I called Marco and let him know the plans now. He was directly behind me, and I had sent him the pin before we left the warehouse.
“We gone pull over and foot the rest,” I said as he picked up.
“We still got like half a mile—”
“I said pull over right here,” I repeated, my voice leaving no room for discussion.
He pulled to the side of the nearly dark road and put it in park. And I did too. I could see the warehouse in the distance, barelylit up by a few dim lights around the perimeter. The other two trucks pulled up behind us.
I spoke to one of my men, who I was now making the designated driver instead of sending him in with us. This nigga was known for speed racing, I wanted him to put those skills to work. “Listen to me carefully. I need you out here more than I do in there tonight. I’m trusting you with all of our lives. After fifteen minutes—and I mean exactly fifteen minutes—you and the other drivers pull up to that warehouse full speed. We gonna need a quick exit.”
“Fifteen minutes. Got it.”
“And tell the other drivers the same shit. Y’all stay ready, engines running, doors open. Soon as you see us coming out, be ready to move.”
“Understood.” He nodded and started making moves to alert the other drivers.
I grabbed my piece from my waistband, checked the clip, chambered a round. The sound of it echoed in the quiet truck. I stepped out the truck and was met by Marco. The nigga had made it to my truck fast as hell.
“You ready?”
“Been ready,” he said, his face stone cold.
I pushed open the door and stepped out into the night air. It was getting cold as fuck, but I barely felt it. The adrenaline was already pumping through my veins. My soldiers piled out of the other trucks, all of them strapped, all of them silent. We moved like shadows, communicating with hand signals and head nods.
I gathered them close, keeping my voice low. “Aight listen. We going in quiet until we can’t be quiet no more. Kill everythingbreathing that ain’t Griz. I don’t give a fuck who they is or what they saying. You see movement, you drop it. No questions. No hesitation. We clear?”
“Clear,” they all said in unison, voices barely above a whisper.
“And another thing—watch each other’s backs. We came here together, we leaving together. That’s on everything. It ain’t no every man for himself around this bitch. Be yo brother keeper, if you yourself wanna keep breathing.”
Heads nodded all around me.
“Let’s move.”
We crept toward the warehouse, weapons drawn, eyes scanning everything. The place looked abandoned from the outside, but I knew better. Somebody was definitely inside. The question was how many and how ready they were for us.
We spread out, moving along the sides of the building, staying low and in the shadows. I signaled for half my niggas to circle around back while me, Marco, and three others approached from the front.
My heart was still pounding, but my hands were steady now. This was what I was trained for. This was what I knew.
As we got closer, I spotted movement—a guard walking the perimeter, doing a check. He had his gun on his hip but wasn’t paying attention, probably bored out his mind thinking nobody would be stupid enough to run up on this spot.
He was wrong.
I raised my fist, signaling everyone to stop and get down. We crouched behind some old equipment and storage containers, watching him. He was walking right toward us, still oblivious. Fifty feet away. Forty. Thirty.
When he got about twenty feet out, he must’ve caught something in his peripheral because his head snapped in our direction. His eyes went wide when he saw us, and his hand immediately went for his gun.
I stood up slowly, my pistol already aimed at his head. I brought my other hand to my lips, putting one finger up. “Shhhhh.”
His hand froze on his weapon, eyes locked on mine. For a split second, I saw the fear register on his face. He knew what was about to happen.
I squeezed the trigger.
Pop.
The suppressor did its job, muffling the sound to barely more than a loud cough. His head snapped back and he dropped like a bag of rocks, dead before he hit the ground.
