CHAPTER EIGHTTreasure and Blessyn hopped inside of his Lambo, shutting the doors one after another.
“Ol’ punk ass nigga… I should have gave him the business,” Blessyn said to no one in particular, activating his stash box. When it opened, he took out his ratchet and chambered a round in its head. A knock at the passenger side window startled him, and he pointed his weapon at it. There, he found Pain hunched over in the tinted window, eyes focused on Treasure. He knew there was a gun on him, not because he could see it but because he could feel it. He didn’t care though. Nah, his lady held his undivided attention.
“Remember this…remember us.”
He sat the picture strip into the opening of the window. He then pressed his middle finger against the window’s glass. That ‘f**k you’ was for Bles
