Day 63: The Breaking Point
The air inside the warehouse was thick with tension, the weight of impending violence pressing down on everyone like a suffocating blanket. Eli stood near the entrance, his body still aching from the mad sprint to reach the warehouse before Vince and his crew. He gripped his knife tightly, his heart pounding as he listened to the sound of the Black Fangs gathering outside.
The motorcycles had gone silent, their engines cut. For a brief, fragile moment, the warehouse was quiet except for the distant shuffle of boots on dirt and the occasional muttered order. Eli glanced around the room, seeing the fear in everyone's eyes, but also their determination. They had no choice now. It was fight or die.
Cass moved silently next to him, her jaw clenched, her eyes fixed on the door. Luke was nearby, giving out last-minute instructions to the group. Makeshift barricades had been set up, and those who had weapons held them in tight grips, waiting for the inevitable.
"We can hold them off," Luke said, though his voice carried a tension Eli hadn't heard before. "They think they can just walk in here, but we've got the advantage."
Eli wanted to believe him, but he knew the reality. Vince and his gang were ruthless, and they wouldn't stop until they got what they wanted. This was more than just a raid. It was about control, about showing that no one could defy the Black Fangs and get away with it.
Suddenly, the loud crash of something heavy slamming into the steel doors echoed through the warehouse, making Eli's heart jump. The door shook violently, the sound reverberating through the walls.
"They're trying to break it down," Cass said, her voice low and tense. "They must have brought a battering ram."
Luke's face tightened. "Get ready."
Another crash, louder this time. The makeshift barricades rattled, the heavy steel door buckling under the force of the assault. The Black Fangs weren't waiting for negotiations—they were coming in, and they were coming in hard.
Eli's pulse quickened, his grip tightening on the hilt of his knife. He moved back, positioning himself near the others, ready for whatever was about to happen. The room was dead silent now, everyone holding their breath.
With a deafening clang, the door gave way, the steel hinges snapping under the force of the ram. The doors flew open, crashing against the walls as Vince's crew stormed into the warehouse, their faces twisted in smug satisfaction. The battering ram—a thick metal pipe reinforced with scavenged parts—was dropped to the floor with a heavy thud as the gang fanned out inside.
Vince was the first to step forward, his eyes cold as they swept across the room, taking in the makeshift defenses and the people who had scrambled to hold them back. A slow smile spread across his face as he adjusted his grip on the rifle slung over his shoulder.
"Did you really think you could get away from us?" Vince's voice cut through the tension like a blade, dripping with condescension. "Run off to your little hideout and just disappear? You must think we're idiots."
No one moved. Eli could feel the unease radiating from the group. Even Luke, usually so composed, seemed uncertain. They were outnumbered, and the Black Fangs had the clear advantage.
Vince's smile twisted into something darker as he continued. "You were supposed to pay. That was the deal. But instead, you ran. You tried to hide. And now… well, now you've got a price to pay."
He motioned to the rest of his crew, who began to spread out, their weapons drawn. Some of them were grinning, eager for the confrontation, while others simply looked like they were waiting for Vince to give the order.
"Here's how this is going to work," Vince said, his voice growing colder. "You give us most of what you've got. Supplies, weapons, anything worth taking. That's your punishment for trying to run from us. And you'll pay the quota you missed, too. Double."
Eli's blood boiled at the smugness in Vince's tone. He glanced at Luke, who was staring Vince down, his expression hard but unreadable. Eli knew that look—Luke was weighing his options, trying to figure out if there was a way out of this without violence.
But Eli knew Vince wasn't here for negotiation. He was here to send a message. And that message was written in blood.
Luke stepped forward, his voice calm but filled with underlying tension. "We're not giving you everything. We need those supplies to survive. You want tribute? Fine. But we're not handing it all over."
Vince chuckled, the sound dark and mocking. "Tribute? This isn't about tribute anymore. This is about teaching you a lesson. You ran from us. And now you're going to learn what happens when people try to cross the Black Fangs."
He took a step closer, his smile widening as he tilted his head toward the supplies stacked against the walls. "All of it. You give us all of it, or we take it by force. Your choice."
Tension crackled in the air, every second stretching into eternity as Vince and Luke stared each other down. Eli could see the hesitation in Luke's eyes, the calculation. If they fought now, there would be blood, but if they handed over everything, they wouldn't last another week. Vince knew that, and he was counting on it. This was more than a shakedown—it was a death sentence.
Eli's heart pounded in his chest. He'd run from them once. He wasn't going to do it again. His grip tightened on the knife at his side, and for a moment, the only sound in the warehouse was the faint hum of the Black Fangs' motorcycles idling outside, their engines growling like predators waiting for the kill.
Suddenly, Cass's voice cut through the silence, sharp and defiant. "You think you can just take everything from us and walk out of here?" She stepped forward, her eyes locked on Vince with a fire Eli hadn't seen in her before. "We won't make it that easy for you."