The forest was quiet except for the rhythmic pounding of boots on the dirt path. Cole had chosen a secluded area near a lake, far from prying eyes, as the training ground for their new recruits. The dawn mist hung low, and the sun’s first light streaked through the trees, highlighting the determination in every face around him.Cole stood before the dozen men, Shane, the tallest and most imposing among them, at his side, and surveyed the group. These were Eden’s finest, handpicked for loyalty and skill, but they needed direction, focus, and discipline to match the threat they were about to face.“Listen up!” Cole barked, his voice cutting through the morning air. “You’ve all been trained before, I’m sure. But make no mistake, this isn’t just about strength. This is about strategy, teamwork, and anticipation. Every move you make, every decision, has consequences.”Shane stepped forward. “We’ve followed Eden into hell before. But I get it, Cole. You’re not just giving orders. You’re tea

The next morning Cole was charged to court for murder case.The court was bustling with the usual morning chaos, reporters shuffling papers, families whispering anxiously, guards patrolling the hallways. Cole sat rigid in his chair, hands cuffed, while his lawyer, Mr. Wyatt, shuffled through a folder thick with documents. The tension in the room was palpable; it felt as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.“Your Honor,” Mr. Wyatt began, his voice firm and unwavering, “my client, Cole Brady, has no intention of fleeing the city. He is a law abiding citizen, falsely accused of a crime he did not commit. I respectfully request bail to ensure he can prepare for his defense.”The judge, an older man with a lined face and sharp eyes, adjusted his glasses and peered down at the papers before him. “I understand your argument, Mr. Wyatt, but this is a serious accusation. Murder is not a trivial matter. The evidence suggests that Mr. Brady was present at the scene.”Cole’s jaw tig

Cole woke before the fluorescent lights blinked on, jaw aching from last night’s blows. The world was an echo of pain: the thin mattress beneath him, the metallic taste of blood, the dull throb behind his left eye. He lay there a moment, listening to the cell breathe the quiet curses, the soft snores, the scraping of a chair and let the pain map itself. Pain was information. Pain told him where his body was weak and where it could be hardened.Faint daylight filtered through the narrow slit of a window, painting the bars with bands of gray. He pushed himself up slowly, rolling his shoulders to shake stiffness from muscles that had been used as targets. The men in the cell stirred as the first guard’s boots approached.“Move,” the guard snapped, unlocking the food hatch. The tray slid into place with a clatter: watery porridge, a lump of stale bread. It smelled of boiled metal. Marco The Bull sat at the corner bench like a menace that took up space, cheeks full from last night’s meal.

Inside the prison, tension was no longer a background noise.It was a storm, tightening over every corridor, simmering in the cafeteria, boiling inside the cells. Cole felt it, his men felt it, even the guards looked nervous.Marco and his crew had gone quiet.Too quiet.Knox whispered about overheard conversations in the showers. Jensen picked up on strange glances from rival groups. Tariq noticed men gathering unexpectedly in corners.Something was coming.Cole barely slept always half awake, half-alert, fingers twitching, mind sharp as a razor.“This place is shifting,” Jensen muttered one night. “They’re planning a hit.”Cole sat upright on his bunk. “Let them plan. We plan better.”Knox’s eyes reflected the faint light bulb above. “They want to take you out publicly. Make an example.”Cole nodded slowly. “Then we don’t wait. We stay close. No one moves alone. And if they come… we finish it.”Tariq swallowed hard. “This is going to get bloody.”Cole’s jaw tightened. “Then we bleed

Cole sat on the cold concrete floor of his cell, back against the wall, staring at the dim light flickering above him. His ribs still ached from the last beating two days ago, courtesy of Brick, Scorpio, and Razo, three inmates who enjoyed reminding newcomers that they owned the place.But Cole wasn’t afraid anymore.He was preparing. Planning. Surviving.When the guards called out “Cafeteria!”, he rose with a slow stiffness. Inside these walls, every walk into the open was a gamble. You didn’t know who wanted you dead, who wanted to make an example of you, or who simply wanted to test your limits.Today would be different. He just didn’t know how yet.CAFETERIA MAYHEMThe cafeteria smelled of stale beans and sweat. Trays clattered, inmates shouted, guards stood by pretending they didn’t hear insults or threats unless blood spilled.Cole grabbed his tray and scanned the room…And his instincts screamed:Danger.Incoming.His allies—Reed, Malik, and Jonas—were sitting by the far right