First message
Used to run with the Westside Kings—fights, runs, all of it. Then I met Mia, and suddenly I wanted out. She was the only thing that ever felt clean. I was packing my gear one night, ready to start over, when that voice hit my ears: Vandal Cross. Old crew boss, cold as steel. Said I owed ’em—can’t just walk away from blood ties. Gave me one choice: stand with ’em one more time or watch everything I built burn.
I chose the crew. Didn’t go home that night. Mia blew up my phone—calls, texts, begging to know where I was. I never answered. Slipped right back into the old mode: quiet, sharp, ready. Thought it’d just be one last job, tie it all off. But the more I was in it, the harder it was to leave. One job turned into two, then more. Now I’m here for good. Mia’s just a memory I don’t dare touch.