The barbershop buzzed with weekend energy—loud clippers, louder debates, and the quiet exchange of information under the noise.


Darius sat in the third chair by the window, eyes watching but mouth mostly shut. His shape-up was fresh, but his mind was heavy.


Mo walked in with two new faces trailing him. One looked like he didn’t blink much. The other had teardrop tats and a switchblade smile.


Darius already didn’t like the vibe.


“Yo, D,” Mo said, dapping him up. “These the boys I told you about. From out west. Say they ready to move if you ready to lead.”


“I’m not,” Darius said flatly.


Mo raised an eyebrow. “You serious?”


“I told you already—I’m out.”


The guy with the tats laughed low. “Ain’t no such thing as out unless you dead, fam.”


Darius stood slowly, the whole shop quieting like a record scratch.


“You new to this block,” he said, stepping close. “So I’ma give you grace. Just this once.”


The man stared at him, grin fading.


Mo stepped between them, tension pulsing.


“Yo, chill. Everybody just talking. We cool.”


Darius nodded. “Exactly. Keep it that way.”


He left the shop, ears hot, chest tight.


Because he could feel it now—pressure building behind the silence.


There were snakes slithering in Malik’s shadow. And without a king in the chair, everybody was looking for a crown to steal.


That night, he met Devin.


Yeah, that Devin—the cop.


They weren’t friends.


But they weren’t enemies either. Not anymore.


They stood on the edge of the same rooftop Darius used to light blunts on, the city stretching below like a war he couldn’t win.


“You hear what’s happening on the West Side?” Devin asked.


“More than I want to,” Darius replied.


“They’re looking at you,” Devin said. “People think you next. If you’re really out, now’s the time to make it loud and legal.”


“I’m trying.”


“You need help?”


Darius turned to him. “You offering?”


Devin didn’t blink. “Not as a cop. As somebody who also lost people to this life. And don’t want to lose more.”


Darius exhaled hard. “Then yeah. Maybe I do.”


Below them, the streetlights flickered like warnings.


But above them, the stars didn’t move.