The silence in the mansion became deafening after the call ended. The supplier's shaky breath was the only sound filling the room as Tyrone's men resumed their positions around him, their eyes locked on the door. The air was thick with tension, and the supplier, drenched in cold sweat, sat tied to the chair, glancing nervously at Tyrone, who stood with his arms crossed, staring out of the window, waiting.
Every second felt like an eternity to the supplier, his heart pounding in his chest. His thoughts raced, wondering if Ricco would sense something was wrong or if he'd walk straight into Tyrone's trap. His body tensed with each passing moment, knowing that no matter what happened, the outcome wouldn't be good for him.
Tyrone, on the other hand, was calm, too calm. His mind was sharp, already planning his next move, his expression unreadable. His silver-patterned Glock gleamed in the dim light, a silent reminder of his power. His demeanor showed no rush, but there was a menacing energy brewing beneath the surface, like a storm waiting to unleash its fury.
The minutes ticked by. The loud ticking of the wall clock was the only sound that interrupted the oppressive stillness. Tyrone's men kept a tight formation around the room, their hands resting on their holsters, eyes shifting between the door and their boss. They were ready, waiting for the moment Ricco arrived.
Suddenly, the sound of an approaching car broke the quiet. It was faint at first, then grew louder as it pulled up outside the mansion. Tyrone's body stiffened, and he glanced at his men, giving them a small nod. They immediately took their positions, two by the windows, their guns drawn, while two others remained by the supplier, keeping him in check.
The supplier's breath hitched as he heard footsteps approaching the door. His pulse quickened, and his stomach twisted into knots. He could barely think straight. The moment was here.
The front door creaked open, and Ricco stepped inside, flanked by two of his own men. He looked around, his face twisted into a suspicious frown as he saw the supplier sitting in the middle of the room, tied up, and Tyrone standing calmly by the window.
"What the hell is going on here?" Ricco's voice was laced with annoyance as he took a step forward.
Tyrone turned slowly, his face a mask of cold indifference, but his eyes burned with controlled fury. "Ricco, welcome," he said smoothly, his voice like ice. "I've been expecting you."
Ricco's frown deepened as he glanced from Tyrone to the supplier, realizing something was off. His hand instinctively moved toward his gun, but before he could draw it, one of Tyrone's men raised his weapon, aiming it directly at Ricco's head.
"Don't even think about it," the man warned, his finger hovering over the trigger.
Ricco's men tensed, their hands hovering near their guns, but they froze in place, seeing that they were outnumbered and outgunned. Ricco gritted his teeth, realizing he had walked straight into a trap.
Tyrone stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he closed the distance between himself and Ricco. "You've been playing both sides," Tyrone said, his voice low but full of venom. "You thought you could flip my men, burn my stash houses, and get away with it?"
Ricco's face twisted in defiance, but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about," he spat, his voice trembling slightly.
Tyrone chuckled darkly. "Oh, I know exactly what's going on." He gestured toward the supplier, who was pale, sweat dripping down his face. "Your little friend here was more than willing to cooperate once he realized what kind of trouble he was in."
Ricco shot a furious glare at the supplier, but before he could speak, Tyrone stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "You've been trying to dismantle what I've built, piece by piece. But you made a mistake, Ricco. You underestimated me."
The tension in the room thickened, and the air felt like it could snap at any moment. Tyrone's men stood at the ready, their fingers twitching on the triggers of their guns, waiting for a signal. Ricco's men were rigid, their hands trembling slightly as they tried to keep their composure.
Ricco took a deep breath, trying to regain control of the situation. "Tyrone, listen… this doesn't have to end like this. We can make a deal."
Tyrone's eyes darkened, and for a moment, the room felt like it had dropped several degrees in temperature. He took a step forward, standing nose to nose with Ricco, his voice barely above a whisper. "Well? Say the deal, my fingers are twitching."
"Tyrone, You know me and you c—"
Tyrone didn't hesitate. With a sharp, cold gaze, he pulled his silver-patterned Glock from his waistband, aiming it squarely at Ricco's chest. Without a word, he squeezed the trigger twice—*bang, bang*. The deafening shots echoed through the room as Ricco's body jerked violently before slumping to the floor, his eyes wide open in shock, blood pooling beneath him.
Ricco's men reached for their guns, but Tyrone's men were faster, aiming their weapons directly at them, daring them to move.
The supplier, still tied to the chair, froze in terror, his mind racing. He tried to form words, his lips trembling as he looked up at Tyrone, but all that came out was a stammered plea. "T-Tyrone, please... I—"
*Bang.*
A single shot cut off his sentence mid-beg. The bullet tore through his skull, silencing him instantly. His body went limp in the chair, head lolling to the side. The room fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the faint drip of blood hitting the polished floor.
Tyrone lowered his gun, his face expressionless as he looked at the two lifeless bodies before him. His men stood still, watching in stunned silence, knowing better than to question his actions. There was no remorse in Tyrone's eyes, only a calculated coldness, the kind that came from years of survival in a ruthless world.
He holstered his weapon and glanced at his men, his voice calm but commanding. "Clean this up. Leave nothing behind."
The men nodded, immediately moving to work. Tyrone turned and walked out of the mansion, stepping into the cool night air. His mind was already on his next move, and there was no time for hesitation. He had enemies to crush, alliances to mend, and power to protect.
The next morning, the city buzzed with the latest headlines. On television, a stern-faced journalist reported the crime scene, detailing the grisly discovery of two bodies, one of which belonged to Ricco—a known criminal figure. The screen flashed with images of the crime scene, yellow police tape surrounding the mansion, while investigators scoured for clues.
"This is the latest in a series of gang-related killings," the journalist said, her tone grave. "Ricco, believed to be connected to organized crime, was found dead alongside a known supplier. Authorities have yet to release any further information, but sources say the killings bear the markings of a professional hit."
In Mexico, a cartel member leaned back on a couch, watching the news unfold with a deep frown. He had been counting on that supplier to move their product through the U.S., and now the entire operation was jeopardized. Annoyed, he slammed his phone down before dialing one of his associates. His voice was thick with frustration as he demanded answers.
"Find out who did this," he growled. "I want names. We can't let this go unpunished."
Meanwhile, across the border, the DEA was also grappling with the news. Inside a dimly lit office, a group of agents stood around a table as footage of Ricco's body played on a screen. The director's face was stern, clearly disappointed. They had been building a case for months—tracking Ricco's movements, his deals—and now, with one bullet, everything had crumbled. Ricco, their most wanted target, was dead, leaving a gaping hole in their investigation.
One agent, arms crossed, shook his head. "We had him right where we wanted. Whoever took him out might've just set us back months."
The director stared at the screen. "We need to find out who did this. Whoever's cleaning house is moving fast, and if we don't get ahead of it, they'll tear apart the entire structure before we can."
The room was tense, every agent feeling the pressure mount. Someone out there was systematically eliminating their key targets, and they had no clue who it was. The only certainty was that the stakes had just risen dramatically.