"Yes, sir,” Michael said to the Admin, his voice low, controlled, even though a storm of unease had already begun to rise within him.He knew how things worked here.Right here in prison, whatever the officers said was final. Absolute. There were no negotiations, no appeals, no second chances.He could not contest their words.He could not refuse their orders.And if he ever dared to—The consequences were not just punishment.They were suffering.He swallowed hard, his throat tightening slightly as a memory crept into his mind, uninvited but impossible to ignore.He remembered it.Last week.An inmate had reached his limit. He was fed up with the harsh treatment, fed up with the endless commands, the humiliation, the pain.The jailer had ordered him to move to the yard.Simple. Routine.But that day, the man refused.Michael could still hear his voice clearly.“What are you going to do, huh?” the inmate had challenged, his tone reckless, his eyes burning with defiance.“Beat me?”“El

“Kingston huh?” the jailer said, his voice low, dragging slightly as though he wanted every syllable to sink deep. He pressed his eyes on Micheal, studying him with deliberate interest, taking in every detail of his broken state.Micheal stood still, his shoulders tense, his breath uneven. He could feel that gaze like weight pressing down on him.“We heard a lot about you. I hope you don’t die in here.” the jailer smirked, his lips curling with quiet cruelty as his eyes shifted to Micheal’s cheeks again, noticing the wet trails there.“Tears huh.” he chuckled once more, shaking his head slightly as though amused by something trivial.Micheal swallowed, forcing his face to remain still, but his chest tightened painfully. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Not here. Not now.“You may go.” the jailer said dismissively, already losing interest.For a brief second, Micheal hesitated, as though unsure if he had truly been released. Then, slowly, he turned and walked into the mess hall. Each

“Get me Elijah,” Miller commanded, his tone leaving no room for delay or misunderstanding.The officer standing by the door straightened instantly. “Yes sir!” he saluted sharply before turning and stepping out of the room with urgency.The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a brief silence.Miller exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting toward the screen where Liam still watched.Hearing the order Liam had given him, he understood the weight behind it. This was not just about removing Ferdinand. It was about breaking him.To execute the order and place Ferdinand under absolute control, and at the same time reduce him to mockery in front of those who once feared him, they needed someone different.Not just any inmate.Someone who could stand up to him.Someone who could win.The door opened again.“You asked to see me, sir.”Elijah stepped into the room calmly, his chains giving off a faint metallic sound with each step. His posture was straight despite the cuffs on his hands and legs, hi

“Do you have your green card to visit him?” the clerk at the lobby asked, her voice firm but respectful, carrying the weight of routine yet a subtle softness for the visitors she saw every day.“No… but can I get it now?” Betty asked, her voice small, almost hesitant, yet tinged with a tremor that betrayed how nervous she truly was.The clerk nodded slowly, her eyes softening slightly at the sight of the young woman.There was always a rule in the prison—any visitor who did not have a green card could obtain it immediately, provided they were there to see an inmate. It was a procedure designed to prevent delay, but it rarely felt procedural to the person standing at the counter. For Betty, it felt like stepping across an invisible threshold into a world she had avoided thinking about for far too long.Once the green card was in her hand, she stepped past the security gates, her shoes clicking lightly against the cold, polished floor. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the faint hum o