Tyrell paced back and forth outside the gate, his patience wearing thin with every step. He kept knocking, harder this time, the sound echoing against the metal.
From inside, the security guard peeked through the tiny viewing slot, shooting Tyrell a look full of irritation and judgment.
"Open the damn gate!" Tyrell snapped, his voice sharp with anger.
The guard frowned. "My boss gave strict orders. I'm not allowed to let anyone in."
Tyrell clenched his jaw, frustration boiling over. "My brother's in there, and he hasn't come home in days. And you're standing here talking about your stupid boss?"
"Leave. Now," the guard said flatly.
Tyrell shook his head, taking a step closer to the gate. "I'm not going anywhere. Not until you open this gate. Not without my brother."
"Stop acting like he was kidnapped," the guard muttered.
Tyrell let out a bitter scoff. "Oh, really? Because that's exactly what it looks like. A helpless man, stuck in there like he doesn't have a choice."
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping but still laced with threat. "You're useless… and you're starting to piss me off."
The tension snapped.
"I'm gonna call the cops!" Tyrell threatened.
The security guard didn't flinch.Tyrell frowned, then slammed his fists harder against the gate, his patience completely gone.
"Call the cops?" The security guard shot back, a mocking laugh escaping his lips. "You really think you've got what it takes to call the cops on me? Over something like this? You can't threaten powerful men like Diego and expect to walk away clean. Now get the hell out before things get ugly."
The security guard didn't respond with words this time. Instead, he raised his handgun and pointed it straight at Tyrell.
Still, Tyrell didn't move. His eyes burned with anger as he stood there, almost daring the man to pull the trigger. It was as if he was ready to tear the gate down with his bare hands if it came to that.
Then suddenly—
The gate creaked open.
Tyler stepped out with his usual swagger, slipping his hands into his pockets like he didn't have a care in the world.
The moment Tyrell saw him, he froze.
There was something off.
Tyler had always had that distant, cold look sometimes—but today, it felt different. Wrong. The emptiness in his eyes hit harder than usual, and Tyrell couldn't shake the uneasy feeling crawling up his spine.
"You didn't have to come here causing trouble, bro," Tyler said calmly, his voice almost too steady.
"Really, bro? You're actually saying this?" Tyrell's voice cracked with disbelief.
Tyler didn't hesitate. "Tell Mom I love her… and Dad too. And you…" he paused briefly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, "even if you're a dick sometimes. But I can't come back."
"Jeez…" Tyrell muttered under his breath, wiping his face as if trying to shake off what he just heard. For a second, he wondered if this was some kind of sick joke.
But it wasn't.
His brother looked… different.
Not just a little off—completely changed.
Tyler stood there in his usual baggy clothes, but now his chest and arms were bare, covered in fresh tattoos that hadn't been there before. His dreads had grown longer, hanging loosely around his face. His once fresh lips looked dry, almost pale, and there was a rough edge to him that hadn't existed before.
It hit Tyrell hard.
Tyler wasn't the same person anymore.
He looked like someone who had crossed a line—and wasn't coming back.
Tyrell's eyes narrowed as he studied him, his chest tightening. This was the same brother their family had tried so hard to raise right… to discipline, to guide.
And now?
Now he looked like a stranger.Tyrell stood there, stunned, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Come on, bro… don't do this," he pleaded.
Tyler didn't answer. He just let out a quiet, almost careless laugh before turning his back and walking straight into the massive compound.
Tyrell watched him go, his chest tightening. That cold, detached look on Tyler's face lingered in his mind. It might've seemed calm on the surface, but underneath, it felt dangerous—rebellious, stubborn… like he was already too far gone.
..................
Customers moved in and out of the supermarket in a steady flow—some leaving with filled shopping bags, others pushing carts down the aisles.
Bright white lights reflected off the polished counters, while employees in uniform stayed busy, attending to customers, processing payments, and restocking shelves.
Behind the counter, the cashier—a middle-aged man—worked nonstop, his hands moving quickly as he counted cash and rang up purchases, the sound of bills snapping and coins clinking filling the air.
The cashier stacked bundles of cash on the counter, carefully balancing the day's earnings before closing up the shop. His movements were precise, but his eyes kept drifting—something felt off.
Then the door opened.
Three men walked in, moving with quiet confidence, handguns clutched
at their sides.
At first, no one reacted. It was just another normal evening—customers browsing, carts rolling, people finishing up their shopping around 8:00 p.m.
Then—
A loud click.
One of the men cocked his gun.
"Everybody freeze!" he barked. "Drop your damn phones on the floor—now!"
The entire store went still.
Fear spread instantly. Some customers tried to bolt for the exit, while others ducked behind shelves or crouched in corners, too terrified to move.
You could hear it—the sharp, uneven rhythm of panicked breathing filling the air.
"Don't make me repeat myself," Dave snapped, his voice colder now. "Or I'll blow your head off."
That did it.
Customers and workers alike slowly raised their hands, trembling as they dropped their phones to the ground.
The robbery had begun.One of the robbers, Malik moved through the crowd, collecting phones and stuffing them into a sack.
Behind the counter, the cashier's hands shook as he quickly gathered bundles of cash, trying to hide them in a concealed spot. His breathing grew uneven as he crouched lower, desperate to protect what he could.
Then—
A heavy blow slammed across his face.
He cried out, stumbling back.
"Bring the money, you idiot!" Tyler snapped, pointing the gun straight at him.
"I—I don't have any money on me… it's all in the bank," the cashier stammered, dropping to his knees with his hands raised.
"Don't test my patience," Tyler said coldly.
The man hesitated, frozen with fear, unable to move.
Without warning, Tyler yanked off the Halloween mask covering his face and grabbed the cashier by his shirt, dragging him forward until they were face to face.
His eyes were ruthless.
"Where's the money?" he demanded.
"I'm sorry, but this is just how it is....okay okay....let me give you half part of it"
Tyler didn't hesitate. He raised the gun and fired twice, the shots echoing as the bullets tore into the man's skull. The cashier dropped instantly—dead before his body even hit the floor.
Tyler yanked open the drawer and grabbed all the cash. Around him, the crew moved fast, snatching customers' phones and anything valuable in sight.
Within minutes, they were gone.
By the time the cops arrived, the place was chaos—but empty. No suspects. No witnesses willing to talk. The gang had already vanished into thin air.
Officers rushed through the supermarket, checking every room, but there was nothing—no trace, no clues. Workers and customers had scattered in fear.
They pulled up the security system, hoping for something… anything.
Nothing.
Just static.
What they didn't know was that the crew had already handled that too—shooting out every camera before they left, leaving the entire place blind.