Chapter 10: No More Watching

Keisha didn’t move.

Her heel pressed against the curb, right where the sidewalk dipped into the street, and for a second it felt like her body forgot how to do anything else.

She knew this block.

Alabama Avenue. Congress Heights.

Same stretch she’d walked a hundred times without thinking.

That’s what made it worse now.

Nothing looked different.

Rowhouses stacked close together. Iron gates. A corner store with a flickering sign that never quite worked right. A Metrobus stop a few steps down where people usually leaned, talked, waited like time wasn’t pressing them.

Normal.

Everything looked normal.

Except him.

The man stood like he belonged there.

Not out of place.

Not nervous.

Just… present.

Like he’d been there longer than she had. Like he’d been waiting for her to land exactly where she was standing.

“Phone,” he said.

Calm.

Certain.

Keisha tightened her grip around it.

“No.”

Her voice came out low, steady enough to surprise her.

The man tilted his head slightly, studying her like she’d just confirmed something for him.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

A Metrobus groaned down Alabama, brakes hissing as it slowed at the stop. The sound filled the space, loud, familiar.

For a second, it almost grounded her.

Almost made this feel normal.

But the feeling didn’t stick.

Not with him standing there.

“What is this?” she asked. “Who are you?”

No answer.

His eyes shifted past her.

Quick.

Intentional.

Something in her chest tightened.

She turned—

And Malik was already there.

He came off the street fast, cutting across the space between them like he’d already mapped it out.

His hand caught her arm, pulling her back just enough to move her out of the man’s reach.

“Get behind me,” Malik said.

Low.

Controlled.

No panic.

Keisha didn’t argue.

Didn’t question it.

Her body moved before her thoughts could catch up, stepping back toward the bus stop pole, fingers tightening around her phone.

The man stepped back once.

Measured.

Not startled.

Just adjusting.

“I was wondering when you’d show,” he said, eyes locked on Malik now.

Malik didn’t respond right away.

His stance shifted slightly.

Balanced.

Ready.

That kind of ready didn’t come from guessing.

It came from experience.

“You picked the wrong one,” Malik said.

The man gave a faint smile.

“No,” he said. “We picked the right one.”

The words landed heavy.

Keisha felt it instantly.

Not confusion.

Confirmation.

“What does that mean?” she asked, her voice tighter now.

No answer.

Just silence stretching between them.

And that silence said enough.

⸻

Malik’s hand moved to his waist without thinking.

He was already carrying.

He always was when things felt like this.

Cold metal met his grip as he drew it up slow, controlled.

No panic.

Just muscle memory.

Keisha froze.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The sight of it didn’t feel new to him.

That’s what shook her.

Not the gun.

Him.

The man’s eyes dropped briefly to it.

Still no fear.

Just awareness.

“You really want to do this out here?” the man asked, glancing down the block where a couple stood arguing near a parked car, completely unaware of what was about to unfold.

Malik didn’t blink.

“You already did.”

A car door slammed somewhere up the street.

Sharp.

Close enough.

The man’s attention shifted for half a second.

That was all Malik needed.

He stepped in—

Fast.

Closing the distance before the moment could reset.

His shoulder drove forward, knocking the man off balance just enough.

Not to drop him.

Just to disrupt him.

“Move,” Malik said over his shoulder.

Keisha stepped back quick, nearly stepping into the street before catching herself, eyes locked on them, heart pounding.

The man recovered fast.

Too fast.

His hand came up—

A flash of metal.

Blade.

Malik caught his wrist mid-swing.

Grip tight.

Stopping it clean.

For a second, they were locked right there on the sidewalk—between the bus stop sign and the row of brick buildings behind them.

Neither giving.

The city kept moving around them.

Cars passing.

Music playing.

Someone yelling down the block.

And right there in the middle of it—

Everything slowed.

Malik twisted his wrist.

Sharp.

Precise.

The blade dropped, clattering against the pavement.

The sound hit louder than it should have.

The man exhaled, but even then—

Still calm.

Still too calm.

Malik shoved him back hard.

“Who sent you?” Malik asked.

The man straightened slowly, rolling his shoulder like this was routine.

“You already know,” he said.

Malik’s jaw tightened.

“Say it.”

A small smirk.

“They don’t like loose ends.”

That hit.

Not a name.

A warning.

“Malik…” Keisha’s voice cracked slightly now. “What is he talking about?”

Malik didn’t turn.

Didn’t break focus.

“Get in the truck,” he said.

“I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on—”

“Keisha.”

Her name cut through everything.

Firm.

Grounded.

“Now.”

She looked around.

The block felt different.

Not normal anymore.

Like something had shifted underneath it.

She moved.

Fast.

The man glanced toward her as she backed away toward the truck, then looked back at Malik.

“This doesn’t stop here,” he said.

“I know,” Malik replied.

Another pause.

Then the man stepped back.

Once.

Twice.

Then turned and walked off like this was never meant to end here.

Just begin.

⸻

Malik didn’t move until he was gone.

Then he turned.

Keisha stood by the truck, breathing uneven now, hands shaking slightly.

He closed the distance between them.

She looked at him immediately.

“What is happening?” she asked.

This time there was no edge.

Just fear.

Real fear.

Malik held her gaze for a second.

Then opened the passenger door.

“Get in.”

She hesitated—

Then got in.

As the truck pulled off, merging into traffic up Alabama toward MLK, the city kept moving like nothing had changed.

But inside that truck—

Everything had.

Because whatever Malik had tried to leave behind—

Wasn’t watching anymore.

It had stepped into the open.

And it wasn’t done.