Yellow light spilled out in a weak, flickering glow.
Along with it—
The sharp, sour stink of cheap whiskey, stale cigarettes, and sweat.
Men who didn’t know fear.
I listened.
Four voices.
Too relaxed. Too careless.
I exhaled once.
Then kicked the door open.
The door slammed against the wall with a violent crack.
Inside—
Four men around a folding table.
Bottles scattered across its surface.
Cards half-spread.
Smoke curling lazily through the air.
They froze mid-laugh.
One had a cigarette hanging from his lips.
Another had his hand on a bottle.
All of them looked at me.
For a split second—
Confusion.
Then realization.
Then fear.
I didn’t give them time to react.
The four men fell under my shots.
Each bullet found its target before the first man could even form a word.
Silence crashed into the room.
I stepped inside.
Gun raised. Eyes sharp.
I moved past the bodies without hesitation, stepping over them as if they were nothing more than debris.
