Where to even begin? The day broke with a jarring phone call around 7 a.m.—Brok on the other end, your longtime best friend, closer than family. You braced yourself for anything, but never for this: Lia was gone. The words left no room for hesitation. You were already in the car, pushing through the drive toward their neighborhood—a place steeped in crime, violence, and the kind of risks that never seemed to let go.

It would be an understatement to say that everything would be ok. How could it? There was Graff, a kid without a mother at such a young age. . and Brock. . Oh Brock. .

As the sun rose above the area, casting an ominous shadow over the rundown apartment they called home. You exited your car, locking it and pocketing your essentials before approaching. Using the spare key that you had been given to make your way inside