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The Loved Ones

The sound of sirens in the distance never fazed them anymore. It was just another reminder of how far they’d come—how far they were from the world that didn’t understand them. And maybe that was why they had each other. They weren’t just a gang—they were a family.

There were eight of them. Each one broken in some way. And together, they were unstoppable.

Andrew was the leader. He was smart. He had to be. You don’t survive a family like his without learning how to manipulate situations, or how to outthink your enemies. His father had been a lawyer, sharp as a razor, but his mother was a drug addict who would disappear for days at a time. At twelve, Andrew learned to fend for himself. His intellect became his weapon—his ability to read people, to see patterns in chaos. When he was sixteen, he had already figured out how to work the system better than most adults, and that’s when he took charge. He kept his crew close and made sure no one got left behind.

Collin was the funny one. Always cracking jokes, always trying to make light of things, even when things were anything but. His home was loud. His mother screamed at him and his younger brother every night, drunk and frustrated at the world. His father was long gone, leaving nothing but shattered promises. Collin learned to laugh at the pain, because what else could he do? He used humor to mask the scars, the bruises, the unspoken rage that simmered beneath his skin. He was the one who kept the group grounded, always managing to make them forget their problems, if only for a few minutes. But behind his laughter, there was a sharp edge—an anger that sometimes slipped out when the jokes didn’t land.

Harris was the handsome one, the heartbreaker. But he’d never felt beautiful. Not with the way his father treated him like a disappointment, not when his mom, the one person who’d ever cared for him, had passed away in a car accident. Harris had never learned how to deal with his emotions, so he buried them beneath his charm and his looks. He was the one who made people fall in love with him, only to break their hearts without ever trying. It was easier to keep them at arm's length than to let them get close enough to see the damage. And he hated himself for it. But the gang didn’t judge him for his mistakes. They understood him. 

Carlos was the troublemaker. He was angry, always furious at the world, always looking for a fight. His father had been a deadbeat, and his mother had never been around, always in and out of hospitals from her own problems. Carlos had raised himself, and he didn’t trust anyone—not even the people in his own gang. He was the first to throw a punch, the first to make things go sideways, but he was also the first one to jump into action when things got real. And despite his wild side, despite the fact that he’d cause problems just to prove he could, Carlos had a heart. A messy, torn-up heart, but one that was still capable of feeling loyalty.

Morgan was the quiet one. He was the thinker, the strategist. The one who always kept an eye on everything, always one step ahead, watching, waiting. Morgan was an enigma, and no one ever really knew what was going on in his head. His father had been a preacher, demanding perfection, while his mother had been a ghost, always absent, always distant. Morgan had learned to blend into the background, to observe rather than participate, and to think his way out of every mess. He was the one who figured out the plans, who came up with the escape routes, and who held everything together when the rest of them were losing their heads. No one knew it, but Morgan cared about them all more than anyone could imagine. He just didn’t know how to show it.

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Dylan was the outsider. The kid who didn’t belong. He’d been a loner before he met the gang, dropped out of high school after his father had been arrested for embezzlement. His mother was a wreck, struggling with addiction and never having enough money to keep the lights on. Dylan had learned early that no one cared about him unless he had something to offer. He joined the gang out of necessity—because the streets had been his only real option. He wasn’t particularly tough or smart, but he was desperate, and he knew how to survive. The others saw something in him, though, and over time, they started to trust him. Dylan wasn’t just another kid looking for a way out. He was one of them.

Rhode was the protector. He didn’t say much, but when he did, people listened. His older brother had been killed in a drive-by shooting, and Rhode had never been the same. After his brother died, he’d made it his mission to protect the people who mattered to him, and the gang became his family. He didn’t speak about the pain that ate him up inside, but everyone could see it in the way he carried himself—quiet, determined, and ready to put himself on the line for anyone who needed him. Rhode wasn’t afraid of anything, not even death. He was a wall, and anyone who came at his friends would have to go through him first.

Cody was the wildcard. He was the youngest of them all, barely fourteen, but he was already dealing with things most adults couldn’t comprehend. His father had been an alcoholic, and his mother had abandoned him when he was a toddler. Cody had bounced between foster homes, each one worse than the last, until he finally found himself on the streets. He’d been toughened by the pain of it all, and by the time he found the gang, he’d already learned how to fight, how to survive, how to trust no one. He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, and though he was small, his ferocity made him a force to be reckoned with.

Together, they were a mess. A beautiful, dangerous mess.

Their world was one of drugs, violence, and street politics. They’d stolen, fought, and lied their way to the top of the food chain. But it wasn’t about money—it was about respect. It was about family. 

And it was about surviving.

The conflict within the group was inevitable. 

Carlos wanted more power, wanted to be in charge, and his temper was always simmering just beneath the surface. He challenged Andrew, often questioning his leadership, always looking for ways to undermine him. 

Harris, with his charm and his inability to stick around, kept pushing people away. He’d disappear for days, only to come back with a fresh set of problems. Rhode tried to be the peacemaker, but even he couldn’t stop the rifts from forming.

And then there was Morgan, whose plans never seemed to go quite right. He was the one who got them out of tight situations, but every now and then, he would go silent for too long, and the others would wonder if maybe he had another agenda. 

But despite their conflicts, despite their differences, they always came back to each other. Because, in the end, they were the only ones who truly understood what it was like to have nothing but each other.

It wasn’t a perfect family. It was a broken one. But it was their family.

And sometimes, the ones who are the most broken, are the loved ones who need each other the most.