The old court was exactly as Kendrick remembered it cracked asphalt, rusted hoops, and graffiti covered walls. It had been their sanctuary once, a place where he and Trenton had dreamed of being more than the streets had to offer. Now it felt like a battleground.
Kendrick arrived a few minutes before midnight, his heart pounding as he approached the court. The cold air bit at his skin, and the faint hum of distant traffic filled the silence. He didn't have to wait long.
Trenton, Slim, and Mo-G stepped out of the shadows, their faces hard. Trenton carried a basketball, spinning it casually in one hand. "You showed up," he said, his voice low and steady. "I'll give you that."
Kendrick dropped his bag and squared his shoulders. "What do you want, Trent? Another lecture about loyalty?"
Trenton smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Loyalty isn't just words, K-Dawg. It's action. It's showing the people who had your back that you haven't forgotten them."
"I haven't forgotten anything," Kendrick said, his voice firm. "But I'm not throwing my life away for some idea of loyalty that keeps us all stuck."
Slim snorted. "Big talk for someone who used to cry when he missed a free throw."
Kendrick ignored him, keeping his focus on Trenton. "If this is about proving something, let's settle it. Right here. Right now."
Trenton's smirk widened. "You really think you can take me, K-Dawg? Fine. One on one. First to 21. You win, we back off. But if I win, you drop all this basketball nonsense and come back where you belong."
Kendrick's stomach churned. He didn't trust Trenton, not for a second. But he didn't have a choice. If he backed down now, he'd never get free of them. "Deal," he said.
They checked the ball, and the game began.
Trenton came out strong, his movements fast and precise. He drove to the hoop with ease, scoring the first few points before Kendrick could catch his breath. But Kendrick adjusted, using his speed and agility to counter Trenton's strength. He hit a clean three pointer, then another, tying the score.
The game was brutal. Every move, every shot, every rebound felt like a fight. Kendrick's muscles burned, and his lungs screamed for air, but he refused to give up. This wasn't just a game—it was his life.
At 19 19, Trenton drove hard to the basket, but Kendrick anticipated the move. He jumped, his hand swiping the ball cleanly from Trenton's grip. He dribbled back, planted his feet, and let the ball fly.
Swish.