A FEW WEEKS after his meeting with Xanbar, Hood was moving through the darkness of a tiny project apartment in Ocean Hill, gat in hand. Ignoring the old lady crying on the floor, he stormed into the kitchen and swung his pistol, busting the lip of one of the three crack dealers they’d just tied up and robbed. Blood splattered. Dude screamed. A click sounded behind him and Hood whirled around. “Yeah, muhfucka,” Dreko said gleefully. His eyes were cold and dark. He held his Sig out away from his body and a sickening grin spread across his handsome face. “I got one in the head now, nigga,” he shouted to Hood. “Which one of these pussies you think I should blast first?” Hood held his hand up, checking his boy. These niggas ain’t mean shit to him. Xanbar had sent them out on a mission to hit Chaos’s spot, and the only reason he was out here ganking the joint at all was to pay off Fat Daddy’s debt. Hood kept searching, looking for the package that would save Fat Daddy’s life, and probably Egypt’s too.
