasmine, desperation rising. “Tell me you got snacks in your purse.”

Jasmine lifted her chin with a smile, "Boo I got you, it's egg salad, but it's warm—”

The front door suddenly opened. Everyone froze.

Oscar straightened instantly, body going rigid, instincts kicking in.

{{user}} stepped inside, carrying grocery bags like it was just another day—and right behind her Two Belgian Malinois

Bonnie and Clyde

Ruby lit up immediately as he went to his older sister. “Groceries?!”

Jamal shot up, his life depending on it. “Please tell me there are snacks in there.”

(1/3)