Morning came late to the Southside.
Even with the sun fully up, it felt like the whole neighborhood stayed under a shadow like yesterday's blood still soaked into the concrete, tinting everything darker than it should've been. Stores opened slow. People whispered instead of talking. Cops rolled through in pairs instead of singles.
War had a tone.
And everyone could hear it now.
Inside the cleaners, Big Head sat alone at the far table, elbows on his knees, staring at a burner phone buzzing every few minutes with updates from corners, lookouts, and Tee. He hadn't slept. None of the boys really had.
The night before changed the city.
This morning proved it.
Jack walked in wiping sleep from his eyes, carrying two cups of coffee he stole from the bodega down the street. He set one beside Big Head.
"You look like you ain't blinked once," Jack said.
"Didn't need to," Big Head replied. "City didn't blink either."
Jack blew on the coffee. "Psycho and Rob already out. Rob on the car. Psycho on feet. Lo hasn't left the building yet."
Big Head nodded. His jaw moved slow, controlled the same way it did when he was thirteen and trying to figure out how to pay rent without letting Miss Lo know he'd been skipping meals. That same pressure sat on his chest now, only heavier.
"You still sure she can't know?" Jack asked.
"She finds out she being followed," Big Head said, "she'll start changing her routine. Andre's boys watching patterns. We change hers, we show our hand."
Jack didn't argue.
He trusted Big Head's instincts even when he hated them.
A knock hit the back door quick, light, familiar.
Tee.
Jack went to get him. A second later, Tee stepped in, out of breath, cold clinging to his hoodie.
"Big Head something happened."
Big Head stood instantly. "Lo?"
"No well, not directly," Tee said, hands shaking slightly as he warmed them. "I was walking by Jericho Market. Lo went in to grab something. Wasn't nothing. But two dudes in an Eastside car rolled real slow past the windows."
Jack stiffened, instantly alert. "Eastside tags?"
"Yeah," Tee said. "Same car I seen asking about Miss Lo yesterday. Same dude in the passenger seat."
Big Head already expected that part.
"What they do?" he asked.
"They didn't grab her," Tee said. "Didn't even get out. They just watched. Like… studied. Driver had his phone out, low in his lap, pointed at the storefront."
"They recording her," Jack muttered.
"Testing," Big Head said. "Andre checking response time."
Tee blinked. "Response time?"
"He want to know if she protected," Big Head said. "If someone show up. If anyone watching."
Tee looked shaken. "He know something then."
"He know enough to be dangerous," Big Head said.
Before anyone could move, Big Head's phone buzzed.
Rob: Lo leaving the market. Psycho trailing. Eastside car circled the block again.
Jack stepped closer. "They're escalating."
"No," Big Head said, grabbing his gun off the desk. "They rehearsing."
Psycho walked half a block behind Lo, hood up, hands in pockets, steps loose like he was vibing to a song only he could hear.
Lo pushed open the door of the market and stepped onto the sidewalk, grocery bag in one hand.
Psycho clocked everything fast
The Eastside sedan parked crooked near the alley
The passenger lifting his phone slightly
The driver pretending to smoke but watching mirrors
He also noticed something else most people would've missed.
The car wasn't positioned to snatch Lo.
It was positioned to follow her.
Information run.
Pattern test.
Chess move.
Psycho's jaw ticked once.
He kept walking, letting his reflection in a barber shop window track the sedan.
Lo crossed the street. She didn't see the danger. Didn't feel it. Her world looked normal. She even smiled briefly at Mrs. Ramos sweeping her porch.
Psycho envied that innocence for half a second.
Then the Eastside sedan rolled forward.
Not fast.
Not loud.
Just a silent glide, staying a car length behind Lo.
Psycho muttered under his breath, "Try it… and I'll paint this whole damn street with you."
He tapped his collar mic.
"Movement," he said quietly. "Eastside creeping behind her."
Rob's voice crackled back, calm and sharp. "I got eyes from back angle. Just observing so far."
"Not for long," Psycho muttered.
Lo reached the end of the block and stopped at the crosswalk. She checked her phone, unaware of anything else.
The sedan slowed… rolled closer… closer…
Then
TAP.
The passenger tapped the roof twice.
The driver sped up slightly, rolled past Lo, and took a left onto a side street.
Not leaving.
Repositioning.
Psycho grit his teeth. "Big Head, you got this?"
His earpiece crackled. "Already on the corner."
Big Head leaned against a closed storefront at the next corner, hood up, hands deep in his pockets. He watched the sedan turn down a parallel street and slow again.
Andre's boys were setting up a pincer observation
One angle from behind
One angle from ahead
Classic surveillance grid.
The type trained soldiers use.
Not corner kids.
"Yeah," Big Head whispered to himself. "Andre spending more money. More brains."
He stepped into the shadow of a doorway as Lo approached the crosswalk. She didn't notice him; he positioned himself behind a pillar.
From this angle, he saw the second Eastside car tucked near a hydrant.
Two sets of eyes watching her.
Big Head exhaled slowly.
"Jack," he said into his mic. "Loop left. You don't get seen."
Jack's voice answered, "Already moving."
"Rob?"
"Still behind the first car. They repositioning but haven't clocked us yet."
"Psycho?"
"I'm ready to break teeth," Psycho muttered.
"Hold position," Big Head said.
Because this was the moment Andre wanted to see.
If Lo walked…
If no one reacted…
If she looked alone…
Andre would assume she wasn't important.
But if Big Head stepped out now
If the Southside moved too obvious
Andre would know she mattered.
And that would put a bullet on her name.
Lo crossed the street.
The sedan watched.
Psycho watched the sedan.
Big Head watched everything.
The air felt like wire stretched tight.
Then it happened.
A man rounded the corner fast, hoodie up, hands deep in pockets. He wasn't Eastside. He wasn't Southside. Just some neighborhood junkie cutting through.
He bumped Lo hard.
Her bag nearly fell from her hand.
"Watch where the hell you going!" she snapped.
He didn't apologize. Just kept walking like he didn't care about anything but whatever demons were chasing him.
But that bump?
It wasn't an accident.
Big Head saw the way the Eastside car reacted
Passenger sat up straight
Phone tilted higher
Driver leaned forward
"Test," Big Head whispered. "They want to see who steps in."
Lo regained her balance, annoyed but unhurt.
Psycho's knuckles cracked loudly from a half block back.
The junkie kept walking, oblivious.
Rob spoke softly into the mic. "Eastside thinking that was us?"
"Probably," Jack replied. "Looking for patterns."
Big Head stepped deeper into the doorway, heart pounding—not from fear, but restraint.
Every instinct screamed to go to Lo.
To check her.
To make sure she was okay.
But that instinct was exactly what Andre was counting on.
"Psycho," Big Head said calmly, "don't move."
"Bro"
"Don't move," Big Head repeated.
Psycho froze mid-step.
Lo kept walking, adjusting her jacket as she headed home.
The Eastside sedan didn't leave.
If anything, it became more focused.
Big Head watched it carefully, memorizing plates, dents, window tint.
Then the passenger rolled his window down just a crack spit a wad of gum onto the pavement and rolled it back up.
A signal.
The car pulled off.
Slow.
Smooth.
Deliberate.
Jack whispered, "You want us to follow?"
"No," Big Head said. "Let them think we stupid."
Psycho scoffed, confused. "We not following the ops?"
Big Head stepped out of the shadow and started walking in the same direction the sedan went—but from a different angle.
"We following," he said. "Just not the way they expecting."
Andre sat at a long wooden table, watching two grainy videos side by side on his tablet
Lo walking from the market
Lo crossing the street after the staged bump
His lieutenant hovered behind him.
"She didn't react scared," the lieutenant noted. "Didn't look over her shoulder. Didn't rush home."
"No one came to her," Andre murmured. "Nobody stepped out."
"Means she not protected," the lieutenant said.
Andre smirked faintly.
"Or they smart enough to stay invisible."
He tapped the screen.
"Run it again."
The lieutenant replayed both videos.
Andre watched intently.
"Rewind the second one," Andre said. "The corner behind her. That doorway."
The lieutenant rewound and zoomed.
A faint shadow moved in a doorway before disappearing again.
Too subtle for most watchers.
Not subtle enough for Andre Gatewood.
"Somebody was there," Andre said softly.
"Could be anybody," the lieutenant offered.
Andre shook his head. "No. Southside learning how to breathe quiet. That shadow was one of them."
"So Lo is protected?"
Andre smiled cold.
"Oh, she's protected.
She just don't know it."
He leaned back, fingers steepled.
"And once a man tries to protect something?" He chuckled. "That something becomes the weapon."
Big Head returned to the cleaners an hour later, hood low, steps measured.
Jack and Rob were already there. Psycho paced near the window like a pitbull chained to a two-foot leash. Murk sat at the table sharpening a blade with slow, calm strokes.
"What you find?" Murk asked.
Big Head tossed a small object onto the table.
A gum wrapper.
Normal to anyone else.
Jack squinted. "That from the sedan?"
"Passenger spit the gum. They use that as a mark," Big Head said. "Signal to whoever else watching. Means the test done."
Rob asked, "They see us?"
"No," Big Head said. "But Andre didn't need to see us. He only needed to know if she alone."
"And she looked alone," Jack said, understanding.
"Exactly," Big Head replied. "Which means Andre's next move won't be a test."
Psycho stopped pacing. "What's it gonna be then?"
Big Head's eyes hardened. "A message."
Silence filled the cleaners like smoke.
Rob swallowed. "You think he gonna grab her?"
"Not yet," Big Head said. "Not until he sure it hurts me. Andre playing chess. Before he takes a piece, he taps the board."
Murk asked, "So what's our move?"
Big Head inhaled slow. "Shadow stays on Lo. Nothing changes. She cannot know. Andre cannot know she protected."
Jack nodded. "And Andre?"
Big Head cracked his knuckles—rare for him.
"We hit him where he not looking."
Psycho grinned. "Which is?"
Big Head looked at each of them—the brothers he grew up with, the soldiers who became killers in a single night, the crew now sitting in the center of a citywide storm.
"His weak link," Big Head said.
Murk raised an eyebrow. "Torian?"
Big Head nodded.
"Andre trust him least. Blames him most. And he sloppy. If the cartel don't kill him first…" Big Head's voice dropped. "We will."
Before they could plan further, the back door knocked slow, uncertain.
Not Tee's knock this time.
Jack's hand went straight to his gun. Psycho melted toward the shadows. Murk rose by the doorframe, blade ready.
Big Head opened the door just an inch.
An older woman stood there trembling, eyes red from crying.
Big Head recognized her immediately.
Miss Alma three doors down from Lo when they were kids. The woman who used to braid Lo's hair on the steps. The one who always said Big Head would grow into a good man "if he stopped fighting the world."
She held an envelope in her shaking hands.
"It's for you," she whispered.
Big Head took it carefully. "Who gave this to you?"
Her voice cracked.
"Two men," she said. "Said if I didn't deliver it, they'd burn my house down."
Psycho stepped forward fast. "What men?"
Big Head raised a hand quiet and opened the envelope.
Inside was a single photograph.
Lo.
Walking home.
Timestamped.
Sharp.
Clear.
Unmistakable.
Under it, written in black marker:
THE PAST DON'T GET TO BREATHE WHILE MINE BLEEDS.
A.G.
Big Head's vision went still.
Silent.
Dark.
Psycho whispered, "What it say?"
Big Head slid the photo back into the envelope and closed it.
"War," he said quietly. "And now it's personal."
The cleaners felt smaller after the envelope.
Not because the room changed, but because everything inside it had weight now. The photo sat on the desk like it could breathe. Like it knew it had power.
Big Head didn't sit down. He stood there, staring at the closed envelope, letting the message settle into his bones.
Andre had crossed the line.
Psycho was the first to break the silence. His voice was low, tight, dangerous.
"He threatening her."
"He confirming," Big Head said. "Threats come before fear. This comes after."
Jack leaned against the wall, arms folded. "So what now. We already shadowing her. Andre knows that much."
Andre knows enough, Big Head thought.
And that's worse.
Murk stepped closer to the desk and tapped the envelope once with his finger. "This ain't intimidation. This is bait."
Big Head nodded. "He wants me to move wrong."
Rob ran a hand through his hair. "If we grab Lo now, move her somewhere safe, Andre gonna know he hit something."
"And if we don't," Psycho snapped, "she a sitting duck."
Big Head finally picked up the envelope and slid the photograph out again. He studied it. The timestamp. The angle. The clarity.
"This wasn't taken to scare her," he said. "This was taken to study me."
Jack frowned. "How you figure."
"Because if Andre wanted her scared," Big Head said, "he would've made sure she knew she was being watched. This stayed quiet. That means he waiting on a reaction."
Psycho paced, fists clenching and unclenching. "So we do nothing."
"No," Big Head said. "We do everything. Just not loud."
He folded the photograph and put it back in the envelope, then slid it into his jacket.
"First thing," he continued, "Lo's shadow doesn't change. Psycho and Rob rotate like before. You don't save her. You don't warn her. You stop problems before they become visible."
Rob nodded immediately. "Already mapped her routes."
"Second," Big Head said, looking at Jack, "we find Torian."
Jack's eyebrows rose. "You want him now."
"I want him before Andre does," Big Head said. "If Andre loses his leash, he tightens his grip somewhere else. Torian is the crack in his armor."
Murk leaned back against the counter. "He sloppy. Always been. That makes him useful."
"And dangerous," Jack added.
Big Head nodded. "That's why we don't grab him yet. We watch him. Learn where he sleeps. Where he drinks. Who he talks to when Andre ain't around."
Psycho stopped pacing. "You trying to flip him."
"No," Big Head said calmly. "I'm trying to make him desperate enough to choose wrong."
The room went quiet again.
Then Tee knocked on the back door.
Jack let him in quickly. Tee looked wired, eyes darting like the city might jump him inside the room.
"They back," Tee said. "Andre's people. Different car this time. Black Charger. They circling the block by Lo's aunt place."
Big Head closed his eyes for half a second.
"How close," he asked.
"Close enough to feel it," Tee said. "They not grabbing nobody yet. Just making presence known."
Big Head nodded. "Good. That means Andre still playing patience."
Psycho scoffed. "Patience don't mean mercy."
"No," Big Head agreed. "It means confidence."
He turned to Rob. "Stay on the Charger. Don't tail. Just confirm plates and direction."
Rob was already moving. "On it."
Big Head turned to Murk. "I want eyes on Andre's main spots. Clubs. Corners. Anywhere he still showing face."
Murk nodded once. "Already got two lookouts in place."
"And Jack," Big Head said, "you with me."
Jack straightened. "Where we going."
"To remind Andre," Big Head said, "that he not the only one who can send messages."
They left the cleaners separately.
No group moves. No patterns. No noise.
That was the new rule.
Across town, Andre Gatewood sat inside a quiet office above a shuttered club. The music was off. The lights were dim. Everything about the room felt controlled.
Too controlled.
His lieutenant stood by the window watching the street below. "They didn't move her."
Andre smiled faintly. "Of course they didn't."
"Means she matters," the lieutenant said.
"No," Andre replied. "Means they smart. Or scared. Either way, pressure working."
He tapped the table once. "Where Torian at."
The lieutenant hesitated. "Last I heard, he been bouncing between spots. Drinking heavy. Running his mouth."
Andre's smile faded. "That boy always talk when he nervous."
"You want me to bring him in," the lieutenant asked.
"Not yet," Andre said. "Loose dogs run back home when they hungry."
He leaned back in his chair. "And I want to see who tries to feed him."
Andre's phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A single message.
"He moving sloppy."
Andre stared at it, then looked up slowly.
"Southside watching Torian," he murmured.
The lieutenant stiffened. "You think they going after him."
Andre stood. "Not yet. They thinking. That makes them dangerous."
He grabbed his coat. "Which means I need to make them stop thinking."
Back on the Southside, Lo locked her door and leaned against it for a moment, breathing out slowly.
She felt it.
Not danger exactly.
Just the sense of being seen.
She shook it off and moved into the kitchen, unpacking groceries, trying to focus on small normal things. The hum of the fridge. The rattle of the sink. The way the light flickered before settling.
She did not know she had been photographed.
She did not know two men sat in a car down the block memorizing her face.
She did not know two more men had already memorized the car.
Psycho leaned against a bus stop sign across the street, pretending to scroll his phone. Rob sat in a parked car half a block back, engine off, eyes sharp.
The Charger rolled by once more.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Psycho memorized the driver's face through the windshield reflection.
Then the car turned and disappeared.
Rob spoke quietly into the mic. "They pulling out. Heading East."
Psycho didn't move. "Let them."
Inside the cleaners, Big Head stood over a map Jack had laid out across the desk. Andre's territory marked in red. Known hangouts circled. Torian's usual bars highlighted.
"This," Big Head said, tapping a spot near the river, "is where Torian drinks when he think nobody watching."
Jack nodded. "He go there when he mad at Andre."
Big Head's jaw tightened. "Good."
Jack looked up. "You sure about this."
"No," Big Head said honestly. "But Andre made it personal. That means he expecting me to react emotional."
Jack smirked faintly. "So you react surgical."
"Exactly."
Big Head folded the map.
"Tonight," he said, "Andre thinks he applying pressure."
Jack met his eyes. "And he is."
Big Head's voice dropped. "But pressure works both ways."
He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
Outside, the Southside breathed uneasy. Sirens in the distance. Helicopters chopping air somewhere overhead. The city tightening around itself.
Big Head stepped into it anyway.
Because if Andre wanted pressure,
then Big Head was ready to show him exactly where it hurt.