The spot was a underground gambling den run by a rival crew leader named Silas. Silas was the one who had ordered the hit on K-Tone, thinking he could expand his territory without paying the blood tax. Marcus knew the layout of the place like the back of his hand. He parked his stolen car two blocks away and approached through the dark alleyways, moving like a phantom.
The room froze. For a split second, the only sound was the clicking of the poker chips on the felt table. Marcus raised his weapon, his voice steady and devoid of emotion. G-unit - Eye for an eye
The news had hit him like a physical blow an hour ago. K-Tone, his closest friend and the only person he trusted with his life, was gone. Ambushed in a setup that smelled of inside information. Marcus didn’t need to ask who was responsible. He knew the players on this chessboard, and he knew the rules they played by. In their world, there was no calling the police, no filing reports, and no waiting for a justice system that didn’t recognize their existence. There was only the law of the streets: an eye for an eye. The spot was a underground gambling den run