We pulled into the warehouse district, the bass vibrating through the metal structure of the building. The plan was solid—drop the bag, get the cash, and vanish. But in this game, nothing ever stayed solid.

Behind us, a black SUV was tailing too closely. I looked at my passenger, Tez, who was already texting someone on a burner phone. "We got company?" he asked, not looking up.

"Yeah," I said, hitting the gas. "They ain't here for the music, that's for sure."

As we grabbed the duffel, the back door of the warehouse slammed open. It wasn't our guy.

We bolted for the side door, the "Cash Trap" energy now in our hearts instead of the speakers. We dove into the rain, the sound of shouting behind us, fading into the night. It was just another day, another story, another hustle. in more detail? Write a "Part 2" focusing on the escape?

The warehouse smelled like rust and old tires. In the center, a single light hung over a table. "Where's the rest of them?" I muttered.

"Don't matter," Tez whispered, taking the heavy duffel bag. "Just take the cash, and let's go."

I stopped the car, and we immediately jumped out, the rain pouring down. The door to the warehouse was slightly ajar. "You ready?" Tez asked, pulling his hoodie up.