I'm a king, but I played with the aces.

“Tray, what are you doing home?”


Trace glanced over at his sister, taking in the mussed braids and her pajama clad body. The fourteen year old had grown up fast, and it broke his heart. It also made him angry- not with little Xai. He could never be truly mad at his sister. No, he was pissed at the situation, at the streets, at everything that was pressuring the fourteen year old to think of herself as a woman. He was even more pissed at what a friend from the old ‘Hood had warned him about. Little Xai was attracting attention- one of the gangs wanted her. They wanted her to be one of their ‘ladies’. It was what they called the girls who put out for whomever in the gang they ended up under. Trace was going to be damned if his little sister got sucked into the streets. Not on his watch, not when he could stop it. But he hadn’t expected to encounter her when he’d snuck into the house to lift his Uncle’s piece.
“Xai, I just came to pick up something.”


“Liar.”


Trace blinked at the profanity, but also at the terror etched on his sister’s face. That was when he knew- she already belonged to them. They hadn’t marked her, she was still too young to be properly used as one of the ladies. The girls who would put out for the gang, lie for the gang, and ultimately die for them. No, she wasn’t being used, but she was being indoctrinated. And they both knew that she was helpless. It was the cycle of their culture, and even their mother would not intervene. Belonging to a crew guaranteed that someone would be around to watch Xai’s back constantly, that she would belong. Having a baby of the gang wasn’t shameful here. It shocked Trace how unaccustomed he’d become to his own culture. Xai was helpless, and they both knew it. Even worse, Trace realized, Xai knew full well why her brother had returned. He was leaving her just as helpless as the jerks that he was saving her from. Without a word, Trace walked over to her, wrapping one arm around his sister’s slim form and pressing a kiss to her forehead.


“What about Elliot? What about me, and mama? Tray, you ain’t gotta be no hero! You trippin’!”
“I can’t expect you to understand, but if I can’t take care of someone in my life, I can’t take care of anyone.”


She couldn’t argue with it, and she knew better than to try. Her brother tucked the piece into his jeans, kissed her cheek, and left the house. Xai couldn’t help him, but she’d take care of him when it was over. The girl raced to her room, yanked on the warmest clothing she had, and chased her brother down the streets, shadowing him as only a child of the streets could. He was a fool, and she watched him walk right into the club where the crew was waiting to chill, and began to yell. Xai couldn’t watch, and she covered her face with her hands. But she could still hear what was happening.


---------


“What the heck, man?” Trace held the gun steady, the barrel aimed right at the man who ran the crew. No one moved, no one breathed. Trace’s rep had never quite left the ‘Hood, and no one wanted to tangle over the man’s sister. But no one could just let him walk away with her, either. The first hit took him in the shoulder, and instinctively Trace pulled the trigger. He missed killing his target by a few inches, though the bullet caught the thug square in the chest. Trace’s own shoulder was bleeding, but as Aidan Hawthorne had taught, boxing was fifty percent mental. Trace pivoted, and a powerful blow knocked the other man back. They thought they were tough, and they might have been, but Trace was trained. He still knew that he stood no chance. He was too outnumbered.


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Xai wasn’t sure how long the beating and shooting lasted, but when there was silence, she peeked from behind her hands to see something be dragged out the back. Xai slipped through the front door, and around to the broken body of her brother. He was losing so much blood. There was a gunshot wound in his shoulder, and two in his chest. One more in his leg. His face was beyond recognition, and the rest of him was red, black, and blue.


“T-Tray?” She was clinging to his hand, staring at the torn knuckles. She could see his chest rise and fall, and fumbled for his phone. She hit the number one speed dial, and was surprised by the male voice that answered.


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“Hello?”
“H-Hi…..I-I don’t know you.”


There was a long pause at the other end, as Aidan Hawthorne tried to ascertain just who had called him. The number belonged to Trace….


“LeXaibriar?”
“Y-Yes….p-please come. It’s Trace they hurt him, and…and it’s all my fault.”


Aidan glanced at the blonde who was seated at the table across from him. Julie Beauchere, his close friend and co-coach, was already flipping her phone open, and began dialing as Aidan coaxed answers about location and her brother’s condition from Xai. As soon as the call was made, Julie and Aidan were in Julie’s car, heading for the girl.


----------------


The ambulance arrived before Trace’s teacher, and Xai refused to be parted from her brother. She clung to his hand, as his eyes flickered open to stare in her direction.


“Tray….why? Why did you have to do this?!”
“….love you.”


The little girl shook her head.
“Don’t start talkin’ goodbyes, Trace. You….you can’t.”
“Love you. Love Ellie…”


The paramedic swore and shoved Xai onto the bench, wrenching her hand from Trace’s.


Trace Cooper coded at 3:17 a.m. Six days after Christmas.


--------------


There were two adults waiting for Xai as she clambored out of the ambulance. It was the male who caught her easily as she stumbled out, and he held her gently. Like she remembered her father having done when she was very young.
“Mister Hawthorne?”


Those kind eyes watched her with so much mutual pain and compassion, that the teen lost it. Sobs ripped at her chest, and clung for dear life to the man who reminded her so much of what Trace would have been like all grown up. Aidan, for his part, held the girl tight, lifting her easily into his arms, and allowing her to weep onto his shoulder.


“Aidan, take her to your place. I’ll call her mother- the woman told me that Trace had this coming. We can’t send her back into the lion’s den tonight.”


“Why not with you?”


“You were closer to her brother. Besides, she might talk to you.”


Aidan nodded, stroking her hair slowly. Trace had been like a son to him; there was no reason he couldn’t treat the boy’s sister like a daughter. He’d tuck her into bed with Vivianna, and allow the sweet and soothing nature of a child to calm her. He could sit in the chair, and watch them sleep, and have his own private moment of intense grief.