𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥𝘴 - 𝙈𝙖𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙈𝘾

Veintisiete/Twenty Seven

How she got the truck to the hospital was a blur, how she helped a bleeding EZ inside was a blur, and her panicked, ten second conversation with Angel was all a blur. Izzy's nerves were a mess, she continued to shake, pacing back and forth in the halls closest to the room where they took EZ and occasionally asked the nurses at reception for updates. They had none for her. When a gunshot was involved, the police were called. She spent a few minutes feigning ignorance and dodging their questions with ease. When a group of mayans showed up, asking questions, Angel stormed through the doors, ticked off, angry, looking for the man who dare attempt to kill his little brother.

"Go home, Angel."

"Get your fucking hands off me, man! Hey, get the fuck off me! Hey. Fuck you motherfuckers, man! Hey! My brother's always had your back!"

"Go home, Angel!"

"And now you're gonna protect the motherfuckers who shot him?"

"Look, I am doing my job."

"Fuck you, you fucking pig!"

"Hey!"

"Get the fuck off me! Hey, fuck these motherfuckers! Ain't no way both these fools come out alive, bitch."

"Angel, shut the fuck up."

Angel's voice exploded down the hall as his brothers tried to cool him off and get him outside. As Bishop spoke with the officer guarding the suspects door, Izzy heard part of their conversation, "He's lost a gallon of blood. Bullet went straight through. No organs. What do you know about it?"

Izzy walked through the group of mayans, approaching Angel (who was still shouting) outside. He lit a stress cigarette and itched to unload his gun. Gilberto and Hank stepped to the side wondering where Coco was.

"Angel," Izzy approached, "He-he was bleeding and I-I pressed my jacket against him and drove here as fast as I could. He, uh, he drove us to an alley first. He... he thought the bullet that went through the windshield hit me. He's going to be okay. He's gotta be okay."

Surprisingly, Angel wrapped his arms around her. She could feel him shaking with anger as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, mumbling the only word of gratitude he could muster at the moment, "Thanks."

"I remember when Alvarez was President of the Oakland charter," She told him, word vomit at this point, "And even way back then, when the sons were good with the mayans, the Stockton charter... they... I would've never seen this coming, y'know? They just seemed even more loyal than the sons, most days."

"I'm gonna kill that motherfucker, Izzy. I promise you that."

She pulled away from him and squeezed his arm, her voice low, "I know you will. Be careful, yeah?" He nodded.

Izzy turned to go back inside and take a seat in the waiting room when Creeper jogged up to her side, "Mind if I join you? Cold out here."

"Not my hospital."

The two of them sat for hours, watching the mayans pace back and forth through the halls, filter in and out of the waiting room, and the Santo Padre president stress over the whole incident. Night quickly turned into day.

~ MAYANS ~ ~ MAYANS ~

"Hey. Hey, be careful." / "I'm fine, Angel."

"Fuck you, you're fine. You got shot." / "Where's Pop?"

"Well, he came by, but I sent him home." / "Is he pissed about his truck?"