The gangs outside had all gunned up.

He was risking a couple or so of bullets if he walked out there.

The risk of getting caught in the crossfire was too great, a deadly gamble he wasn't willing to take.

Frustration gnawed at him as he fumbled for his phone, attempting to ask Alick if his men were having a gun battle.

But the call wouldn't connect.

Now they were stranded and vulnerable within the confines of the restaurant.

“What now?"

Forrest's voice trembled with unspoken dread, beads of sweat gathering at his temples.

There was no easy answer, no quick escape from the looming danger Camila's grip tightened on Isaac's hand, her own palm slick with sweat as she searched desperately for a way out of the escalating crisis.

Gunfire crescendoed outside, echoing the rising tension within.

"Fuck!!" Forrest's frustration boiled over in a curse. His eyes were flashing all over the place.

Camila's expression too, darkened with each passing moment.

They were running out of time and options. This was a deadly deadlock.

The little hope they clung to started to fade.

If the shooters decided to rush in now, they'd clean them all out.

They had to accept this.

Just when it seemed all but lost, Forrest's phone shattered the tension with its shrill ring.

He glanced at the caller ID with bated breath, relief flooding his features as he recognized the name. It was Willie.

But Alick was on the other end. “Where are you?"

"We're trapped at Aalla." Forrest was tight with tension.