It had been a week since the incident, and things were far from calm. The Black Cats were on high alert, tensions rising between factions, and whispers of betrayal circulated like wildfire. The only thing keeping the gang grounded was the grueling training that Jake, their leader, had ordered.
The warehouse-turned-training-ground echoed with the sound of punches, kicks, and grunts. Mats covered the floor, sweat dripped down bodies, and the air was thick with intensity.
Keon and Neon, as usual, weren’t taking things as seriously as the others—or so it seemed.
Keon ducked a sparring partner’s swing, twirled behind him, and tapped his neck. “You’re dead,” he smirked before walking off like it was a fashion runway.
“Focus, Keon!” Ryan barked from the side, arms crossed, watching everything
