Page 11

ten

Inside Job

Hawk (“Crow”)

Young, Dumb, & Broke: Khalid

W atching Whitney decisively take down Red and 13 was undeniably the fucking highlight of my week. Who would have guessed she had such a powerful punch and could hold her own like that? I can't help but crave more of it. Although women aren't allowed in the MM arena, I genuinely believe Whitney would excel and outshine most of the guys we have in the mix right now.

As Raze and I step into the club following the brawl, we walk straight into another one. A newcomer foolishly decided to get overly friendly with one of the dancers. I can’t tear my eyes away as King and D pummel him mercilessly, turning him into a bloody mess on the girls' stage, right in front of everyone. It's not typical behavior for them, but I’ve noticed they’ve been spiraling into chaos lately, falling into a dark hole that I worry they might not escape.

I scan the room for Boston and Whitney but find no sign of them. I try to shake it off, assuming they’re together, and head out to find Raze. We’ve got to tie up the last bits of our next heist after closing tonight. Since one of the MM members has an in at a jewelry store we’re targeting, we should be in and out with nearly $500,000 in jewelry and cash in no time. But, as always, every job comes with risks, no matter how much we plan or who we have lined up to help.

Spotting Raze in his usual spot—where he keeps a watchful eye on Whitney while she dances—I take the seat next to him. He’s quieter than usual, which is his way of signaling that something is weighing on him. We grew up together, moving from group homes to foster homes, always placed in the same spot by some stroke of luck. Our bond runs deeper than any other relationship I have, and with Whitney, it’s a connection that feels fucking unbreakable.

"Where the fuck is she?" he asks, skipping the usual greetings.

"I have no idea. My best guess is she’s with Boston, talking or some shit. But given how much Whitney hates opening up—especially to girls—I don't know any more than you do," I reply, knowing my words will likely piss him off.

Just then, D whistles sharply, cutting off our conversation. A swarm of masked men drops what they’re doing and lines up at the basement door, including Red and 13. Raze and I stand, our frustration simmering over not seeing Whitney, but we know our priorities in this line of work—unfortunately, she comes second to the task at hand.

Downstairs, folding tables are set up in the common area, each one cluttered with black ski masks, latex gloves, earpieces, and walkie-talkies. Excitement surges in my chest, a fire igniting within me as I realize we're one step closer to the next job. That thrill makes all the surrounding chaos fade into the background.

"Find a set and stand with it," D instructs, watching everyone scramble to grab supplies from the tables.

Raze and I settle next to each other, with Red and 13 following closely, standing opposite us, their faces marred by bruises from Whitney’s earlier attack. I can't help but smile at the sight.

"We're hitting the jeweler tonight," King announces, moving through the room, ensuring everyone is present and alert.

When he approaches our table and takes in Red and 13's battered faces, he bursts into laughter, clearly aware of what transpired. He shakes his head at them, disappointment evident.

"Since you two let a girl half your size kick your asses, you’ll be with the lookouts—you’ll radio in on your walkie if anything seems off, and especially if you see anyone who isn’t MM approaching the area. Think you two can handle that?" King teases, shaking his head as he walks away.

"We can handle it, King," Red retorts, fury darkening his gaze.

"Yeah, we’ll see." He saunters over to D, swiping a cigarette from his hand.

"Since we have the code for the safe, that’s all we’re hitting tonight. Understood?" D informs the group, whispering something to Tann, who stands quietly beside him, nodding in agreement.

"We’ll have four inside the vault and about ten of you assisting with transporting the items in black duffel bags that will be provided. Think of it as an assembly line," D chuckles, shrugging. "Once a bag is full, pass it down the line to the loaders, who’ll then stow everything in the drivers' trunks. Those who have fast cars, you’ll be the getaway drivers. Tonight, no masks that will draw attention—just your official black Mayhem outfits, along with the ski masks and gloves on the table. Each of you will receive an earpiece and walkie for safety, and you're to keep a gun on you for preparedness."

Once we get the signal, we start getting suited up—swapping our face masks for ski masks and ensuring we are armed and ready, all dressed in our official black jumpsuit we're given upon initiation. Inside jobs usually go smoothly, but we always prepare for the unexpected because, in our line of work, anything can fucking happen.

When everyone is dressed, King and D separate us into distinct roles: lookouts, drivers, breachers, baggers, passers, and loaders. Raze and I land in the breachers category, our usual spot, due to our speed and efficiency.

The lookouts monitor for any threats while we’re inside. The drivers are responsible for transporting us to and from the job site, and most importantly, they sprint off with the haul, dispersing in different directions to evade any police or other issues that may arise before getting back to the club. The breachers are on the forefront, breaking into safes or directing tellers during bank jobs. The baggers gather up the goods we’re tasked with taking and load them into thick, black duffel bags, while the passers move the full bags down the line to loaders, who put the bags into the vehicles.

King and D always accompany us on jobs, though most often, they’re monitoring from a blacked-out car nearby, watching through our GoPros and listening in via earpieces. We do the heavy lifting while they reap most of the rewards, but that’s just the nature of the game.

Rather than leaving via the club's main entrance, we slip out through the basement doors, piling into separate all-black cars or SUVs. The ride is quiet, my mind racing back to thoughts of Whitney. Every time I glance at Raze, he’s equally lost in thought, likely thinking about Whitney as well.

As we near our destination, the group inside the car joins together in a prayer—the same one we recite before every job. I’m not particularly religious, but I murmur the words anyway, knowing it certainly can’t hurt.

Once we finish the ritual, the atmosphere in the car shifts to one of tense anticipation. The silence envelops us, thick enough to slice with a knife. Each one of us is lost in our thoughts, but deep down, we all know what’s at stake tonight. The jewelry store is hardly just a store—it’s a fortress, teeming with alarms, security systems, and the possibility of unexpected complications.

As we pull up to the side of the store, the dim lights outside reveal our escape route through the rear, bypassing the main street and potential prying eyes. I glance out the window, half-expecting to see the familiar face of Whitney. My heart sinks—there’s no sign of her. Raze’s jaw tightens beside me as if sensing my disappointment. He casually places a hand on my shoulder, a silent reminder that I need to stay focused.

King’s voice crackles through the earpiece. “Alright, listen up. We move in under the cover of night. Stay sharp. D and I will breach the back entrance. The rest of you know your roles. No heroics. Stay quiet, stay fast. We’re in and out in five minutes. Got it?”

“Got it,” we echo back, adrenaline coursing through our veins.

With that, we exit the car swiftly, the chill of the night air biting at our exposed skin. The plan is simple on the surface, but each of us knows the real trick is maintaining our composure under pressure. Raze and I stand at the back entrance, eyeing the security cameras while waiting for the signal from King.

“Go,” he whispers, and the world blurs around us as we rush toward the door.

In one swift motion, I pull the door open, and we slip inside. The dark space barely has a heartbeat as the fluorescent lights flicker on, illuminating the well-organized chaos of the storage area. Raze immediately takes point, leading the way. I follow closely behind, my hands tingling with purpose, ready to tackle the first safe that crosses our path.

In the next few moments, we dart through the back offices, our surroundings familiar enough from the reconnaissance we’d done before. A safe comes into view, a massive metal door hewn with intricate combinations only the owner knows. I kneel beside it, my tools out and ready in case the code doesn't work. Raze covers King as he puts in the safe code, scanning the area for movement.

“D, tell me you’ve got eyes on the cameras,” I mutter through the earpiece, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Clear as day,” he replies, the calmness in his voice providing a much-needed reassurance.

“We’ve got company on the east side. They’re approaching," Red informs us through the walkie, sounding unusually calm.

Seconds tick by agonizingly slow as King works the combination lock, my hands moving deftly as panic simmers beneath my skin.

“Almost got it,” he hisses, his focus narrowing to the tumblers.

"Red, what's up with the company you said we had?" D asks, using the walkie.

"Coast is clear, they walked right past," he replies.

A click then punctuates the air, and the safe swings open to reveal stacks of cash and a treasure trove of jewelry shimmering like a siren's call. I almost lose my shit at the sight, but Raze pulls me back into reality.

“Get the bags!” he urges as Lux slips back out of the building to sit with D in the car, excitement lacing his voice.

I swiftly begin unloading the contents into the duffel bags, Raze mimicking my movements. Each item slips through my fingers like a dream, the promise of wealth almost intoxicating. But then—

Suddenly, a loud crash echoes from the front of the store, sending my heart plummeting into my stomach.

“What the fuck?” I manage to say, trying to remain calm.

“Stay put,” Lux orders, my eyes narrowing toward the source of the noise.

But instinct kicks in. We can’t linger here. Not when things are unraveling.

“Forget the rest and just grab the fucking cash! We need to move!” I shout, throwing the last of the jewelry into the bag and zipping it shut.

We move fast until the cash is completely emptied from the safe. As we turn to make our exit, the unmistakable sound of footsteps thunders closer.

King’s voice crackles urgently in my ear, “Get out now! They’re inside! Move!”

Raze and I bolt for the back door, urgency fueling every step as we dash toward freedom. My mind races with the scenarios unfolding—the police, the rival gang, or possibly something far worse. The exit seems miles away, but we press on, lungs burning as we near the rear of the store.

Just as we reach the exit, the unthinkable happens: the door slams shut in front of us, blocked by a figure. I freeze, catching a glimpse of a dark, covered face under the dim lighting, and my heart lurches in suspicion.

“Uh, who the fuck are you?” I gasp, shock rendering me momentarily speechless.

They stand there, fierce and unyielding, with a determination in their eyes that reminds me of a person on the hunt.

“Where is she?” he demands, his voice steady despite the chaos surrounding us.

Before I can answer, the sound of shouting and sirens echoes closer. My pulse quickens, the weight of the bags on our backs suddenly feeling like a leaden anchor.

“I don't know who the fuck you're looking for, but are you the reason the fucking cops are coming?” I ask, my voice low as I peer behind him, desperate to know if he’s come to lead us into a trap.

As Raze and I stay to confront the mysterious man, everyone else rushes out a different exit, determined to make it back to the club without being caught.

“I’m not here to fight you,” he replies, glancing nervously toward the noise, urgency creeping into his voice. “I came to—”

“Get down!” Raze shouts, pulling me to the side just as the door bursts open, and all fucking hell breaks loose.

Bullets begin to spray once again, a reminder of the other night. But as I peer up to catch a glimpse of the intruders, I come face-to-face with King, who seems to have come to make sure I and Raze didn't get left behind. The masked stranger runs off in a different direction as the sirens get closer. King extends his hand to help us up, and as fast as we fucking can, we bolt from the door he kicked in, quickly getting into the waiting car with D behind the wheel.

Being cautious, we don't speed off, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves. We take off, passing the army of police and SWAT officers as they race to the scene we're just leaving, watching the red and blue flashing lights disappear into the night behind us.