9.

The streets of Baltimore seemed emptier than usual as Zee made her way toward Liberty Heights, the cold pressing in on her from all sides. She kept her hood pulled low, her steps quick and silent, her mind running over every possible outcome of what she was about to do. The Glock was tucked into her waistband, the weight of it a constant reminder of the decision she'd made. There was no going back now.

The rival crew's stash house was in a part of town she usually avoided. Liberty Heights wasn't K-Boss's turf, but it was a place where ambition ran high and respect ran low. Rico's crew wasn't big—not yet, anyway—but they were making waves. Too many, apparently, if K-Boss was already feeling threatened. And now Zee had been sent to snuff them out before they became a bigger problem.

As she neared the address Breezy had given her, Zee scanned the street, taking in every detail. The block was dark, most of the streetlights broken or flickering, casting long shadows over the cracked pavement. A row of abandoned buildings loomed across from the stash house, their windows boarded up and covered in graffiti. It was the perfect spot for an ambush—if they knew she was coming.

Zee slipped into the shadows, moving silently along the side of the building until she found an alley that led to the back entrance. She could hear muffled voices coming from inside, the low thrum of music vibrating through the walls. She paused, her heart pounding as she pressed her ear to the door, listening.

There were at least three voices, maybe four. She recognized one of them from Breezy's description—Jace, Rico's right-hand man. The others were unfamiliar, but that didn't matter. If they were inside, they were part of the problem.

Zee took a deep breath, steadying herself. She knew what she had to do. She'd done it a hundred times before, but this felt different. This wasn't about making money, or even about survival. This was about loyalty. About proving herself to K-Boss, showing him that she was still his, still willing to do whatever it took to stay in the game.

Her fingers tightened around the Glock as she pushed the door open, slipping inside without a sound. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of cheap liquor and stale smoke. She could see the men sitting around a table in the center of the room, counting money, laughing, completely unaware of her presence.

She took a step forward, the floor creaking under her weight, and one of the men looked up, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of her.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his hand moving to his waistband.

Zee didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, she raised the Glock and fired, the sound echoing through the small room like a bomb. The man went down, his body crumpling to the floor as the others scrambled to grab their own weapons.

Chaos erupted around her, but Zee stayed calm, her movements precise and calculated. She took out the next man with two quick shots, her aim deadly, her hands steady. She didn't have time to think, didn't have time to question. This was survival. This was the game.

Jace was the last one standing, his face twisted with rage as he leveled his gun at her. "You got a lot of nerve coming here," he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "You think you can just walk in here and take us out?"

Zee kept her Glock trained on him, her expression cold. "You stepped on the wrong turf," she said, her voice steady. "K-Boss don't like competition."

Jace's eyes narrowed, a flicker of fear crossing his face. "K-Boss sent you?"

Zee didn't answer. She didn't need to. The look on her face said it all.

"Wait," Jace stammered, his voice shaking now. "We didn't mean no disrespect. We was just trying to make a name for ourselves. We ain't looking for no war."

Zee felt a pang of something—maybe regret, maybe pity—but she pushed it down. This wasn't about them. It was about her. Her loyalty. Her survival.

"It's too late for that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

And then, before he could say another word, she pulled the trigger.

The room fell silent, the echo of the gunshot hanging in the air like a ghost. Zee stood there for a moment, her heart pounding, the adrenaline surging through her veins. She'd done what K-Boss asked. No loose ends. No mercy.

But as she looked down at the bodies on the floor, a heavy feeling settled over her, sinking deep into her bones. She'd crossed a line tonight, a line she wasn't sure she could come back from. The weed game, the switches—that was one thing. But this? This was different. This was blood.

She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to stay calm. She couldn't think about it now. She'd done what she had to do. There was no room for doubt, no space for regret. Not if she wanted to survive.

She moved quickly, wiping her prints from the Glock and slipping it back into her waistband. She couldn't leave any evidence, couldn't give anyone a reason to suspect her. She was a ghost, a shadow. Just another player in the game.

As she slipped out of the building and into the night, the weight of what she'd done settled over her like a shroud. She'd sent a message tonight, loud and clear. But in doing so, she'd become something else. Something darker. Something she wasn't sure she could control.

The streets were empty as she made her way back to her cousin's garage, the silence pressing in on her like a judgment. She'd proven herself to K-Boss, proven her loyalty, but at what cost? She was deeper now, deeper than she'd ever been, and there was no way out.

When she reached the garage, she let herself in, locking the door behind her. The familiar hum of the 3D printer greeted her, but tonight, it felt hollow, meaningless. She sank into a chair, her hands trembling as she stared at the machine, her mind racing.

She'd survived. She'd done what she had to do. But the cost was heavy, and she wasn't sure she could carry it much longer.

As the night stretched on around her, Zee felt the weight of her choices pressing down on her, suffocating her, pulling her deeper into a world she wasn't sure she wanted to be a part of anymore.

But it was too late. She was in now. All the way.

And there was no going back.