No More Hiding

Dre didn't hesitate this time. No more pauses. No more waiting in shadows, thinking about the past or ghosts that no longer mattered. Elric had made it clear where he stood, and Dre knew exactly what had to be done. There was no street code left. Only vengeance, precision, and justice served cold, loud, and permanent.

He stepped out of the abandoned supermarket tunnel, back into the chaos of night. His jacket was torn at the sleeve, a rip from a broken glass edge, but he didn't care. Every heartbeat felt like a countdown. The city wasn't sleeping; it was holding its breath.

Emmanuel and Okiki were already waiting by the alley, their faces lit up by the blue flame of a burner phone screen. "You ready?" Okiki asked, voice sharp.

"Born ready," Dre replied. His voice didn't shake. Not anymore.

They moved like smoke between streets. The target was clear: Elric's private stash house, deep in Razor Block. Word was Elric kept records, cash, phones, everything he never wanted traced. And Dre was done letting things slide.

The three didn't need to talk much. They'd been boys since pain had first written their names into the concrete. They reached the stash house just before midnight. Dre crouched near the wall, eyes scanning the shadows.

Two armed guards. One on a bench, scrolling his phone. The other pacing.

Dre didn't wait for a green light.

He dashed forward, fast as a flash, slid behind the bench, and yanked the guard down with a chokehold that ended in silence. Okiki followed suit, tackling the pacing one and disarming him before he could shout. Emmanuel grabbed the phones and threw them into the drain. No distractions.

Inside the stash house, it smelled of sweat and gun oil. Crates lined the walls, but Dre wasn't here for weapons. He kicked open a locked door and found it: a low metal safe, blinking red. Okiki reached into his jacket, pulled out a mini thermal cutter, and began slicing.

Emmanuel posted at the door, gun ready.

"You sure this will work?" he asked without turning.

"It has to," Dre said. His eyes never left the safe. This was the heart of the empire. Take this out, and Elric bleeds real blood. Not street threats. Not rumors. Real losses.

The cutter clicked and the safe hissed open. Inside: ledgers, a thumb drive, stacks of coded lists. Names. Accounts. Videos.

"He recorded everything," Dre muttered.

"Blackmail material," Okiki added. "This could burn half the city."

"We'll start the fire," Dre said. "Copy everything. Then torch it."

They moved fast. Emmanuel found a jug of oil and began dousing the crates. Okiki backed up the files onto Dre's burner. The flames were already licking the walls as they escaped out the back, masks on.

From the rooftop across the alley, Dre looked back one last time. The stash house erupted, flames punching the sky. Sirens hadn't even started wailing yet. But Elric would hear the message.

The city had changed. And this time, Dre was leading the charge.

Three hours later, they met in a warehouse Dre had secured. An old boxing gym from his uncle's time. Rusty but private.

Dre connected the drive to a laptop. Faces popped up. Police. Politicians. Rival gang leaders. Even some he thought were ghosts. Elric had played everyone.

"You think we can survive this war?" Emmanuel asked quietly.

"We don't survive," Dre said. "We win."

The files would drop tomorrow. Dre would leak them to anonymous channels. Let the city burn with the truth. Let Elric run out of hiding places.

But it wasn't over yet.

Dre closed the laptop. He looked at his boys. No words needed. The next move would be blood.

Elric's inner circle would retaliate. But they wouldn't expect Dre to come for the heart next: Elric's most protected safe house, the one nobody dared whisper about. The one hidden inside a luxury high-rise, guarded by suits and silence.

Dre had the blueprints.

Tomorrow, they would break a system. Not for revenge anymore. But to end a legacy built on betrayal.

And Dre would finish what the streets had started.