Meanwhile, across London, Tyler and Jordan arrived at the community football pitch in Harlesden. The small field was crowded with spectators watching a five-a-side match, mostly teens and young adults from the surrounding estates.
"There they are," Jordan said, nodding toward two girls standing near the sideline. "Shaniqua told me they'd be by the benches."
They approached casually, Tyler adjusting his jacket while Jordan practiced his most charming smile. The girls looked up as they neared, recognition dawning on their faces.
"Wagwan," Jordan greeted them, confidence in his stride. "You Shaniqua's girls?"
The taller one nodded, her expression warming. "Yeah, I'm Leila. This is Jade."
Introductions made, they fell into easy conversation, the four of them gradually moving to sit on a nearby bench with a good view of the match. Jordan was in his element, making the girls laugh with stories and observations, while Tyler nodded along, occasionally adding his own comments.
"So you man from Shepherd's Bush?" Jade asked, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. Her eyes sparkled with interest as she leaned closer to Tyler.
"Yeah, White City Estate," Tyler replied with practiced casualness, though pride tinged his voice. The estate carried weight, a reputation that preceded them.
Jordan nodded, stretching his arm across the back of the bench. "Not far from the Westfield. You know it?"
"Course," Leila said, exchanging a glance with Jade that Tyler couldn't quite interpret. "Everyone knows White City."
The conversation flowed easily after that, voices rising and falling against the backdrop of shouts from the football match. Jordan was in his element, storytelling with animated gestures, making the girls laugh with tales of estate life and school antics. Tyler added comments here and there, content to let his more outgoing friend take the lead.
"So how'd you know Shaniqua?" Leila asked, adjusting her position to face Jordan more directly.
"My cousin dates her brother," Jordan explained. "Saw you on her Insta, thought you looked peng."
Leila rolled her eyes but smiled, clearly pleased by the straightforward compliment.
The winter afternoon was fading, the floodlights around the pitch flickering to life as dusk approached. Tyler checked his phone—no messages from Amias yet. He wondered how the studio session was going, if his friend was impressing the right people.
"You man want drinks?" a voice cut through their conversation. "We're heading to the shop."
Tyler looked up to see two guys standing nearby, both wearing dark tracksuits and serious expressions. Something about their stance made him uneasy—the way they were positioned, slightly too close, slightly too attentive.
"Nah, we're good," Jordan answered, his tone friendly but guarded.
The taller of the two nodded slowly, eyes scanning their faces. "You lot not from around here, yeah?"
"Just visiting," Tyler said, feeling the atmosphere shift. He caught Jordan's eye, a silent communication passing between them.
"Visiting who?" the second guy pressed, his voice deceptively casual.
Jade intervened, her voice sharp with annoyance. "They're with us, Kenzo. Back off."
The name registered somewhere in Tyler's memory—Kenzo. He'd heard it before, though he couldn't place where.
"Just asking," Kenzo said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Always good to know who's on the block."
As the two walked away, Tyler noticed three more guys hovering near the edge of the pitch, watching their interaction with undisguised interest.
"Your friends?" Jordan asked Leila, his earlier ease diminishing.
"Not really," she muttered, suddenly fascinated by her fingernails. "Just guys from the estate."
Tyler's phone buzzed—a message from Amias: Oakley's showing my track to everyone. Moving CRAZY
He showed it to Jordan, who nodded appreciatively. "Our boy's about to blow up," he said, loud enough for the girls to hear.
"Your friend makes music?" Jade asked, interest piqued.
"Yeah, he's at a studio session right now," Tyler said, pride evident in his voice.
The football match was winding down, spectators drifting away in groups. Tyler noticed Kenzo and his friends still lingering, occasionally glancing their way.
"We should probably head back soon," he said quietly to Jordan. "Link up with Ami later."
Jordan nodded, checking the time on his phone. "Yeah, just lemme get Leila's snap first."
As Jordan and Leila exchanged information, Tyler stood, stretching. The uneasy feeling hadn't left him. Harlesden wasn't their territory, and while they weren't directly claiming any set, their affiliation to 12Anti marked them in ways they couldn't hide.
"Ready?" he asked Jordan, who was still chatting with Leila.
"Yeah, safe," Jordan replied, standing reluctantly.
They said their goodbyes, promising to link up again soon. As they walked away from the pitch, Tyler sensed movement behind them—footsteps falling into rhythm with theirs.
"Don't look back," Jordan muttered, obviously feeling it too.
They picked up their pace slightly, heading toward the main road where buses and people offered safety in numbers. The footsteps behind them accelerated to match.
"Oi!" a voice called out. "Hold up!"
Tyler and Jordan exchanged glances but kept walking, faster now.
"I said hold up!"
The voice was closer, and Tyler's instincts screamed danger. He turned his head slightly, catching sight of Kenzo and four others following them, their expressions hard.
"Just keep walking," Jordan whispered, his body tense.
They were nearly at the main road when a figure stepped out from an alleyway directly in their path—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar across his right cheek. The sight of him froze Tyler's blood.
Jordan grabbed Tyler's arm, trying to steer them around, but the man moved to block their path.
"Wagwan, broskis?" the scarred man said, his voice deceptively light. "Bit rude to ignore man like that."
"We're just leaving," Jordan said, his voice steady despite the fear Tyler could feel radiating from him.
"Leaving?" The man's eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "But we ain't even been introduced yet."
The footsteps behind them stopped. Tyler glanced back to see they were surrounded—Kenzo and his friends forming a loose circle, cutting off any escape route.
"Ay, listen," the scarred man continued, his tone friendly but his eyes cold. "I heard you talking back there. Something about your bredrin Amias?"
The name hit Tyler like a physical blow. How did this man know Amias? And why was he asking about him?
"What about him?" Jordan asked cautiously.
The scarred man's smile widened, revealing a gold tooth. "Wanted to link with him, you get me? Business opportunity."
Tyler exchanged a quick glance with Jordan, warning in his eyes. Something was very wrong.
"He's not here," Tyler said, trying to keep his voice steady. "We can pass on a message if you want."
The man studied them for a moment, then turned to one of his companions. "These Amias' bredrins for real?"
The other man nodded. "Seen them together bare times."
From behind them, Tyler heard a whispered exchange: "I thought they said he would be here."
"Nah, she said he was having a studio session—he's probably there."
The scarred man turned back to them, his demeanor shifting. "How much you think your bredrin's weighing these days?"
"What?" Tyler asked, confusion momentarily overriding his fear.
"How much weight he moving? I'm looking to buy some off him."
Tyler hesitated, alarm bells ringing in his head. This wasn't right—you didn't approach someone's friends in the street to set up a deal. That wasn't how it worked.
"Don't know what you're talking about," Jordan said firmly.
The scarred man's smile disappeared. "Don't waste my time, fam. I know what he's about."
Tyler and Jordan exchanged another glance, calculating their options. The main road was tantalizingly close, just thirty meters away.
"Look," Tyler started, "we don't—"
He never finished the sentence. Without warning, the scarred man lunged forward, his fist connecting with Tyler's face with sickening force. Pain exploded across his nose and cheekbone, blood instantly flooding his mouth. He staggered backward, vision blurring, barely registering the sound of the shocked giggles of girls from somewhere behind him.
"What the fuck!" Jordan shouted, instinctively stepping forward before freezing as the scarred man pulled something from his waistband—the dull glint of metal catching the streetlight.
A blade.
"You know me, right?" the scarred man asked, his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
Tyler struggled to his feet, hand pressed to his bleeding nose. "No," he managed, the word distorted by pain and blood.
"No?" the man looked genuinely surprised. "You ain't ever heard of MGZ, bro?"
The name hit Tyler like a second punch. MGZ. The initials were infamous in certain circles...
He saw Jordan's face go pale, the same realization dawning.
"Wait," Jordan said, hands raised placatingly. "We don't want trouble."
MGZ laughed, a sound without humor. "Bit late for that, innit? You see, I know your bredrin Amias. We go way back."
Tyler's mind raced, connecting dots he'd never seen before.
"You know what your boy's been doing?" MGZ continued, twirling the knife casually. "Running like he's the big man now. I ignored it when he had man watching my moves, even when he sent people to look through my yard. But you see when man mess with my P's? That's when it gets serious."
Jordan shook his head. "We don't know anything about that."
"One of your bredrin's runners took bags off one of mine," MGZ snarled, all pretense of friendliness gone. "That's five hundred P's out my pocket. And now? I want reimbursement."
"We can tell him," Tyler said quickly, blood still streaming from his nose. "We'll tell him to sort it."
"Nah, it's too late for that," MGZ replied. "Man's thinking I'm weak out here. So now I want five times it. Two thousand five hundred. Simple."
"Twenty-five hundred?" Tyler blurted, incredulous through the pain. "Are you mad?"
The words left his mouth before he could stop them. MGZ's eyes narrowed dangerously, his grip tightening on the knife.
"What, bro?" he asked, voice dropping to a whisper. "You talking back?"
"Chill, Tyler," Jordan said urgently. "Just chill."
But Tyler's fear had crystallized into something else—a burning anger that pushed through the pain. "Hell no," he spat, blood spraying from his lips. "You can't just—"
MGZ lunged forward, knife slashing through the air where Tyler's face had been a split second before. Tyler jerked backward, survival instinct kicking in.
"Run!" Jordan shouted, already pivoting away.
Tyler didn't need to be told twice. He bolted, feet pounding on the pavement, heart hammering against his ribs. Behind him, he heard shouts and pursuing footsteps.
They sprinted down the street, Jordan slightly ahead. Tyler's shoulder slammed into a wall as he rounded a corner too tightly, pain lancing through his arm, but he kept moving. A taxi honked as they darted across the road, forcing an oncoming car to screech to a halt. The driver's curses followed them as they swerved around the vehicle.
"This way!" Jordan gasped, veering into a narrow alley.
Tyler followed, lungs burning, the taste of blood metallic in his mouth. The alley opened onto a busier street—people, shops, safety. They burst out into the crowd, immediately slowing to a fast walk, trying to blend in despite their ragged breathing and Tyler's bloody face.
"Are they still following?" Tyler panted, not daring to look back.
Jordan risked a glance over his shoulder. "Don't see them."
They kept moving, weaving through shoppers and commuters, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and MGZ. Only when they were three streets away, in a busy McDonald's, did they finally stop.
"Your face," Jordan said, handing Tyler a wad of napkins. "It's a mess."
Tyler pressed the napkins to his nose, wincing. "Is it broken?"
"Don't think so. Just bleeding a lot."
They sat in silence for a moment, the adrenaline slowly ebbing, leaving them shaky and exhausted.
"MGZ," Tyler finally said, the name heavy with implication. "That was him, wasn't it? The one who..."
Jordan nodded grimly. "Has to be. And he knows Amias."
"It wasn't random," Tyler realized. "They knew who we were."
Jordan's expression darkened. "Yeah."
Before Tyler could respond, a shout from outside the window made them both flinch. MGZ stood on the opposite side of the street, too far to reach them but close enough for his voice to carry.
"I better see my two-five by Saturday, fam!" he called out, the threat clear even through the glass and street noise. "Or I'm coming for all of you!"
He held their gaze for one more moment, then melted into the crowd, leaving Tyler and Jordan staring at each other, the weight of his words hanging between them.
"We need to call Amias," Tyler said, reaching for his phone with bloodstained fingers. "Now."