GHOSTS IN THE CROSSFIRE
SMOKE’S POV
The air smelled of sweat, dirt, and fresh blood. Jimmy was breathing hard beside me, his eyes darting like a trapped rat. His face was pale, his hands shaking. I could hear him muttering under his breath, barely louder than a whisper.
“How were we supposed to leave this alive?” Jimmy’s voice was cracked, like he was already at his breaking point.
I glanced at him, face calm as still water. Panic didn’t help nobody. It just made people sloppy. “Follow my lead,” I said flatly. That’s all he needed to know. No extra words, no false comfort. Either you trust me, or you don’t.
The heavy door to the outside swung open, and the sunlight hit us like a spotlight. I stepped forward first, head high, eyes locked on the three guards waiting near the front. Same guards who’d taken our weapons earlier. Same guards who were already eyeing us like they knew something was off.
“Hand ‘em over,” I said, nodding at the guard holding my pistol and knife.
The man didn’t move. Crooked nose, sharp eyes. He looked at me, then glanced at the one they called “Head”, the head of security. Big guy, beard like steel wool, and eyes that never blinked. He was already reaching for his walkie.
“Hold up,” Head said, his voice sharp as a razor. “Don’t hand ‘em nothin’.” He pressed the button on the side of the walkie. “Boss, they’re ready to roll. We clear to send ‘em out?”
Static.
He pressed it again. “Boss? You copy?”
Silence.
The air shifted. I could feel it. Everyone could. It was the kind of quiet that crawled up your spine and made you check your back twice. Jimmy started breathing faster. Charle, as usual, was silent, still as stone, watching everything.
“Boss, respond,” Head growled, pressing the button harder like that would change something. Static hissed back at him like a snake.
No response.
The guards glanced at each other, uncertainty in their eyes. That’s when I saw it—fear. Not much, but enough. They were thinking the same thing we were. No response from the boss could only mean one thing.
Head’s eyes narrowed like he’d just seen through the fog. He dropped the walkie to his side and pulled his gun in one smooth motion. The other guards followed, rifles up, barrels pointed dead at us.
“On your knees,” Head barked. His voice boomed like thunder, echoing through the trees. “NOW!”
None of us moved at first. I glanced at Charle. No fear in his eyes, just focus. Jimmy, though, his knees were already shaking. His lip quivered, his eyes darting around for some kind of miracle.
“I said, on your knees!” Head yelled again, aiming his pistol right at my chest.
Options. Options. Options. My mind ticked like clockwork. Four guns on us. No weapons. Closest one is ten feet away, on the guard’s hip. No cover. No backup.
“Do it,” I muttered to Charle and Jimmy. “Get down.”
I lowered myself slowly, one knee, then the other. Charle followed suit, steady as ever. Jimmy nearly fell over trying to get down, his breathing heavy like a man drowning in shallow water.
“You think you’re slick, huh?” Head said, stepping forward slowly, eyes on me like a hawk. “Something ain’t right about this. No response from the boss, y’all comin’ out lookin’ too calm. I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.”
His hand was firm on the pistol. No twitch, no shake. This wasn’t a man you could bluff. He’d shoot, no questions asked.
Jimmy whimpered, his voice barely a whisper. “We’re dead, Smoke. We’re dead, man.”
“No,” I muttered, eyes locked on Head. “Not yet.”
Head raised an eyebrow, his grin ugly and sharp. “That so? You think you’re in control? You think you still got moves left to play?” He glanced at the guards. “Put ‘em face down. Search ‘em again. I want every pocket emptied.”
They moved forward. That’s when I spoke.
“Ghost. Jack. Midnight,” I said calmly, never looking away from Head. “Smoke this fool.”
For a split second, nothing happened. The guards looked confused, eyes flicking toward each other like they’d misheard something. Head’s face twisted in confusion too, his mouth opening to say something smart.
Then it happened.
Click-clack.
Click-clack.
Click-clack.
Three rifles moved at once, barrels swinging off me, Jimmy, and Charle. They turned, slow but sure, until all three were aimed at the head of security.
“What the hell—” Head’s eyes went wide as saucers. “What are you doin’, fools?! Aim at them! You hear me?!”
The guards didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. The barrels were locked on him like he’d suddenly grown a target on his chest.
His eyes darted from them to me, realization hitting him like a hammer. “You think this changes anything, huh?! You think I’m scared of a little betrayal? You think I ain’t seen this before?!” He laughed, but there was no heart in it. Just rage. Just the sound of a man who knows he’s already dead.
“No hard feelings,” I said, rising slowly from my knees. My eyes met his, and I made sure he saw it—the calm, the certainty. The same calm he’d seen when I stepped through that front door.
Head gritted his teeth, his eyes wild like a cornered animal. “You ain’t gonna make it outta here, Smoke. You know that, right? You think the boss was the only one pullin’ strings? We got eyes everywhere, man. Everywhere!”
“Yeah,” I said, brushing the dirt off my pants. “I’ll deal with them too.”
Bang.
Ghost’s shot hit him first. Clean, straight through the chest.
Bang.
Jack’s bullet went through his throat, blood spraying out like a burst pipe.
Bang.
Midnight’s shot caught him dead in the forehead. His head snapped back like a ragdoll, his body crumpling to the dirt in slow motion. His gun slipped from his hand, bouncing off the ground with a dull thud.
Silence.
The three guards lowered their rifles. Ghost, Jack, and Midnight. Not their real names, but names I gave them when I made them mine. Deals were made weeks ago. Promises kept. Money exchanged. No loyalty in this game. Not unless you buy it.
Jimmy was frozen, mouth hanging open like he forgot how to close it. His pants were wet, a dark stain spreading down his leg. He didn’t even notice.
“You—” he gasped, his voice cracking. “You planned this? You—”
“I said I didn’t trust ‘em,” I replied, walking past him toward the car. I snatched my pistol and knife from the pile the guards had left on the ground. My hands moved slow, steady, no rush. I glanced at Jimmy as I tucked the gun into my waistband. “Trust gets you killed, Jimmy. Thought you’d know that by now.”
Charle finally spoke, his voice calm, clear as water. “Move. We ain’t got long.”
I nodded, heading for the driver’s side. Jimmy still hadn’t moved, still on his knees, looking at me like I was something he didn’t recognize.
“Jimmy,” I said, my voice sharp. “Get up. We’re leavin’.”
He blinked, finally moving like he’d been pulled from a trance. He stumbled forward, wiping his face with shaky hands.
I slid into the driver’s seat, engine rumbling to life beneath me. Charle got in next to me, eyes forward, mind already ahead of the moment. Jimmy climbed into the back, silent now.
As we pulled away, I glanced in the rearview mirror, eyes on the farm shrinking behind us. Ghost, Jack, and Midnight stood there, faces blank, rifles still in hand.
No loyalty In this game.
Not unless you buy it.