Billionaire's Retribution

Chapter 3: Blood in the Yard

The prison yard was a boiling pit under the noon sun. Sweat, curses, and the clang of iron weights filled the air. Men circled like predators, watching one another with eyes that never blinked too long.

Richard kept to himself near the cracked basketball court, ribs still aching from the beating. His swollen eye had begun to heal, but the scar at his brow remained raw.

He leaned against the fence, breathing slow, watching. Survival in here wasn’t just fists. It was observation. Patterns. Weaknesses. “Still breathing, billionaire?”

Richard turned. Stone stood before him, flanked by two men who looked like shadows carved from muscle. Richard wiped sweat from his brow. “You sound surprised.”

Stone smirked. “Most men don’t get up after Cross and Viper get through with them.”

“Cross and Viper?” Richard asked.

“The two in your cell.” Stone chuckled. “They like breaking fresh meat. But you” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not broken.”

Richard straightened, meeting his stare. “I’ve been through worse.”

Stone tilted his head. “Is that so? Because word is, you had everything out there. Cars, mansions, billions. And now? You’ve got nothing. That breaks most men.”

Richard’s voice was quiet, controlled. “I still have something.”

Stone raised a brow. “And what’s that?”

Richard’s lips curved faintly. “Time. And a reason.”

Stone studied him, then laughed, sharp and genuine. “I like you, Williams. You’ve got teeth. But teeth attract wolves.”

As if summoned, Cross and Viper appeared from across the yard, eyes locked on Richard. The brute cracked his knuckles, while the wiry one grinned like a hyena.

“Hey, rich boy,” Viper called. “Didn’t think you’d survive the night. Guess we didn’t hit you hard enough.”

Richard said nothing. Cross stepped closer, towering over him. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or maybe you’re too good to talk to us?”

Richard met his eyes calmly. “You already talked with your fists. And failed.”

Viper snarled. “Failed?” He lunged, shoving Richard hard against the fence.

The yard erupted with cheers. Inmates formed a circle, hungry for blood. Stone crossed his arms, watching.

Richard staggered, but instead of swinging back, he steadied himself and spoke, voice sharp. “You think this makes you strong? Beating a man half-dead? That’s not strength. That’s desperation.”

Cross growled. “You got a big mouth for a man about to bleed.”

Richard’s gaze cut through him. “Strength isn’t fists. It’s control. It’s knowing when to strike, and when to wait.”

The words stirred murmurs in the crowd. Some laughed, others nodded. Viper spat. “You think you’re smarter than us?”

Richard’s lip curled. “I don’t think. I know.”

The wiry man swung. Richard ducked, pain shooting through his ribs, but his mind was sharper than his body. He grabbed Viper’s arm, using his momentum to slam him into the dirt. The yard roared.

Cross charged, rage in his eyes. Richard braced for impact, but Stone’s voice cut through the chaos. “Enough.”

The brute froze mid-step. Stone stepped forward, his authority undisputed. “This one isn’t meat. He’s fire. And you don’t waste fire, you use it.”

Richard straightened, chest heaving, blood trickling from his lip. He held Cross’s stare, unflinching. The brute growled but backed off. Viper staggered up, spitting curses, but Stone’s glare silenced him.

Stone turned to Richard, a grin curling his lips. “You’ve just earned yourself a place in this yard, Williams. But don’t mistake it for safety. Fire burns bright… and it attracts enemies.”

Richard nodded once, voice steady despite the pain. “Then let them come.”

The yard slowly dispersed, the circle of jeering inmates breaking apart. But Richard could feel the shift in the air, the weight of eyes on him. Some filled with curiosity. Others with hunger.

Stone walked beside him, voice low. “You’ve got guts, Williams. But guts alone don’t keep you alive in here.”

Richard’s lip throbbed. “Neither does fear.”

Stone chuckled. “You’ll learn.”

They passed the mess hall, where men slammed trays on tables and barked at one another like wild dogs fighting over scraps. The smell of grease and rot hung heavy.

“You see them?” Stone nodded toward a group of inmates at a corner table. Broad-shouldered, cold-eyed, all bearing the same serpent tattoo across their necks. “That’s Serpent’s crew. Run half the yard. Drugs, favors, protection. Cross and Viper? They answer to him.”

Richard’s gaze lingered. Serpent sat at the center, calm but deadly, eyes like knives. Even from across the room, Richard felt the weight of his stare. “And the other half?” Richard asked.

Stone smirked. “Depends who’s asking. But you” He stopped, pinning Richard with a look. “You don’t want to be asking questions. Questions get you killed.”

Richard’s jaw tightened. “Information keeps me alive.”

Stone studied him a long moment, then laughed softly. “You’re not like the others. Fine. But if you’re going to swim in these waters, you better be ready for sharks.”

That night in the cell, silence pressed heavy. Cross and Viper lay on their bunks, hatred simmering in their eyes. Richard sat on the edge of his mattress, ribs burning with every breath.

Viper’s voice broke the silence. “You think you embarrassed us today. You didn’t. You signed your death note.”

Richard didn’t respond. Cross leaned forward, his shadow stretching across the cell. “Tomorrow, the yard won’t save you.”

Richard finally lifted his head, his bruised face ghostly in the dim light. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “The yard won’t save me. But it won’t save you either.”

The silence that followed was heavier than fists. Days bled together, but whispers spread. The billionaire who stood up to Cross and Viper.

The man who didn’t break. Some inmates watched him with respect. Others with envy. It was in the laundry room where the threat became real.

Richard hauled damp sheets from the rusted machine, the stench of bleach burning his nose. Alone, or so he thought. A shadow moved. Then another. Four men slipped inside, blocking the exits.

Richard set the sheets down, his body tense. The leader stepped forward. A lean figure with a scar carved down his cheek. “Williams,” he drawled. “The boss wants to send a message.”

“Serpent,” Richard guessed.

The scarred man grinned. “Smart. Maybe too smart.”

The others closed in, fists flexing, chains glinting. Richard’s heart pounded, but his mind was cold, sharp. “Tell Serpent,” he said evenly, “if he wants to kill me, he should do it himself.”

The scarred man laughed. “Oh, he will. After we soften you up.”

The first blow came fast. Richard staggered, tasting blood. Another fist hammered his ribs, and he collapsed against the machine. Boots slammed into his side, his back. Pain lit his body like fire.

But as darkness threatened to pull him under, something inside Richard hardened. He thought of Daniella’s mocking smile. Of May’s tiny hands reaching for him. Of the chains clamped around his name.

“No,” he rasped, forcing himself to his knees.

The men sneered. “Stay down.”

Richard spat blood on the floor. “You’ll have to kill me.”

The scarred man’s smile vanished. He raised the chain. And then “Enough!”

The voice boomed through the laundry room. All four men froze. Richard blinked through the haze of blood and pain. Stone stood in the doorway, his presence filling the space. Behind him, two more men flanked like shadows.

“Serpent doesn’t make moves without my say,” Stone growled. “And this one?” His gaze cut to Richard. “He’s under my watch.”

The scarred man bristled. “Serpent won’t like it.”

Stone stepped closer, menace radiating off him. “Then Serpent can take it up with me.”

For a long, tense moment, the room held still. Then the scarred man lowered the chain, spitting on the floor. “This isn’t over, billionaire,” he hissed.

The men slipped out, leaving only silence and the stench of bleach. Richard slumped against the machine, chest heaving.

Stone crouched, meeting his eyes. “You just made yourself the center of a war.”

Richard coughed, pain rattling his chest, but his voice was steady. “Then I’ll win it.”

Stone studied him, then nodded slowly. “Maybe you will. But wars here? They don’t end with victories. They end with bodies.”

The words echoed long after Stone left. Richard sat alone in the laundry room, bruised, bleeding, but unbroken.

For the first time, he realized the truth: prison wasn’t just punishment. It was a battlefield. And he had just stepped onto the front lines.