The six guys crowded around the dining table, the room buzzing with laughter and the rich smell of melted cheese. An open pizza box sat in the center, and they dug in eagerly, pulling slices apart and passing them around. Crumbs scattered across the table and floor as they ate like they hadn't had a proper meal in days.
Between bites, they talked.
They had just come back from a mission the day before, and now they were waiting—impatiently—for their pay. Diego had set up a meeting with them at noon, so for now, all they could do was kill time and eat.
The pizza was from a nearby spot, still warm and greasy.
Dave licked his fingers with a satisfied grin.
"Man… this tastes so damn good," he said.
"Right? My guy Tyler knows what he's doing," Peter replied, brushing crumbs off his shirt.
"…mouth with a napkin."
"I don't really know much about pizza," Tyler said with a shrug. "I just decided to try that spot after seeing it on an app a while back."
He smiled. "That place is actually my favorite now… and trust me, you gotta see the waitress."Peter added
Dave let out a laugh.
"Man, that girl is straight fire."Dave said
"Facts," Jasmine added, grinning. They bursted into laughter.
"Hey, chill," Dave
said, shaking his head. "She's mine already… don't even think about going near her."
Dave leaned back, smirking.
"Relax, man. She wouldn't go for someone like you anyway. She's into light-skinned guys… guys like me and Tyler"
Jasmine teased, nudging the moment further.
Dave's smile faded just a little. The mention of Tyler again—it was starting to get to him. Why did his name keep coming up in everything?
He quickly brushed the thought aside, forcing out a laugh to keep it cool.
Right then, Diego walked in.
The room went quiet.
The guys straightened up in their seats as Diego walked in. He gave a casual wave, signaling them to sit, then pulled out a chair and dropped into it like he owned the place. A bodyguard stepped in behind him, carrying a black briefcase.
The crew exchanged quick glances before settling back down.
Diego's eyes landed on Tyler, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Well, well… look at that," he said. "This is your cut from yesterday's job."
The bodyguard set the briefcase on the table and flipped it open.
Stacks of cash filled the case—thick bundles of dollar bills packed tight.
For a second, no one spoke.
Diego reached in, grabbed a handful, and started tossing money across the table.
"Go ahead," he said. "Split it."
The guys didn't hesitate. They jumped in, grabbing their shares, counting fast, the energy in the room shifting from tension to excitement.
Then Diego paused.
"Tyler," he said, his voice cutting through the noise. "Yours is three thousand dollars."
The movement slowed.
Dave frowned slightly, glancing up.
"And how much are the rest of us getting?" he asked.
With a straight face,boss replied " Two thousand dollars—maybe a little bonus once you move the rest of those wraps."
The guys erupted, cheering like they'd just hit the jackpot. It was the first time they'd ever seen that kind of money from their boss.
Malik grabbed a bottle of champagne from the rack and popped it, spraying it into the air. Laughter and noise filled the room.
But deep down, Dave felt off. Something didn't sit right.
He cast a cold, almost disgusted glance at Tyler. Diego noticed too, watching the crew celebrate like they'd just won the lottery—over something .
"Tyler, how'd you even get into the house that fast without anyone noticing?" Diego asked, narrowing his eyes.
Tyler just shrugged, unfazed.
"I just had to make a few moves. No traces left, boss. I swear."
"Tyler's sharp," Blake said with a grin.
"Yeah, real sharp," Peter added, playfully punching Tyler's arm.
Tyler smirked. "Get ready, man. You're coming with me to Amsterdam tomorrow. I've got a real deal lined up for you."
Diego leaned back, folding his arms. "He's too young for that kind of job, boss. I don't think he can handle that kind of pressure."
Dave scoffed immediately, shaking his head. "You're underestimating him."
Diego shot him a hard look. "This isn't his first run. He's either out there chasing deals or dodging cops. He can handle himself."
Diego added with finality.
Dave frowned, creasing his brow, but didn't argue further.
Around them, the celebration was still going strong—loud voices, laughter, bottles clinking. In the middle of it all, Tyler stood up, stretching like he owned the room.
But as he moved, he kept a careful eye on Diego, watching him quietly, a hint of confusion tightening his expression.
..................
Tyler rolled over to the other side of the bed, exhaling as he reached for his cellphone again—at least the tenth time. The call from his mom still lingered in his mind.
He just needed space.
Over and over, Tyrell had tried to convince him to come back home, but Tyler refused. He was drawn to the streets now—hooked on living the kind of life he never had growing up.
And the money? Ever since Diego took him in, it had been unreal.
He still sent some back home—he cared, at least a little—but Tyrell begging him to return felt pointless. That life was behind him.
With a tired sigh, Tyler finally put his phone on Do Not Disturb and tossed it aside. He dropped his head onto the pillow, exhaustion settling in as he tried to catch some sleep after everything that went down the night before.
Diego had pulled them into the online fraud game, and before Tyler even realized it, he was already deep in it.
Too deep.He had his eyes on Tyler from the start. They could tell he was different—sharp, quick to learn, and deadly with a computer. That combination made him valuable. Too valuable. So they worked him hard, pushing him through the night until dawn.
By the time it was around ten in the morning, Tyler finally tried to get some sleep. He had barely closed his eyes, drifting on the edge of unconsciousness, when a loud crash ripped through the mansion—from the boss's apartment.
Tyler's eyes snapped open.
Instinct kicked in. He grabbed a knife from beside the bed and moved quietly down the hallway, each step careful, controlled. When he reached the door, he paused, listening.
"That's the house I bled for!" Deshawn's voice roared. "I worked my ass off for it—don't you dare play with me!"
A scuffle broke out.
Through the noise, Tyler could make out Deshawn grabbing Diego, his grip tightening around his neck.
"Then prove it!" Diego barked. "Show me the documents!"
Diego struggled under his hold, his voice strained but defiant. "You're outta line… you can't be this greedy. You already got more houses than you can count." Deshawn said.
The tension in the room snapped tight—one wrong move, and it was all about to explode.
"And now you wanna take mine too?" Deshawn snarled, tightening his grip around Diego's throat. "What—if you die, you taking all that with you to the grave?"Deshawn added.
Diego's body started to go slack. He clawed at Deshawn's arm, gasping for air, eyes bulging as he fought to stay conscious.
Then the door burst open.
A figure stepped in—fast, steady.
Deshawn reacted on instinct, shoving Diego aside like dead weight and turning on Tyler. He grabbed him with ease, rage flashing in his eyes.
"Little boy," Deshawn spat, "I'll feed your body to the vultures."
He lunged, trying to pin Tyler down—but he left himself open.
That was all Tyler needed.
In one clean motion, Tyler swept Deshawn's legs out from under him. Deshawn crashed hard to the floor, stunned, his balance gone in an instant.
Before he could recover—
Tyler moved.
Quick. Precise.
The penknife flashed once across Deshawn's throat.
Silence.
Blood spread across the floor as Deshawn's body went still.
Tyler stepped back, calm, breathing steady. His eyes flicked from the lifeless body to Diego.
Diego stared at him, shaken, struggling to find his voice.
Tyler didn't wait. He dropped the knife and turned toward the door.
"Thanks…" Diego finally managed, his voice low but clear.
Tyler paused for half a second.
"Hope you're good," he said, without looking back.
Then he walked out.