20-year-old Assyria Adina Stone yearned for peace but favored excitement. She was in a lane of her own. Discovering herself. Physically, she was on earth, but mentally, she was living through her own fantasy. She was a young woman and wanted to expl...
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"Stone, you listening to the plan?" Von asked King as they trailed one of the vans.
"Mm-hmm," King hummed, rechecking his clip.
To his left sat Kwan, dressed in all-black with his hood on. To his right, Dajon matched the theme as he played with his ring. They were following the van with Murphy and Freya in it, hoping that it'll lead them to Assyria.
"What about Murphy's crooked ass?" Dajon queried.
"He a deadman walking," King answered.
Von glanced back, "Stone."
"Stop calling me dat," King's eyes darkened.
"I ain't calling yo ass the damn demon inside you,"
"Bruh," Dajon chuckled, "Don't do that."
"A'ight," he turned forward as they approached a gate.
Detective Penn pulled over on the side and cut the lights as the van rolled through. Putting on a ski mask, King retrieved the gloves from his pocket and slipped them on.
"Stay out here," he glanced at Dajon when he reached for the handle.
"What?!" Dajon frowned, "Hell no, that's my fucking niece in there!"
"What did I say?"
"Bruv," Kwan sighed, "Just let him."
"If you get yo ass shot, I'm whooping yo ass,"
"Yeah yeah," Dajon muttered, pushing the door open.
As everyone exited the vehicle, Von offered King a vest but he declined.
"Tek it," Kwan told him.
"I don't need it,"
Before he could walk away, Dajon grabbed his arm and shoved the vest into his chest, "I'm not losing you out here, so take it!"
"Fuck y'all so sensitive for?" He glared, putting the vest on.
"Come on," Detective Penn grumbled, heading towards the back entrance.
Inside, a wounded and delirious Assyria was trying to fight the drugs seeping through her veins as she sat on the cold floor. She had no idea where she was or how long she had been out. The last thing she remembered was Meel standing over her as he beat her and called her all types of names for trying to escape.
While some girls were sent down south, she fought to get away but one of the terrified girls ratted her out. She fought as long as she could until Meel overpowered her. Now here she was, in some large empty mansion that smelled like piss and new paint.
"Where's that bitch Freya at?" Meel grumbled, pacing the floor with a bottle of pills in his hand.
"She got in with your cop friend, she showing him the new girls," one of the men spoke up.
