Malik stayed pressed against the wall, his breathing steady, controlled.
Gun still in his hand.
Eyes moving.
Always moving.
Another shot rang out.
Closer this time.
Too close.
He shifted slightly, peeking just enough to catch movement.
Two of them on the left.
One repositioning near the back.
They weren't rushing him.
They were adjusting.
Watching.
Learning.
Malik exhaled slowly.
"They really studying me…"
He moved again—quick, low—cutting across the space before another shot could line up.
A bullet hit the wall right where he had been seconds ago.
"Yeah…" he muttered. "Y'all not sloppy."
He crouched behind a stack of broken crates, thinking fast.
This wasn't random shooting.
This was controlled.
Planned.
And that meant one thing—
They expected him to react a certain way.
"So don't give it to them."
Back on the block, the air had completely changed.
Nobody was relaxed anymore.
Nobody was talking loud.
Dre stood still for a second after what he said.
"…one of us might be part of it."
That sentence didn't leave the room.
It stayed.
Sat on everyone's shoulders.
"You saying one of us set him up?" one of the guys asked, his voice lower now.
Dre didn't answer directly.
"I'm saying somebody knew too much."
Silence again.
Another guy shook his head.
"Nah… nah, that don't make sense."
"Doesn't it?" Dre replied.
No one spoke after that.
Because deep down—
It did.
Dre looked around at all of them.
Faces he knew.
Faces he trusted.
Or thought he did.
Then he grabbed his keys again.
"I'm still going."
This time—
No one argued.
Back at the warehouse—
Malik shifted his grip on the gun.
His eyes locked on a shadow moving too fast.
He fired.
A shout followed.
"Got one," he said under his breath.
But that didn't slow the others.
If anything—
It made them sharper.
Another shot cracked.
Then another.
Malik ducked again, rolling to the side as bullets tore through the crate he had just been behind.
Wood splintered everywhere.
He landed hard, but didn't stay down.
"Too open…" he muttered.
He needed a better angle.
Not just cover—
Control.
His eyes flicked toward the warehouse door.
Still open.
Still dark inside.
"Inside or outside…" he whispered.
Outside—
He was exposed.
Inside—
He didn't know what was waiting.
A risk either way.
Then—
Footsteps.
Fast.
Coming from behind.
Malik turned sharply—
Gun raised—
But stopped.
Dre.
"You came," Malik said, surprised—but not relaxed.
Dre moved quickly into cover beside him.
"You really thought I wouldn't?"
Another round of shots forced them both lower.
"You walked into a setup," Dre said.
"I figured that out already," Malik replied.
Dre glanced around, reading the movement.
"They got numbers."
Malik nodded slightly.
"And patience."
That worried Dre more.
"They not trying to finish you fast," Dre said.
"Yeah," Malik replied. "They trying to see how I move."
Dre looked at him.
"That means they planning something bigger."
Malik didn't respond.
Because he already knew.
Another pause in the shooting.
Not silence—
But controlled space.
"They waiting again," Dre said.
Malik's eyes narrowed.
"Yeah… trying to make us move first."
Dre exhaled slowly.
Then looked at him.
"You trust me?"
Malik didn't answer immediately.
That question—
Right now—
At a time like this—
It wasn't simple.
Another shot hit near them.
Closer than before.
Malik finally spoke.
"I don't have a choice."
Dre nodded once.
"That's enough."
He pointed slightly toward the side of the warehouse.
"Back exit. If it's still open."
"And if it's not?" Malik asked.
Dre looked toward the shadows.
"Then we make one."
Malik almost smirked.
"Alright."
They both shifted slightly, preparing.
Timing it.
Watching the pattern.
Three shots.
Pause.
Two shots.
Pause.
Malik counted under his breath.
Then—
"Now."
They moved.
Fast.
Low.
Together.
Bullets followed immediately.
They had been waiting.
But this time—
Malik and Dre weren't reacting.
They were moving with a plan.
Toward the warehouse.
Toward the unknown.
And behind them—
Whoever set this up…
Was still watching.