“Sign it.”The paper slapped onto the metal table with a sharp crack. Bruce’s gaze dropped to the confession form, then slowly lifted to the man standing across from him.“You want me to say I did it?” Bruce asked calmly.The interrogation room was small, cold, and smelled of rust and disinfectant. A single light buzzed overhead.Two officers stood to the side, arms crossed. Across the table sat Harold Kane, his foster father. Harold didn’t meet his eyes.“Bruce,” Harold said stiffly, “this is for the good of the family.”Bruce let out a soft laugh. “The good of the family… or the good of your real son?”Harold’s jaw tightened. “Watch your tone.”From the corner of the room, a young man suddenly stood up.“Brother!” Evan Kane rushed forward, panic written all over his face. “Don’t say it like that. Dad didn’t mean it that way. This is just… just temporary.”Bruce turned to him. “Temporary?” he echoed. “Armed assault. Financial fraud. One man is hospitalized. Do you know how many years

The first scream came at dawn. Bruce jolted awake, heart slamming against his ribs. It wasn’t close, but it wasn’t far either.The sound carried through concrete and iron, raw and desperate, like someone being peeled apart layer by layer. “What the hell…” Bruce muttered.Remain calm. Emotional instability reduces survival probability.Bruce sat up sharply. “You’re calm? Someone’s dying.”Correction. Someone is failing. Bruce swung his legs off the bunk. “Failing what?”The system didn’t answer. The scream cut off abruptly. Silence followed, thick, unnatural silence. Bruce rubbed his arms.The air felt heavier than yesterday, as if the prison itself had exhaled. Footsteps echoed outside his cell. Then a voice. “Cell Forty-Seven.”Bruce looked up. A guard stood there, but something was wrong. His eyes were unfocused. His posture was stiff and unnatural, like a puppet pulled by invisible strings. “You’re being transferred,” the guard said flatly.“Transferred?” Bruce asked. “To where?”T

The prison went quiet. Not the normal kind of quiet, no distant shouts, no clanging metal, no muttered curses. This silence was alert.Bruce felt it the moment he stepped back into the main cellblock. Heads turned. Conversations died mid-sentence.A man dropped his spoon. Another inmate slowly backed away as Bruce passed, eyes wide, palms open as if facing a wild animal. Bruce leaned closer to Tian. “Why is everyone staring?”Tian didn’t slow his pace. “Because your name just circulated.”Bruce frowned. “My name isn’t famous.”“It is now,” Tian said. “Red Status inmates don’t stay anonymous.”A voice echoed from above. “Inmate Bruce Kane.”Bruce looked up. The intercom crackled again. “Report to Yard C. Immediately.”Murmurs erupted. “Yard C?”“That’s not a yard, that’s a slaughter pit.”“Who pissed off the warden this badly?”Bruce exhaled slowly. “That sounds welcoming.”Tian stopped walking. Bruce turned. “You’re not coming?”Tian shook his head. “This one is yours.”Bruce studied

The echoes of Yard C’s destruction had barely faded when a low hum vibrated through the walls of Blackstone Prison. Bruce felt it before he saw it, a ripple in the very air, a subtle warning: they were coming.Tian’s footsteps were soft behind him, yet deliberate. “You’ve drawn attention,” he said. “More than you realize.”Bruce didn’t respond. His eyes scanned the corridor ahead. Every inmate, every guard, every shadow was a potential threat.Every glance felt loaded with hostility. Good, he thought. It makes predicting the next move easier.Suddenly, a scream split the air, sharper than any he had heard before. Bruce spun. A trio of men, all marked with the insignia of the Iron Chain, had cornered a recruit.The youngest screamed for mercy, but it was futile. Bruce stepped forward. “Enough.”The tallest of the three, a man with a jagged scar across his temple, turned. “Red Status Kane,” he said, his tone dripping with curiosity and malice. “Seems the rumors weren’t exaggerating.”“I

The prison never slept. Even in the dead hours before dawn, whispers echoed through the corridors, punctuated by faint metallic clinks and distant shouts.Bruce moved through the shadows of Blackstone Prison, every step measured, every sense alert.Tian followed silently, cane tapping against cracked concrete. “You’ve made your presence undeniable,” he said. “Now the factions are on edge. They’ll act soon.”Bruce’s gaze swept the corridor. The Iron Chain, the lean Yard C fighter, even Nyx, they had rallied quietly behind him, but the prison’s hierarchy was fragile. Any misstep could trigger chaos.He paused. The system pulsed violently.Bonded Life Threat — CriticalDistance: 11 milesLuna. He clenched his fists. They’re moving on her. Now.Miles away, Luna ran through a narrow alley, heart pounding. Two SUVs flanked her path, engines silent, doors sliding open like predators circling their prey.She darted behind a dumpster, trying to think, but instinct screamed that it was useless,