No Way Out

Sting Operation

Trey thought things couldn't get any worse. Sleeping in Malik's cramped closet, dodging Tiana's cousins, and frantically juggling apologies to three different women already felt like rock bottom. But Trey was wrong—dead wrong. Jasmine wasn't just an older, pissed-off ex who slipped him extra change at the corner store. She was far more dangerous than he ever imagined.

It was one of those slow evenings in Malik's apartment, where the group gathered because, well, nobody really had anywhere better to be. Trey paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair, a mix of stress and frustration etched on his face. Malik was slumped on the couch, half-watching reruns on the TV, barely paying attention to Trey's rambling.

"I just need one more shot to explain everything," Trey muttered for the hundredth time. "I know I can fix this. Tiana, Jasmine, Shayla—they all just need to hear my side of things."

Keisha, sitting in the corner scrolling through her phone, snorted without looking up. "Boy, you couldn't fix a flat tire with a spare and a jack. You really think any of those girls are still checking for you after the mess you made?"

"Come on, Keisha, don't do me like that," Trey whined, pacing faster. "I didn't mean for things to get this bad. Tiana's cousins... they were just supposed to scare me a little, not try to kill me."

Malik chuckled from the couch. "Bro, you're lucky they didn't. You should've just come clean when you had the chance."

Shay, always the quiet one in the group, sat cross-legged on the floor, absorbed in her phone. She hadn't said much the entire evening, just listening to Trey dig his grave deeper with every word. She was the type to observe everything, never really saying what was on her mind until she absolutely had to.

Before Trey could launch into another round of self-pity, there was a knock at the door. It was quick, loud, and urgent—way too aggressive for a casual visitor. The entire room went still, all eyes shifting to the door as Malik slowly got up to answer it.

"You expecting somebody?" Shay asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Nah, nobody's supposed to be coming by tonight," Malik replied cautiously, peeking through the door's peephole.

He opened the door just a crack, but that was all it took for everything to change. Standing there in the hallway was Jasmine, her face expressionless, calm in a way that made the air feel thick with tension. But it wasn't just Jasmine. Behind her, a squad of police officers loomed, all of them dressed in plain clothes, serious, and ready for something big.

Trey's heart plummeted into his stomach. "Jasmine? What the hell is this?"

Jasmine stepped into the apartment, flashing a badge like she was clocking into work. "Trey, we need to talk. And not just you—all of you."

The room fell silent, as if someone had sucked all the air out. Malik, his face frozen in disbelief, stammered, "Wait... you're a cop?"

Jasmine's voice was flat, professional. "Undercover. For the past year."

Keisha's usual nonchalant attitude vanished. She sat there, chips halfway to her mouth, her jaw hanging open. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me," she whispered, disbelief shaking her voice.

Shay, who was always skeptical of everything, even looked genuinely shocked. Malik, the carefree clown of the group, looked like he'd just been sucker-punched.

The police officers behind Jasmine wasted no time. They pushed into the small apartment, their eyes scanning the room as if they were ready to turn it upside down at any moment. One officer headed straight for Malik's pile of dirty laundry, flipping through it like he expected to find something important between the sweatpants and socks.