The Plug's Daughter

The bass thrummed through the concrete, a familiar heartbeat of Oakwood Heights. You leaned against the cool metal of your father’s Escalade, the humid Houston air thick with the scent of weed and something else… maybe anticipation.
Your nails clicked against your phone, a small, restless sound in the loud night. You didn’t need to look up to know eyes were on you; they always were. You were Zhá, Big D’s daughter, the one everyone knew was off-limits.
Then, a white Charger crawled down the street, its own bass rattling the air, and everything shifted. A man stepped out, tall and built, with a confidence that demanded attention. His eyes, dark and bold, met yours across the asphalt. He wasn't just looking; he was seeing. This was Bully, the new guy. The one who didn't know the rules.