'Why is it that you're everywhere that I seem to be?' A voice spoke, catching Nina's attention as she scanned the display of Chanel bags. Turning to see who was the person behind the voice, she locked eyes with the guy from the club, a smile gracing her face mixed with a hint of surprise.
'I could say the same,' she smirked, 'If I didn't know any better I would say you're following me.' He smiled, running his tongue over his bottom lip. 'Either that or destiny wants us to officially meet.'
'I didn't get to thank you for the bottle, that night,' she spoke, placing the bag she had in her hand back on the display. 'Nor did I get your name.'
'Zeke,' he replied. As Nina held out her hand to shake his, he grabbed it, bringing it to his lips and placing a kiss on it, a gesture which made her blush. 'Nina,' she introduced herself. 'It's nice to meet you and thank you for the bottle of champagne, you didn't have to.'
'I know,' he started. 'So tell me, am I making good effort with keeping your attention?'
'Only time will tell,' she replied.
He smirked. 'Well then, would you mind if I take you out sometime? A place where I could keep your attention.'
Nina hesitated for a bit, not wanting to come off as too eager. Staring at him, she tried to read him, trying to discern his intentions. The chance encounter had sparked a flicker of curiosity within her, but she couldn't help but wonder if this was merely a fleeting connection or the beginning of something else.
—
Shakur's words hung heavy in the car, the low hum of the music a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere. 'What the fuck is the point of waiting til they retaliate?' he'd argued, his voice laced with a simmering rage. 'We need to hit them first, before they double back and hit us. It's only a matter of time before Clad comes, guns blaring, trying to get his revenge for killing his wife and shooting up his daughter's graduation.'
The thought of Clad's vengeance was a constant shadow, a threat hanging over their heads. They were all acutely aware of the danger, but the instinct to strike first, to preempt the inevitable, was hard to resist. Rakim, however, remained calm, his voice steady as he countered Shakur's impulsiveness. 'I want his head as much as anybody else in this car, but we have to move smart,' he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. 'We can't have the feds sniffing around, it's already been a shit ton of shootings that lead back to us.' He glanced up from his phone as the light turned green, returning his focus to the road. 'I'm not risking more lives—'
His words were cut short by the deafening impact of a truck slamming into the side of their Challenger. The world seemed to freeze, the music stuttering to a halt as the truck t-boned them, sending their car careening across the intersection. Men spilled out of the truck, automatic weapons flashing in the sunlight, the sound of gunfire erupting in a cacophony of chaos.
The impact had been jarring, but none of the men in the Challenger were seriously hurt. They were alert, their instincts kicking in as they scrambled out of the now-wrecked car, their bodies tense and ready for a fight. The intersection had become a battlefield, a swirling vortex of gunfire and fear as both sides exchanged shots. 'Y'all good?' Dom yelled, taking cover, his voice a mix of concern and adrenaline as he returned fire. The quiet tension of their earlier conversation had been shattered, replaced by the raw, primal urgency of survival.
The streets echoed with the cacophony of gunfire, a symphony of metal and flesh meeting in a brutal ballet. Nas's shots, precise and deadly, had taken down one of the men leading the assault, sending him sprawling onto the asphalt. The two vehicles, a Challenger and a pickup truck, stood a good distance apart, their occupants seeking refuge behind their respective metal shields.
