Tommy's heart raced as the trucks rolled down the dark, empty streets, their destination unknown. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, eyes locked on the rear of the convoy ahead. The quiet hum of engines was the only sound breaking the stillness of the night, but Tommy's mind was anything but calm. His instincts screamed at him that something wasn't right.
Richie sat beside him, scanning the roads ahead, ready for anything. "You're sure about this?" he asked under his breath, never taking his eyes off the trucks.
Tommy exhaled slowly. "We follow, and when the time's right, we hit them. Fast and clean."
Richie nodded, though his tension mirrored Tommy's. They had done this a hundred times before—tailing, ambushing, taking out their competition. But this felt different. The Wolf was unlike anyone they'd ever faced, and every time Tommy had thought he was a step ahead, The Wolf had been two ahead of him.
The convoy took a sudden turn down an isolated road, veering away from the usual industrial routes. Tommy cursed under his breath but kept following, pulling back slightly to avoid suspicion. The streetlights grew sparser, and soon the convoy was swallowed by the darkness of an industrial park on the city's edge. This was a bad sign—these places were ideal for setting traps, and Tommy knew it.
Richie reached for the gun holstered at his waist. "Something feels off."
"Keep it steady," Tommy said, his voice tense. "We're not moving until we know what we're dealing with."
They pulled the car over, parking behind a stack of old shipping containers. Tommy watched as the trucks slowed to a stop ahead, their headlights casting long shadows over the cracked asphalt. Men began to emerge from the cabs, unloading crates into one of the large, rundown warehouses nearby.
Tommy motioned for Richie to follow as they quietly slipped out of the car, keeping low to the ground as they approached. The air was thick with tension, the night filled with the distant hum of the city and the occasional clatter of crates being moved. The only sounds around them were their quiet, calculated breaths.
They crept closer, weaving between the shadows of rusted machinery and forgotten freight. As they got within earshot, Tommy caught snatches of conversation from the men unloading the trucks—Russian accents, sharp and clipped, barking orders back and forth. It was definitely The Wolf's crew, and it was clear they were moving something big.
But Tommy knew better than to strike right away. He gestured to Richie to stay put, silently urging caution. Something about the scene didn't feel right, and he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. He scanned the area again, his eyes lingering on the rooftops and the edges of the warehouse, looking for signs of an ambush.
Suddenly, a movement in the distance caught Tommy's eye. A figure darted between the shadows, too quick and deliberate to be one of the workers. Tommy tensed, his pulse quickening.
"Pull back," Tommy whispered urgently to Richie. "Now."
But before they could retreat, a sharp voice cut through the silence. "You're not going anywhere, Bannister."
Tommy and Richie froze as men emerged from the shadows around them, weapons drawn, their faces cold and unfeeling. They had walked right into it—a trap, just as Tommy had feared. The Wolf's men were everywhere, surrounding them, rifles pointed directly at their heads.
Tommy cursed under his breath, anger and frustration boiling inside him. The Wolf had anticipated this move, led them straight into the jaws of his operation. Tommy had been careful, calculated—but The Wolf was always ahead, always watching.
One of the men stepped forward, his face half-hidden in the dim light. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a scar running down the side of his cheek—a face Tommy recognized. He had seen this man at the mansion, one of The Wolf's top enforcers, always hovering near the edges of power.
"You really thought you could sneak up on us?" the man sneered, his voice dripping with amusement. "The boss has been expecting you."
Richie tensed beside Tommy, his hand inching toward his gun. But Tommy knew it was futile. They were outnumbered and outgunned, and trying to fight their way out would only end in death. For now, they had to play it smart.
The enforcer stepped closer, his rifle still trained on Tommy. "The Wolf sends his regards," he said, smirking. "But he's tired of your little games. You're not going to walk away from this one."
Tommy clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain calm. His mind raced, searching for a way out of this mess. There had to be something he could do—some way to turn the situation to his advantage.
The enforcer took a step closer, readying himself to deliver the final blow, when suddenly, a gunshot rang out from the distance. The sound echoed through the night, and for a moment, everything froze. The enforcer's smirk faded, replaced by confusion and anger.
Before anyone could react, more gunshots erupted from the shadows, and chaos broke out. The Wolf's men scrambled, trying to take cover as bullets whizzed through the air. Tommy seized the opportunity, grabbing Richie and diving behind a stack of crates.
"What the hell is happening?" Richie shouted over the noise.
Tommy didn't have time to respond. He peeked around the edge of the crate, trying to get a sense of what was going on. Whoever had opened fire wasn't with them—but they weren't with The Wolf either. It was a third party, someone who had been waiting in the wings, biding their time.
As the gunfire continued, Tommy spotted them—a small, well-trained group of men moving with military precision, taking down The Wolf's enforcers with brutal efficiency. Tommy didn't recognize them, but their presence sent a chill down his spine. These weren't common street thugs. They were professionals.
"Get ready to move," Tommy hissed to Richie, adrenaline surging through him. "When they clear the way, we're out of here."
Richie nodded, his face pale but determined.
As the firefight continued, Tommy and Richie stayed low, watching as the mysterious group tore through The Wolf's men. It didn't take long before the enforcers were either dead or retreating, scattering into the night. The attackers moved quickly, securing the area with a level of precision that made Tommy uneasy.
And then, just as quickly as they had appeared, the group melted back into the shadows, leaving only the bodies of The Wolf's men behind.
Tommy and Richie took their chance, slipping away from the docks and disappearing into the maze of streets. They didn't stop running until they were far from the industrial park, their breaths heavy and their hearts pounding in their chests.
Once they were safely out of sight, Tommy leaned against a wall, trying to catch his breath. His mind raced with questions—who were those men? And what did they want with The Wolf's operation?
Richie was still catching his breath beside him. "Who the hell were those guys?" he asked, his voice tinged with fear.
"I don't know," Tommy admitted, his voice grim. "But one thing's clear—this war isn't just between us and The Wolf anymore."
As the night wore on, Tommy couldn't shake the feeling that something much bigger was at play, something far beyond the usual gang wars and power struggles. The Wolf was dangerous, yes—but whoever these new players were, they were operating on a whole different level. And Tommy had the sinking feeling that he had just stepped into a game he didn't fully understand.
For now, they had survived. But Tommy knew that whatever had just happened at the docks was only the beginning. The stakes had just been raised, and the danger was far from over.