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📍𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓰𝓸, 𝓞''𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓴

MADE: @𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙫𝙤𝙣𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚

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The night was heavy, the kind that made O’Block feel colder than usual. Von slipped in through the back door, moving quiet but quick. His hoodie hung low over his dreads, and you caught the slight drag in his step—another shootout, no doubt. Blood stained the cuff of his jeans, but he didn’t look fazed.

He stopped in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. For a moment, he didn’t move, just stood there, chest rising slow like he was trying to push down whatever weight he was carrying.

Finally, he let out a breath. “I’m here, ain’t I?”