In a cold, gray prison yard, a group of men set their sights on their newest target, a quiet, unassuming black inmate whose steady gaze and solitary demeanor mark him as prey. To them, he’s just another victim, a man stripped of his freedom and his dignity, too broken by the system to fight back. But appearances can be deceiving.

The man they plan to break is no ordinary inmate. Once the most feared Delta Force commander in the military, he led covert missions into enemy territory that others wouldn’t dare attempt. His hands carry the weight of countless kills, each one a calculated decision made in the name of duty.

Framed for a crime he didn’t commit, he is now a pawn in a larger game, and the gang has been hired to ensure he doesn’t survive long enough to uncover the truth. Their first mistake was assuming he’s an easy target. Their second was forcing him to respond.

As the gang escalates their threats, the fragile balance of the prison begins to shift, setting the stage for a confrontation that will ripple far beyond its walls. This isn’t just a fight for survival, it’s a reckoning that will expose the corruption running through the veins of the system, and remind everyone that even in the darkest places, there are men who refuse to be broken.

The clang of the cell door reverberated through the block, a sharp reminder of the reality Leon Shadow Carter now faced. Inside the dimly lit space, he stood motionless, his imposing frame nearly filling the small room. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned his surroundings.

The walls stained with years of neglect, the lingering scent of sweat and despair in the air. It was a far cry from the precision and discipline of his Delta Force days. He took a deep breath, his mind pulling him back to the mission that had defined his career.

In the deserts of Afghanistan, they’d called him the Shadow, a man who moved unseen, struck with precision, and left no trace. His comrades had trusted him with their lives. Now, here he was, betrayed by a country he had sworn to protect, framed for a crime he didn’t commit.

Leon sat on the edge of the metal cot, the thin mattress creaking beneath his weight. His fingers grazed the cold steel of the bed frame as he thought of his family. His mother’s proud smile when he returned home in uniform, the folded flag from his father’s military funeral, still tucked away in a box, he’d never had the heart to open.

Those memories were his anchor, but the weight of the current moment pressed heavily on him. Through the small, reinforced window on the cell door, he could see the other inmates moving through the block. Tattoos marked alliances, body language revealed intent.

The lines between predator and prey were clearly drawn, and Leon knew where he stood. A target. Whispers had already reached him.

The Iron Fangs, the self-proclaimed rulers of the Yard, had taken an interest. He didn’t know why yet, but he knew it wasn’t good. Their stares during meal breaks, the subtle gestures in his direction, all spoke of violence simmering just beneath the surface.

Leon clenched his fists, his knuckles white. I’ve faced worse, he muttered to himself, the words barely audible. But even as he reassured himself, the question gnawed at him.

How long could he last here before his enemies struck? The door’s observation panel slid open, and a guard’s indifferent face appeared. Visitor, the guard said. Leon rose, his mind already shifting gears.

It had to be Jessica. Maybe she had answers. Maybe she had hope.

Or maybe this visit would only deepen the mystery surrounding the betrayal that had brought him here. Leon sat in the visitation room, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, as he stared at the glass separating him from Jessica Green. She was a lifeline, the one person on the outside fighting to clear his name.

But as her sharp eyes studied him, he knew she could see the cracks. He wasn’t the unshakable Delta Force commander she might have imagined. Not here.

Not now. Jessica leaned forward, her voice low but urgent. Leon, I’ve been pulling every string I can find.

The case against you is full of holes, but it’s going to take time to expose them. Until then, you have to stay safe. Leon’s jaw tightened, his hand resting against the cool steel table.

Safe? You don’t know what it’s like in here, Jessica. Every corner I turn, every breath I take. I feel it.

This isn’t like a battlefield where you know who the enemy is. Here. They’re everywhere.

Jessica frowned, her pen frozen over the notepad in her lap. The iron fangs? They’re watching me, Leon admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. Sizing me up? It’s only a matter of time before they make their move.

His gaze faltered for a moment, his composure slipping. I’ve seen what they do to men in here, Jessica, and I don’t know if I’m ready for it. Her expression softened, the usual sharp edge of her determination giving way to genuine concern.

Leon, you’ve faced worse than these thugs. You’ve led missions that no one else would even dream of taking. You’re one of the strongest men I’ve ever met.

Out there, I had a team. I had control. His voice wavered slightly, and he clenched his fists.

In here, I’m alone. I’ve seen men break in this place. Strong men.

I can’t let that happen to me. Jessica’s hand hovered over the glass, an unspoken gesture of support. You won’t break.

I know you won’t, but you have to promise me something. If they come for you, you fight. Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you afraid.

Leon’s eyes met hers, the fear giving way to a flicker of resolve. I’m trying, Jessica, but this place, it’s a different kind of war. There’s no honor here, no rules.

Jessica nodded slowly. I know it’s not fair. I know this isn’t where you’re supposed to be, but you have to hold on.

The truth is out there, and I’ll find it. You didn’t sabotage that pipeline, Leon, and we’re going to prove it. He exhaled sharply, the weight of her words both comforting and suffocating.

They framed me for a reason. Someone powerful wanted me out of the picture, and they’re not going to stop. The iron fangs? They’re just the start.

Jessica leaned back, her gaze steely. I’m already digging. The evidence they used against you, it doesn’t add up.

I’ve found discrepancies in the witness statements, missing files, and the warden? She paused, her voice dropping. He’s not clean. There’s money moving through his accounts that shouldn’t be there.

Leon raised an eyebrow. You think the warden’s involved? I’m not sure yet, but someone in this prison is keeping an eye on you, and not just the gang, Jessica replied. If I can find the connection, I can blow this wide open, but you need to give me time.

The door behind Leon creaked open, and the guard stepped inside. Time’s up, the guard said gruffly. Jessica’s voice softened.

Leon, listen to me. You’re not alone in this. I’m with you every step of the way.

Stay strong. Fight back if you have to, but don’t lose yourself in here. He stood slowly, towering over the table as he prepared to leave.

Before turning, he met her gaze one last time. Just promise me you’ll find out who did this. I need to know why they chose me, why they wanted me gone.

Jessica gave him a firm nod. I will. I won’t stop until I get answers.

And Leon, you’ve got more strength than anyone in this place. Don’t let them forget that. As Leon walked back toward his cell, her words echoed in his mind.

Strength. Fight. Survive.

But even as he tried to hold on to those ideas, the truth gnawed at him. This place was wearing him down, piece by piece, and the iron fangs were circling, waiting for the moment he’d slip. The mess hall was alive with the chaotic noise of clattering trays, muffled conversations, and occasional bursts of laughter that didn’t reach Leon.

He sat alone at one of the worn metal tables, his back instinctively to the wall, his sharp eyes scanning the room. It wasn’t paranoia. It was survival.

The iron fangs were there, scattered across several tables, their presence dominating the room like a pack of wolves staking their claim. Their tattoos, a mix of snarling beasts and crude symbols, marked them as predators. Leon knew better than to underestimate them.

Their leader, Blaze Hensley, sat at the center, leaning back in his chair. A smug grin plastered across his face as he scanned the room. Leon focused on the tray in front of him.

Overcooked pasta, something resembling bread and watery beans. He ate slowly, forcing each bite down as his instincts screamed at him to stay alert. Every movement, every sound was cataloged in his mind.

Hey, Carter! The sharp voice cut through the din, and the room seemed to quiet slightly. Leon didn’t look up immediately. He knew better than to give them the satisfaction.

But when the voice came again, closer this time, he raised his head. Blaze was standing a few feet away, his gang flanking him like hyenas circling prey. What’s the matter, soldier boy? Food not up to your standards? Blaze sneered, loud enough for others to hear.

Leon met his gaze, his expression calm but unyielding. Just trying to get through my meal in peace. Blaze laughed, a sound that was more threatening than humorous.

Peace? You think there’s peace in here? He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table as his gang closed in behind him. You’re in the jungle now, Carter. And in the jungle, the weak get eaten alive.

Leon didn’t flinch, but his hands subtly tightened on the edge of the tray. If that’s supposed to scare me, you’re going to have to try harder. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension thick enough to choke on….

Blaze’s smirk faltered for a split second before returning, sharper this time. He straightened, motioning to one of his men, a wiry guy with a crooked nose who stepped forward. You hear that, boys? Carter thinks he’s tough.

Let’s see how tough he is. Crooked nose reached out, snatching the bread off Leon’s tray and taking a dramatic bite. Ain’t bad, huh? The gang laughed, the sound echoing through the hall like a taunt.

Leon’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t move. He kept his gaze locked on Blaze. Blaze tilted his head, his voice dropping to something more venomous.

You know what I see when I look at you? A man who doesn’t belong here, a man who thinks he’s better than the rest of us. He spat the words out, his tone dripping with disdain. But you’re not better, Carter.

You’re just another piece of trash they tossed in here to rot. The words hit harder than Leon expected, stirring the lingering doubts and fears he’d been trying to suppress. For a moment, he felt the room closing in, the eyes of everyone watching, waiting for him to break.

You’ve got it wrong, Leon said finally, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. I’m not here to rot. And I’m not afraid of you.

Blaze’s smirk widened, but there was something darker in his eyes now. Something dangerous. Oh, you will be.

Give it time. The gang laughed again, their voices grating like nails on a chalkboard. Blaze took a step back, his gaze never leaving Leon.

Enjoy your meal, soldier boy, while you can. They moved away, their laughter and jeers lingering in the air. Leon exhaled slowly, his grip on the tray loosening.

He could feel the eyes of the other inmates on him, some curious, others pitying. A few amused, but he didn’t care about their opinions. He cared about survival.

He forced himself to finish his meal, each bite a deliberate act of defiance. He wouldn’t let them see fear, even if he felt it creeping up his spine. As he left the mess hall, he could feel their eyes following him, their laughter echoing in his ears.

Blaze’s words repeated in his mind, each one like a poison he couldn’t shake. Give it time. Leon knew time wasn’t on his side.

The Iron Fangs weren’t just testing him anymore, they were making their move. And in this jungle, he’d have to rely on every ounce of his training to survive. The fluorescent lights in the prison hallways flickered as Leon made his way back to his cell, the mess hall’s lingering tension still heavy in the air.

He walked with purpose, keeping his head forward and his stride steady, but his senses were tuned to every sound behind him. Footsteps echoed faintly, barely audible above the din of the prison. He knew they were coming.

As he reached the cell block, the air seemed heavier, colder. The usual noise of inmates shouting or laughing from their cells was muted, replaced by a quiet anticipation. Leon’s eyes swept the area, cataloging faces peering through bars, eyes watching him with a mix of curiosity and unease.

They knew something he didn’t. The ambush came fast. A sharp sound, a muffled thud of boots on the concrete floor, was his only warning before a wiry figure lunged at him from the shadows.

Leon pivoted instinctively, deflecting the attack with a forearm. The impact jarred his arm, but his training took over, every movement precise and efficient. The first assailant, a lanky man with tattoos snaking up his neck, staggered back, but two more rushed in.

One went low, aiming to tackle Leon, while the other swung a sharpened toothbrush aimed at his side. Leon twisted, the makeshift weapon grazing his ribs but failing to connect. With a brutal elbow, he knocked the second man off balance, sending him crashing into the wall.

The third assailant managed to grab him from behind, locking thick arms around his chest, but Leon shifted his weight, slamming the man backward into the nearest cell bars. The clang echoed through the block, a sharp metallic scream that drew more attention from the onlookers. Come on, soldier boy, a voice snarled.

Blaze stepped into view, his smirk replaced with a cruel grin. Let’s see if all that military training can save you now. The gang swarmed him.

Leon’s fists flew, every strike calculated, every movement designed to conserve energy. A solid punch to one attacker’s jaw sent him sprawling, but another came at him with a shiv, slicing dangerously close to Leon’s arm. The blade nicked him, drawing a thin line of blood.

Leon didn’t flinch. Pain was nothing new. You think you’re untouchable? Blaze taunted, standing back while his men did the dirty work.

You’re nothing in here, just another dog waiting to be put down. Leon didn’t answer. Words wouldn’t matter to men like this.

Instead, he grabbed a chair left outside one of the cells and swung it with force, scattering the men like bowling pins. The sound of the impact reverberated, silencing the block. For a moment, it seemed over.

The attackers lay groaning on the floor, their bravado shattered. But Blaze stepped forward, slow and deliberate, cracking his knuckles. You think that’s it? Blaze sneered.

This ain’t over, Carter. Not by a long shot. Before Leon could respond, the sharp whistle of a guard’s baton cut through the air.

Break it up! A guard stormed into the scene, his baton raised as he glared at the group. Leon didn’t miss the brief glance the guard exchanged with Blaze, a flicker of something unspoken. You, the guard barked at Leon, pointing the baton at him, back to your cell.

Now, Leon wiped the blood from his arm with the back of his hand, his breathing heavy but controlled. He didn’t argue. Turning his back on Blaze, he started toward his cell, but he could feel the gang leader’s eyes boring into him, his smirk a promise of more to come.

As he reached the threshold of his cell, Blaze’s voice echoed behind him. We’re just getting started, soldier boy. Sleep with one eye open.

Leon stepped inside, the cold steel door slamming shut behind him, his hands braced against the wall, the adrenaline beginning to ebb. He glanced at the thin cut on his arm, then at the pale reflection of himself in the small mirror above the sink. For the first time in years, he felt something unfamiliar.

Vulnerability. This wasn’t the battlefield he was trained for. Out there, he had his team, his weapons, a mission.

In here, he had nothing but his instincts and the ghosts of what he used to be. And men like Blaze weren’t going to stop until he was broken or dead. Leon took a deep breath, pushing the fear aside.

He couldn’t afford to let it consume him. Not here, not now. In the distance, he could still hear Blaze’s laughter, faint but haunting.

The fight was over, but the war had just begun. The dim glow of the corridor lights seeped through the narrow slot in Leon’s cell door, casting faint, distorted shadows on the cold, cracked walls. He lay on the thin mattress, his body still tense from the earlier fight.

The cut on his arm throbbed faintly, but the pain wasn’t what kept him awake. It was the voices. The iron fangs were loud tonight, their taunts carrying through the silence like a cruel lullaby.

Better keep one eye open, soldier boy, one sneered from down the hall. The voice was sharp, grating, designed to crawl under his skin. Another voice chimed in, dripping with malice.

Don’t matter how tough you are, Carter. You bleed just like the rest of us. Laughter echoed, bouncing off the walls in waves.

They were relentless, testing him even now, when the bars separated them. Leon turned onto his side, staring at the wall, his muscles coiled tight. Their words weren’t just noise.

They were a promise. He’d seen men in here crumble under less. Every taunt was a reminder that he wasn’t invincible.

His mind drifted back to the attack. The speed of it. The raw violence.

The way Blaze had hung back, letting his men take the first swing while he watched like a predator toying with its prey. They hadn’t even been trying to kill him. Not yet.

It was a test. A warning. The real storm was still coming.

Leon’s breath came slow and steady, but his chest felt heavy. This wasn’t the battlefield he knew. There were no clear objectives.

No comrades to cover his six. In the military, he’d been the shadow. A name whispered with respect.

Even fear. But here? He was just another target. Another voice pierced the quiet.

How’s it feel, war hero? Being locked up with the scum you thought you were better than? Leon’s jaw tightened. The words stung more than he cared to admit. He closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to steady.

But even in the silence of his mind, the voices followed. His own thoughts betrayed him. Whispering fears he tried to bury.

What if Jessica couldn’t clear his name? What if he didn’t survive long enough to get out? What if the Iron Fangs made good on their threats? No. He couldn’t think like that. He wouldn’t.

Leon sat up abruptly, the mattress creaking beneath him. His hands ran over his face, rough with stubble, before dropping to his lap. His heart beat heavily in his chest, but his mind clung to a single thread.

He had to stay strong. Getting out of this prison wasn’t just about survival. It was about justice.

The people who framed him thought they could bury him here, silence him forever. They didn’t realize they’d put him in a place where his instincts, his training, would keep him alive. Leaning back against the wall, Leon let his eyes roam over the small, cramped cell.

He studied every detail. The scuffs on the floor, the peeling paint, the faint graffiti carved into the metal bed frame. This was his battleground now.

His gaze landed on the narrow window high above the cell, its dirty glass offering only a sliver of the night sky. The faintest glimmer of stars peeked through, a cruel reminder of the world outside, a world he needed to return to. He thought of his mother’s face, the way her hands trembled when she hugged him before the trial, the tears she tried to hide when the guilty verdict was read.

He thought of Jessica, her sharp determination, her promise to uncover the truth. They were counting on him to survive, to hold on long enough for justice to find him. Another voice from the cells broke the stillness, Carter.

Times running out, Leon exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the bed frame until his knuckles turned white. Fear coiled in his stomach, but he didn’t let it show. He couldn’t afford to.

The men taunting him, the ones circling like sharks. They wanted to see him break. Not tonight.

Not ever. He forced himself to lie back down, his head resting on the thin pillow. The voices continued, a relentless tide of hatred and malice.

But he let them fade into the background. His focus turned inward, his thoughts sharpening like the edge of a blade. The iron fangs wanted him afraid.

They wanted him broken before they struck again. But Leon wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. As his breathing steadied and his eyes drifted closed, he made a silent vow.

He would survive this place. He would outlast the threats, the violence, the fear. And when the time came, he would expose the truth about the iron fangs, about the warden, about the people who thought they could destroy him.

Leon Carter wasn’t a man to be underestimated. And if the voices in the dark thought otherwise, they would learn soon enough. The next morning, Leon sat in the visitation room, his broad shoulders slumped slightly…

As the tension of the last few nights weighed heavily on him, the pale fluorescent lights above cast a harsh glow, reflecting off the scratched plexiglass that separated him from Jessica Green. Her sharp, determined eyes locked onto his, but the look in his own was harder to read. Strained, distant, shadowed by fear, he wouldn’t admit aloud.

Jessica adjusted her glasses and leaned closer to the small metal speaker built into the table. Leon, she began, her voice steady but brimming with urgency. I’ve got some good news.

His eyebrows lifted slightly, but the guarded expression on his face didn’t shift. Good news, he echoed, his voice low and rough, tinged with exhaustion. She nodded.

I’ve found a way to fast-track your appeal. The discrepancies in the evidence, the missing files, it’s too much for the judge to ignore. If all goes well, I think I can get you out of here in a week.

For a moment, her words hung in the air like a lifeline tossed to a drowning man. Leon wanted to reach for it, to let hope take root, but as quickly as the feeling came, it was smothered by the cold, relentless reality of where he was, a week. He said quietly, almost to himself.

He leaned back in his chair, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. Jessica, I don’t know if I can make it another week in this place. Her expression faltered, the resolve in her eyes softening.

Leon, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. You’ve survived things most people can’t even imagine. You can make it.

He shook his head, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. This isn’t the battlefield, Jessica. Out there, I had my team, my weapons, a mission.

In here, he paused, his hand gesturing to the walls around them. In here, it’s just me. And every second, every minute, I’m waiting for the next hit to come.

They’re not going to stop until they break me. Jessica’s lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers tightening around the notepad in her lap. The iron fangs? He nodded grimly.

They came at me last night. It wasn’t a full assault. It was a warning.

Blaze made sure I knew what’s coming. And the worst part? They’re enjoying this. The taunts, the games, they know I’m a target.

And it’s only a matter of time before they finish the job. Jessica leaned forward, her tone shifting from empathetic to resolute. Listen to me, Leon.

I know it’s hell in here, but you’re stronger than them. You’ve faced worse, and you’ve come out the other side. You just have to hold on a little longer.

I’m working around the clock to get you out. Leon’s gaze dropped to the table, his hands clasped tightly together. And what happens if they get to me before then? What if all this work you’re doing is for nothing because I didn’t make it to the end? His voice cracked slightly, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through.

Jessica hesitated, searching for the right words. That’s not going to happen, she said firmly, though even she couldn’t hide the flicker of doubt in her eyes. I’ll figure something out.

Maybe I can push for you to be moved to Solitary for protection, or get the Warden to put you in a safer block. Leon let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. The Warden doesn’t care, Jessica.

If anything, I think he’s part of the reason I’m in here in the first place. Solitary just makes it easier for them to get to me without anyone noticing. Her shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of his words hitting her.

Then you have to stay vigilant. Keep your head down. Don’t engage unless you absolutely have to.

You just need to last one more week. Leon met her gaze, his eyes filled with something between frustration and desperation. You say that like it’s easy.

Every time I close my eyes, I hear them. Every step I take, I feel them watching. They’re waiting, Jessica, waiting for me to slip.

And I’m… He stopped himself, swallowing hard. You’re what? She pressed gently. I’m tired, he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

I don’t know how much more I can take. Jessica’s expression softened, and she pressed her palm against the plexiglass, as though trying to reach him. Leon, I need you to dig deep.

For your mother. For yourself. You’re not just fighting for survival.

You’re fighting for justice. For your name. Don’t let them take that from you.

He exhaled slowly, her words sinking in. I’ll try. That’s all I can promise right now.

I’ll try. The guard appeared at the door, signaling the end of their visit. Jessica stood, gathering her things quickly.

I’ll be back in a couple of days with updates. Stay sharp, Leon. You’re not alone in this.

Leon rose, towering over the table as he gave her a small nod. Thanks, Jessica. For everything.

As she left, the weight of her promise hung heavily in the air. A week. Seven days.

It felt like an eternity. As Leon walked back to his cell, the faint laughter of the iron fangs echoed from somewhere down the corridor, a haunting reminder of the danger that loomed over every moment. He didn’t know if he could survive another week, but he’d have to try.

The cell was quiet, the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, the only constant sound. Leon sat on the edge of his thin mattress, staring at the concrete wall in front of him. Jessica’s words lingered in his mind.

You just need to last one more week. But here, a week was a lifetime. A week meant enduring more threats, more taunts, and possibly another attack.

He couldn’t just sit and wait. He needed to act. Leon’s hands rested on his knees, his fingers twitching as he thought.

His training had always been about preparation, anticipating the enemy’s moves and staying one step ahead. And while he didn’t have his gear or his team, he still had his instincts. Those instincts had kept him alive in deserts, jungles, and urban war zones.

They’d have to work here, too. He rose from the bed and began to scan his small cell with fresh eyes. Every crack, every corner, every piece of his limited possessions was suddenly a resource.

His gaze landed on the handle of his toothbrush. It wasn’t much, but with a little effort, it could become something. He snapped the bristles off and began to grind the plastic end against the rough concrete floor.

The repetitive motion was grounding, giving his restless hands something to do while his mind calculated. It wasn’t just about having a weapon. It was about sending a message.

If the iron fangs came for him again, they needed to know he wouldn’t go down without a fight. The next day, during the brief free time in the yard, Leon moved with purpose. The open space was a dangerous place, filled with watchful eyes and simmering tensions.

The iron fangs stayed in their usual spot. Blaze’s presence, unmistakable, as he laughed with his gang, clearly enjoying the attention his dominance brought. Leon kept his distance, moving toward the far corner of the yard, where a cluster of older inmates lingered.

They weren’t part of any gang, just men who had learned how to survive by keeping their heads down and staying out of the way. He approached a wiry man with gray streaks in his beard, who went by the name Mack. Mack was known for his connections, a man who could get things done without drawing too much attention.

Mack, Leon said quietly. Nodding in greeting, the older man glanced up, his sharp eyes studying Leon for a moment before he spoke. You’re the one the fangs have their eyes on, Leon nodded, his voice low.

I need some help. Something to even the odds, Mack chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. Evening the odds in this place is a tall order.

What are you after, Leon hesitated, his mind racing. Metal, glass, something sharp, anything you’ve got, Mack raised an eyebrow. You planning to take on Blaze’s crew by yourself? Not planning on it, Leon replied, but I’m not planning on letting them take me out either.

The older man’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of respect crossing his face. You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that, but guts don’t count for much if you don’t know the game. You bring heat on yourself, you bring heat on everyone.

Keep that in mind, Leon nodded. I’m not looking to start a war, just to survive. Mack considered him for a long moment before finally sighing.

I’ll see what I can do, but it won’t come cheap. I’ve got a couple of commissary items I can trade, Leon said. Cigarettes, maybe some instant coffee.

Mack’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. That’ll do. I’ll have something for you by tomorrow.

Back in his cell, Leon resumed his preparations. The toothbrush shiv was coming together. The plastic now honed to a sharp point.

He wrapped a strip of cloth from his pillowcase around the handle to make it easier to grip. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. He thought about Jessica’s promise, about the glimmer of hope she’d offered.

A week. He could almost hear the iron fangs laughing at the thought. To them, a week was more than enough time to finish him off.

Leon’s mind shifted to his military days, the lessons drilled into him by years of training. He remembered his commanding officer’s words during survival drills. Control what you can.

Adapt to what you can’t. He couldn’t control the iron fangs, but he could control his response. He couldn’t rely on the guards to protect him, but he could make himself harder to target.

As the lights dimmed for the night, signaling lockdown, Leon sat on the edge of his bed, his weapon hidden under the mattress. He could hear the distant murmurs of the other inmates, the occasional shout or laugh echoing through the block. And then, as expected, the voices started.

Carter! Blaze’s voice rang out from down the corridor, loud and mocking. Hope you’re sleeping well, soldier boy. You’re gonna need your rest, laughter followed.

Harsh and cruel, Leon didn’t respond. He sat still, his fists clenched, his mind focused. He couldn’t let their words get to him.

Not now. Not when he was so close to the edge. Tomorrow, he’d have what he needed.

Tomorrow, he’d be one step closer to surviving the week. But tonight, as the threats continued to echo through the dark, Leon could only grit his teeth and remind himself. Just one more day.

Just one more fight. The next day, the sun beat down on the yard, casting long shadows across the cracked concrete. Leon stood near the far corner, his back against the chain-link fence…

The warmth of the sun on his skin was a faint reminder of life outside these walls. But the weight of the stairs around him quickly brought him back to reality. The iron fangs were moving.

Leon had been watching them for the past twenty minutes. Blaze and his crew weren’t subtle, their movements deliberate as they prowled the yard, keeping him in their line of sight. The gang spread out, creating a net that slowly tightened as they closed in on him.

It was a calculated maneuver, designed to make him feel trapped. Blaze was the last to approach, his steps slow and purposeful, his smirk etched with cruel confidence. The gang fell in behind him, their tattoos gleaming with sweat, their sneers full of malice.

The yard had grown quieter as other inmates turned their attention toward the unfolding scene. No one dared intervene, but all eyes were on Leon. Blaze stopped a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he studied Leon.

Carter, he said, dragging out the name like it was a joke. I gotta hand it to you. You’ve got guts, standing out here like nothing’s coming.

Leon’s gaze was steady, his posture calm but ready. I’m not looking for trouble, Blaze chuckled, a low, menacing sound. Oh, but trouble’s looking for you, soldier boy.

You see, there’s a balance in this place. Everyone knows their place, except you. You’ve been walking around like you’re untouchable, like you’re better than the rest of us.

Leon’s hands remained at his sides, but his fingers twitched slightly, ready to move if necessary. I don’t think I’m better than anyone. I just want to do my time and get out.

The smirk on Blaze’s face widened, but his eyes darkened. Do your time? That’s cute. Problem is, you’re not gonna get that far.

Tonight, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. Tonight’s the night you die. The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Leon’s stomach tightened, but he refused to let it show. He met Blaze’s gaze head on, his voice steady. You sure you want to make that move? Blaze laughed, stepping back and motioning to his crew.

Oh, we’re sure. And you know what? I’m gonna enjoy every second of it. You think that military training’s gonna save you? This ain’t a war zone, Carter.

There’s no team, no backup, just you and us. One of Blaze’s men, a stocky thug with a jagged scar across his cheek, stepped forward. Hope you said your prayers, soldier boy.

You’re not making it through the night. The others laughed, their voices a chorus of cruelty. Leon stayed silent, his eyes scanning their faces, cataloging their movements, their tells.

They were trying to rattle him, to make him slip. Blaze leaned in again, his voice dripping with venom. You can try to run, you can try to fight, but no one’s coming to save you.

And when it’s over, when you’re lying on that cold, hard floor bleeding out, I’ll make sure you know exactly who did it. Leon felt the weight of their words pressing down on him, but he forced himself to stay calm. Fear was a weapon, and he couldn’t let them use it against him.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his voice low and measured. You’d better make it count, because if I’m still standing by mourning, I’ll make sure none of you forget it. Blaze’s smirk faltered for the briefest moment, but it returned quickly, sharper this time.

We’ll see about that, Carter. Tick tock. With that, Blaze turned and walked away, his crew following like a pack of wolves, retreating after marking their prey.

The yard slowly returned to its usual rhythm, but the tension lingered, thick and suffocating. Leon stood still for a moment, his mind racing. The threat wasn’t empty.

He could see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices. Tonight, they were coming for him, and if he wasn’t ready, it would be the end. As he walked back to his cell, he clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.

He’d faced death before, but this felt different. There was no mission, no greater cause, just survival. Reaching his cell, he sat on the edge of his bed, pulling the makeshift shiv from under the mattress.

He ran his thumb along the edge, testing its sharpness. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all he had. Leon leaned back against the wall, his eyes closing briefly as he took a deep breath.

He wasn’t just fighting for himself. He was fighting to get out, to prove his innocence, to take back the life that had been stolen from him. Tonight, the iron fangs would come, and when they did, Leon Carter would be ready.

The echo of running water filled the shower room, steam rising in thin, ghostly wisps from the tiled floor. Leon stood beneath one of the spigots, the lukewarm water cascading over his shoulders. The room was quiet, too quiet.

There was no chatter, no background noise of shuffling feet or idle banter. The usual hum of prison life was replaced by a tense, eerie stillness that set his nerves on edge. He turned slightly, his eyes scanning the room.

The rows of showerheads stretched out, the white tiles stained and cracked with years of neglect. No one else was in here. That alone was unusual.

His instincts screamed at him to leave, but before he could act, the sound of heavy boots echoed from the entrance. He turned sharply, water dripping from his hair, and saw them, Blaze and the iron fangs. There were six of them, their silhouettes cutting through the steam like specters.

Blaze was at the front, his smirk wide and cruel, his hands casually in his pockets, as if this was just another day in the yard. Carter, Blaze drawled, his voice echoing ominously in the confined space. Guess you didn’t get the memo.

Shower time’s been rescheduled. Just for you, Leon didn’t respond, his eyes darting toward the entrance. Two of Blaze’s men moved to block the only exit, their broad frames filling the doorway.

Blaze tilted his head, feigning disappointment. What’s the matter, soldier boy? You’re not running already, are you? Leon stepped back slowly, his bare feet gripping the wet tiles as his mind raced. He was cornered, outnumbered, and unarmed, except for the shiv he’d hidden beneath the waistband of his prison pants.

Blaze’s smirk widened as he stepped forward. We told you this was coming, didn’t we? Tonight’s the night, Carter. Let’s see how tough you really are.

The first man lunged, a wiry figure with a scar running down his cheek. Leon reacted instinctively, sidestepping the attack and driving an elbow into the man’s ribs. The attacker grunted, stumbling back, but before Leon could follow up, another came at him from the side.

The punch caught Leon in the jaw, sending him reeling. He staggered, barely managing to keep his footing as the room seemed to close in around him. Not so tough now, huh? One of the gang members sneered, his voice cutting through the steam.

Leon didn’t answer. He shook off the hit, his vision clearing just in time to see the next attacker. A stocky man with tattoos covering his neck, charging at him.

Leon ducked low, driving his shoulder into the man’s stomach and slamming him into the wall. The impact sent a sickening thud through the room, but Leon didn’t have time to celebrate. Another pair of hands grabbed him from behind, yanking him backward.

He twisted, his elbow connecting with the attacker’s face. But the man held on, his grip like a vice. Blaze watched from a distance, leaning casually against the wall.

This is pathetic, he said, laughing. Come on, Carter. Show us that military training.

Or was all that talk just hot air? Leon growled, pulling the shiv from his waistband. The sharp edge gleamed briefly in the dim light as he slashed at the arms holding him. The man yelped, letting go, and Leon spun around, his breathing heavy, his body coiled and ready.

But the gang didn’t falter. They moved as one, circling him, their movements deliberate and practiced. This wasn’t a random ambush.

They’d planned this. The next attack came from his left. Leon swung the shiv, the plastic edge slicing through the steam.

But the attacker dodged, landing a punch to Leon’s ribs. Pain shot through him, but he didn’t stop. He drove his shoulder into the man, sending him sprawling to the floor, only to be grabbed again by another.

They were overwhelming him, their numbers and coordination pressing him into a corner. Blaze finally stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. Let me show you how it’s done, boys.

Blaze’s punch came fast and hard, catching Leon in the side of the head. The world spun for a moment, and Leon fell to his knees. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and he struggled to breathe as the gang closed in, their laughter echoing around him.

Looks like the great Leon Carter isn’t so great after all, Blaze taunted, grabbing a handful of Leon’s hair and pulling his head back. Any last words, soldier boy? Leon’s grip tightened on the shiv. His body ached, his vision blurred, but he wasn’t done yet.

With a surge of strength, he swung upward, the blade slicing across Blaze’s forearm. Blaze howled, stumbling back and clutching his arm. The gang froze for a moment, the shock of seeing their leader injured, breaking their momentum.

Leon used the opening to scramble to his feet, his chest heaving as he faced them. His odds were slim, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. Finish him, Blaze roared, his voice filled with rage…

The gang surged forward again, and Leon braced himself, his heart pounding as the fight descended into chaos. Leon’s back hit the cold tiles, his ribs screaming in protest as he struggled to stay upright. The iron fangs swarmed him like a pack of wolves, their movements relentless and brutal.

The shiv in his hand was his only lifeline, its sharp edge slashing through the steam-filled air, keeping them just far enough away to avoid being overwhelmed. Blaze barked orders from the corner, his face twisted in rage as he clutched the bleeding gash on his forearm. Don’t let up! He’s nothing! Take him down! The largest of the gang lunged at Leon, his bulk a wall of muscle and momentum.

Leon sidestepped, driving the shiv into the man’s shoulder. A howl of pain echoed through the room as the attacker stumbled. But another gang member was already on Leon’s back, his arm locking around Leon’s throat.

Leon gritted his teeth, his vision narrowing as he felt the pressure cutting off his air. He slammed his head backward, the back of his skull connecting with the attacker’s nose. The satisfying crunch of cartilage gave him just enough space to break free, spinning around and landing a hard punch to the man’s jaw.

But there were too many of them. A sharp kick to his side sent Leon sprawling to the ground, the shiv skittering across the wet tiles, out of reach. He gasped for air, his muscles burning as he tried to crawl toward the weapon.

Not so tough now, are you? One of the gang members sneered. Delivering another kick to his ribs, Leon curled inward, protecting himself as best he could. But the blows kept coming.

His mind raced, desperate for a way out, for any opening he could exploit. But the gang was relentless, their attacks coordinated and merciless. Blaze stepped forward, his boots splashing in the puddles on the floor.

He crouched next to Leon, his grin predatory. This is what happens when you don’t know your place, Carter. You’re just another piece of meat in this place.

And now you’re gonna bleed like one. Leon tried to move, but a heavy hand pressed him back down. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his body screaming in pain.

He felt the cold edge of a shiv press against his neck, the weight of his situation crushing down on him. And then, like a thunderclap, the sound of a baton striking metal shattered the chaos. Back off, a voice roared, commanding and unmistakable.

The gang froze, their heads snapping toward the entrance. Standing there, baton in hand and fury in his eyes, was Franklin Jones, the guard who’d served under Leon during his Delta Force days. What the hell’s going on in here? Jones bellowed, stepping into the room with authority.

His presence alone seemed to shift the dynamic, the gang hesitating as they weighed their next move. Blaze’s smirk faltered, but he quickly masked it with bravado. This doesn’t concern you, Jones.

Walk away. Jones’ baton struck the tiles with a loud crack, the sound reverberating through the room. I said, back off, or do you want me to call in every guard on this block and have you all dragged out of here in cuffs? The gang exchanged uneasy glances, their confidence wavering.

Blaze’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists as he stared Jones down. You think you can protect him? This ain’t over. Jones took another step forward, his baton at the ready.

You’re right. It’s not. But if you don’t get out of here right now, I’ll make sure it’s over for all of you.

Permanently. Blaze hesitated, his pride warring with his sense of self-preservation. After a tense moment, he motioned to his crew.

Let’s go. The gang retreated, their footsteps echoing as they disappeared into the corridor. Blaze lingered for a second longer, his glare fixed on Leon.

This ain’t over, Carter. Not by a long shot. Jones waited until the last of them was gone before rushing to Leon’s side.

Jesus, Leon, he muttered, crouching down to help him sit up. They really did a number on you. Leon coughed, tasting blood, but he managed a faint smirk.

I’ve had worse. Jones shook his head, his expression tight with anger. You shouldn’t even be here.

You don’t belong in this place. Leon’s eyes met Jones’s. The weight of his situation reflected in his gaze.

Tell me something I don’t know. Jones helped him to his feet, his grip steady. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.

And Leon, keep that shiv close. They’ll be back. Leon nodded, his body aching with every step as they left the shower room.

The fight wasn’t over, not by a long shot, but for now, he was still standing. And as long as he was standing, he wasn’t going down without a fight. Leon sat on the edge of his bed, his ribs aching with every shallow breath.

His head rested against the cold concrete wall, his swollen knuckles still faintly stained with blood from the fight. The dim light above flickered intermittently, casting shadows that danced across his bruised face. He closed his eyes.

The events of the shower room replaying in his mind. He could still feel the weight of Blaze’s hand on his neck, the searing pain of every punch, the certainty that he wasn’t going to leave that room alive. A sharp knock on the bars of his cell startled him, his eyes snapping open.

He instinctively tensed, his body coiling as if ready for another attack. But when he looked up, he saw Franklin Jones standing there, his expression unreadable, but his presence steady. Jones, Leon said, his voice hoarse.

Jones glanced up and down the corridor, ensuring no one was watching, before stepping closer to the bars. You all right? Leon exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Been better? Jones leaned against the bars, his baton tucked under his arm.

I had a feeling they’d come at you sooner or later. Blaze doesn’t let anyone make him look weak, and you… you cut deep, literally and figuratively. Leon smirked faintly, but the pain in his side turned it into a grimace.

Thought that was it for me. If you hadn’t shown up… His voice trailed off, the weight of what could have been settling over him. Jones nodded, his jaw tightening.

You were holding your own longer than most would’ve, but let’s not sugarcoat it. They had you, Leon. They had you, and they’re gonna come again.

Leon rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers brushing against the bruises forming along his cheekbone. Yeah, I figured as much. Jones lowered his voice, his tone grim but tinged with regret.

Look, I can’t do much. The warden’s got his own rules, and most of the guards here don’t care what happens to someone like you. They won’t stick their necks out.

Not for you. Not for anyone. Leon’s stomach sank, the brief hope he’d felt flickering like a candle in the wind.

But… Jones continued, leaning in closer. I’ll do what I can. I’ll keep an eye on Blaze and his crew.

Try to keep them off you for a while. It’s not much, but it’s something. Leon looked up at him, a faint spark of gratitude in his eyes.

Why are you doing this, Jones? You could have let them finish me off. No one would have blamed you. Jones hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment.

Because… I know who you are, Leon. I know what you’ve done. The lives you’ve saved.

Hell, I was one of them. Back in Kandahar, when things went sideways, you didn’t leave anyone behind. You risked your life for your team.

For me. Leon blinked, the memories surfacing. A chaotic firefight, smoke and sand everywhere.

Jones pinned down and screaming for help. Leon had dragged him out, bullets whizzing past them, the heat of an explosion searing his back. You didn’t leave me, Jones said, his voice firm.

So… I’m not leaving you. Not now. Leon’s throat tightened, his usual stoicism cracking under the weight of Jones’ words.

For the first time in weeks, he felt something other than fear or anger. Hope, you don’t know what that means to me, Leon said quietly. Jones straightened, his grip tightening on his baton.

Don’t thank me yet. Blaze and his crew aren’t gonna stop just because I showed up once. They’re gonna push harder, and you need to be ready.

You’ve got to stay sharp. Stay alive, Leon nodded, his resolve solidifying. I’ve been through worse.

I’ll make it. Jones offered a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. You’re tougher than anyone in this place, Leon.

Just don’t let them break you. And… keep that shiv close. I can’t be everywhere.

Leon managed a dry chuckle. Already ahead of you. Jones stepped back, his gaze lingering on Leon for a moment before he turned to leave.

I’ll check in when I can. Keep your head down. As the sound of Jones’ boots faded down the corridor, Leon leaned back against the wall, his hands resting on his thighs.

For the first time since he’d been thrown into this hellhole, he didn’t feel completely alone. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. The fight in the shower room had left him battered and shaken, but it hadn’t broken him.

And now, with Jones in his corner, even if only quietly, he felt a glimmer of hope. I can do this, Leon whispered to himself, the words barely audible but carrying a weight of determination. He wasn’t out of danger yet, not by a long shot…

But as long as he had someone on his side, someone who believed in him, he had a chance. And that was enough to keep him going. Leon sat in the same cold chair in the visitation room, the scratched plexiglass separating him from Jessica once again.

The sound of the door slamming shut behind him made his heart sink. He didn’t know why, but something about the way she avoided meeting his gaze immediately told him this wasn’t going to be the good news he desperately needed. Jessica adjusted her glasses, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the notepad in her lap.

She looked tired, worn thin by the battle she was fighting for him outside these walls. But it wasn’t her weariness that mattered. It was the hesitation.

Jessica, Leon said, his voice low and strained. What’s going on? She let out a slow breath, finally meeting his eyes. Leon, there’s been a delay.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He felt the air leave his lungs, his chest tightening as his pulse quickened. A delay? What do you mean? A delay? Jessica leaned closer, her voice soft but urgent, trying to steady him.

The judge wants more time to review the evidence we submitted. It’s a good thing. It means they’re taking it seriously.

But it also means your appeal hearing has been pushed back another week. Leon’s hands clenched into fists on the table, his knuckles turning white. He couldn’t stop the tremor in his voice.

Another week? Jessica, I barely made it through the last one. You don’t understand what it’s like in here. They’re not waiting.

They’re coming for me every day. I do understand, she said quickly, her voice firm but empathetic. I know how dangerous it is, Leon.

I’m doing everything I can to get you out, but this process takes time. I don’t have time, Leon snapped, his voice rising. The guard standing near the door shifted slightly, eyeing them, but Leon forced himself to lower his tone.

Jessica, they’re not going to stop. Blaze and his crew, they’ve already come after me. Twice.

I barely walked away last time, and that was because someone intervened. If they come at me again, he trailed off, shaking his head, his jaw tight. Jessica’s eyes softened, guilt flickering across her face.

I know, Leon. I know this is unfair, and I hate that you’re in this situation, but this is the only way to clear your name. If I push too hard, if I cut corners, they’ll shut it down.

We’ll lose everything. Leon exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair, his hands running over his face. He could feel the panic clawing at him, the walls of the room seeming to close in.

Another week, he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. I don’t know if I can do it, Jessica. I don’t know if I can survive another week.

Jessica reached her hand toward the glass, her palm pressed flat against it. It was a small, futile gesture, but it carried a weight of reassurance. Listen to me, Leon.

You’ve survived things that would have killed most people. You’ve been through hell before, and you came out stronger. I know you’re scared.

I would be too, but you can get through this. You have to. Leon’s eyes met hers, a mix of fear and frustration swirling within them.

You’re not the one who has to watch your back every second. You’re not the one who has to fight off six guys in a shower room just to stay alive. I’m doing everything I can, Jessica, but it’s not enough.

I’m not enough. Her voice softened, the intensity in her gaze unwavering. You are enough, Leon.

You’re stronger than they are. And you’re not alone. You have me.

You have Jones. You’re not fighting this alone. Leon’s laugh was bitter, his head shaking slightly.

Jones can’t watch me all the time. He’s already risking enough just checking in on me. And you, you’re out there.

Not in here. You don’t know what it’s like to feel like every shadow is someone waiting to kill you. Jessica hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line.

You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like. But I do know what it’s like to fight for something that seems impossible.

I know what it’s like to feel like the whole world is against you. And I know what it’s like to come out the other side. Leon swallowed hard, his throat dry.

Another week, he said again, his voice heavy with resignation. Jessica nodded slowly. One more week, Leon.

That’s all I’m asking. Hold on for one more week, and I’ll get you out of this place. I promise.

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he stared at the scratched plexiglass. I don’t know if I believe in promises anymore. He said quietly.

Jessica’s expression didn’t falter. Then, believe in yourself. Believe in the man who’s survived everything this world has thrown at him.

You can do this. The guard stepped closer, signaling the end of their visit. Jessica stood, gathering her things, but her eyes never left Leon’s.

I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay sharp. Stay alive.

Leon nodded faintly, watching as she left the room. The door closed with a loud clang, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Another week, the words echoed in his mind as he walked back to his cell, his legs feeling heavier with every step.

The threats, the fear, the violence—they would all be waiting for him. But somehow, he had to endure. Because if he didn’t, the truth about who framed him would die with him.

Leon sat in his cell, his mind racing as he stared at the makeshift shiv he’d crafted days ago. His body still ached from the beatings, and his ribs throbbed with every shallow breath. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the mental weight crushing him.

Waiting for the Iron Fangs to strike again wasn’t survival. It was suicide. He needed to do something different, something bold.

If he was going to last another week, he couldn’t just play defense anymore. He had to take the fight to them. The next day in the yard, Leon scanned the crowd, his sharp eyes seeking an opportunity.

The Iron Fangs weren’t the only power players in the prison. The gangs didn’t mix, each carving out their territory like feuding kingdoms. But he knew that alliances were sometimes formed out of necessity.

Leon’s attention settled on a group near the far fence—the Strikers. They were smaller in number, mostly black and Latino men who kept to themselves but were known to hold their own when pushed. Their leader, Ramon Ortiz, was a wiry man with tattoos snaking up his arms and a reputation for pragmatism.

Leon approached slowly, his every movement deliberate to avoid drawing unwanted attention. As he neared, a couple of Strikers stiffened, their hands twitching toward their makeshift weapons. I’m not here to start anything, Leon said evenly, his voice calm but firm.

Ramon glanced up from where he sat on a makeshift bench, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied Leon. Then, why are you here? Leon stopped a few feet away, keeping his posture neutral but strong. I need help, and I’m willing to pay for it.

Ramon smirked, leaning back. Help? From us? You know how this works, Carter. If you’re asking for help, you’re bringing your problems to my doorstep.

Why would I want that? Because I’m not looking for a free handout, Leon replied, his voice low but steady. I know you don’t like the Iron Fangs. You and I both know they think they run this place.

I can give you an opening to hit back. The men around Ramon exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves. Ramon raised a hand, silencing them.

You want us to go to war with Blaze and his crew? You think we’re stupid? Leon shook his head. Not war, just a statement. They’ve been coming after me, and I know they’re not going to stop.

But they’re not untouchable. I just need a little backup to take a few of them out of play. Send a message.

Ramon tilted his head, considering. And what do we get out of this? I’ll owe you, Leon said simply. You give me protection, and I’ll make it worth your while.

Commissary trades, intel, whatever you need. Ramon’s smirk returned, but there was a hint of respect in his gaze now. You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.

But guts don’t always pay off in here. They do when they’re backed by results, Leon countered. I’ve taken hits before, but I’m still standing.

If you help me take a few of them down, it’ll show everyone in this yard that the Iron Fangs aren’t invincible. That’s worth more than commissary. Ramon leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he locked eyes with Leon.

The yard was buzzing around them, but in that moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them. Okay, Ramon said finally. You’ve got yourself a deal, but if this goes sideways, you’re on your own.

Got it? Got it, Leon said, his tone unwavering. That night, the plan went into motion. Ramon had tipped him off to a weak link in the Iron Fangs, a younger member named Cole, who often broke off from the group after lights out to sneak contraband through the cell blocks.

Leon waited in the shadows near the corridor, his shiv hidden in the sleeve of his shirt. The faint hum of the overhead lights was the only sound as he watched Cole’s wiry frame approach, his steps light and casual. Leon stepped out, blocking his path.

Cole froze, his eyes widening. What the hell do you want? To send a message, Leon said coldly. Cole’s hand darted to his waistband, but Leon was faster.

He lunged forward, slamming Cole against the wall and pressing the shiv to his neck. You tell Blaze this stops now, Leon growled. He comes at me again, and I’ll make sure he’s next.

You got that? Cole swallowed hard, his breath coming in shallow gasps. You’re dead, Carter. You don’t scare us.

Leon pressed the shiv harder, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. You sure about that? Because I’ve got nothing to lose. And I promise you, I’ll take as many of you with me as I can.

Now go. He stepped back, letting Cole stumble away, his face pale and his confidence shattered. From the shadows, Ramon emerged, nodding approvingly.

Not bad, Carter. Not bad at all. Leon didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the empty corridor ahead.

The iron fangs would come for him again, he knew that. But now, he wasn’t just waiting for them. He was ready to fight back.

Leon stood in the dim, damp hallway near the laundry room, his back pressed against the cold concrete wall. The faint sound of machines whirring in the background did nothing to ease the tension. He wasn’t alone.

Ramon and three other strikers flanked him, their expressions grim and determined. They knew what was coming. They’re bringing everyone, Ramon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You sure you want to do this here? Guards aren’t going to step in if things get ugly. Leon’s jaw tightened, his eyes scanning the empty corridor ahead. I don’t have a choice…

If we don’t stop them now, they’ll keep coming. They’ll take me apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left. Ramon nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line.

All right, but if we’re doing this, we do it right. No mercy. The sound of heavy boots echoed from the far end of the hallway, growing louder with each step.

Blaze’s voice carried through the air, sharp and mocking. Carter, you hiding back here like a rat? Thought you were tougher than that. Leon took a deep breath, steadying himself.

He felt the weight of the shiv tucked into his waistband and the tension coiling in his muscles. This wasn’t just about survival anymore. This was about ending the threat for good.

Blaze appeared first, his smirk wide and cruel. Flanked by eight of his men, their eyes gleamed with malice, their hands clutching makeshift weapons. Pipes, shivs, and broken broom handles sharpened to points.

Well, well, Blaze drawled, stopping a few feet away. Look who decided to bring friends. Cute, but it won’t save you.

Leon stepped forward, his voice cold and steady. This ends here, Blaze. You come at me again, and none of you are walking out of here.

Blaze’s smirk twisted into a sneer. Big talk for a dead man. The fight erupted without warning.

One of Blaze’s men lunged, swinging a pipe aimed at Leon’s head. Leon ducked, the metal whistling past his ear, and countered with a hard punch to the man’s gut. The attacker doubled over, and Leon followed up with a knee to his face, sending him crashing to the ground.

The hallway exploded into chaos as the two groups clashed. The confined space amplified the grunts, yells, and sickening thuds of fists and weapons connecting with flesh. Ramon tackled one of the iron fangs, slamming him into the wall and driving a shiv into his shoulder.

Another striker grappled with two attackers at once, his fists flying in quick, brutal succession. Leon turned just in time to block a wild swing from Blaze. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the chaos around them seemed to fade.

Blaze’s grin was gone, replaced by pure rage. You’re done, Carter! Blaze snarled, lunging again. Leon sidestepped, grabbing Blaze’s arm and twisting it hard.

The gang leader grunted in pain, but he used his free hand to drive a fist into Leon’s ribs. Leon stumbled back, his breath hitching, but he recovered quickly, slashing at Blaze with his shiv. The blade caught Blaze’s forearm, drawing a deep gash.

Blaze roared, staggering back as blood dripped onto the floor. The fight raged on around them. Leon caught glimpses of the strikers holding their own, their movements precise and ruthless.

But the iron fangs weren’t backing down. For every man that fell, another surged forward, their attacks fueled by desperation and hatred. Leon blocked a strike from one of the larger gang members, using his momentum to slam the man into the wall.

The impact sent a dull crack through the air, and the man crumpled to the ground. Carter! Blaze roared, charging at him again. Leon braced himself, their bodies colliding in a brutal grapple.

Blaze swung wildly, his fists connecting with Leon’s side and jaw. But Leon fought back with equal ferocity. He drove his elbow into Blaze’s face, then followed up with a knee to his stomach.

Blaze staggered, blood streaming from his nose, but he didn’t go down. He grabbed a pipe from the floor, swinging it with all his strength. Leon dodged, the pipe grazing his shoulder, and retaliated with a punch that sent Blaze reeling.

Around them, the hallway was a battlefield. Bodies littered the floor, groaning and bloodied. But the fight wasn’t over.

The iron fangs were relentless, their attacks growing more frantic as their numbers dwindled. Leon felt the strain in his muscles, the ache in his ribs. But he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t afford to.

He knew that if he let up, even for a second, they’d tear him apart. “‘Keep going!’ Ramon shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. Leon gritted his teeth, his focus narrowing on Blaze.

He lunged, driving the shiv into Blaze’s thigh. The gang leader screamed, dropping the pipe as he fell to one knee. “‘It’s over,’ Leon said, his voice low and deadly.

Blaze glared up at him, his chest heaving. “‘You think this is over? You think you’ve won?’ Leon didn’t answer. He turned to face the remaining gang members, his stance steady, despite the pain radiating through his body.

“‘This ends now,’ he said, his voice echoing through the hallway. The iron fangs hesitated, their confidence finally cracking. They exchanged uncertain glances, the fight draining out of them as they saw their leader on his knees, bleeding and beaten.

The hallway was a battlefield, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sounds of groaning men. Leon stood in the middle of the chaos, his chest heaving, his grip on the shiv firm but his muscles trembling with exhaustion. Blaze was on one knee, clutching the wound in his thigh, blood seeping through his fingers.

The iron fangs were faltering. The confidence that had carried them into this ambush had shattered, replaced by fear and uncertainty. Leon’s voice cut through the tense silence, sharp and commanding.

“‘This is your last chance. Walk away or I’ll make sure none of you leave this hallway upright.’ One of Blaze’s lieutenants, a stocky man with a jagged scar across his cheek, stepped forward, his grip tightening on a broken pipe. “‘You think we’re just gonna roll over? You don’t scare us, Carter.’ Leon’s gaze locked onto him, cold and unyielding.

“‘Then step up and find out.’ The lieutenant hesitated, glancing back at his comrades. The hesitation cost him. Before he could react, Leon closed the distance in a burst of movement, slamming his shoulder into the man’s chest and driving him back into the wall.

The pipe clattered to the ground as Leon delivered a brutal punch to his gut, then another to his jaw, sending him crumpling to the floor. Blaze’s remaining men hesitated, their resolve cracking. They’d never expected this.

A single man, outnumbered, turning their ambush into their defeat, but one of them, younger and desperate, charged at Leon with a wild yell. Leon sidestepped the attack, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting it sharply. The makeshift shiv the younger man had been holding fell to the ground, and Leon drove his knee into the man’s stomach before tossing him to the side.

The strikers were still in the fight, keeping the rest of the iron fangs at bay. Ramon was a blur of motion, his shiv flashing as he disarmed one man and delivered a swift elbow to another’s temple. The other strikers moved with practiced efficiency, their strikes precise and brutal.

Blaze tried to rise, his face twisted in pain and fury. You think you’ve won, Carter? he spat, his voice hoarse. This doesn’t end here, Leon turned to him, his expression hard.

No, it ends here. Right now, he stepped forward, grabbing Blaze by the collar and hauling him to his feet. Blaze swung a wild punch, but Leon caught his wrist, twisting it until Blaze cried out.

With a shove, Leon slammed Blaze against the wall, pinning him there. You brought this on yourself, Leon said, his voice low and dangerous. You could have left me alone.

You could have walked away. But now, you’re going to pay for every threat, every attack, every man you sent after me. Blaze’s defiance flickered, replaced by the faintest hint of fear.

You don’t have the guts, he sneered, though his voice wavered. Leon leaned in, his grip tightening. Try me.

With a sharp twist, Leon drove his knee into Blaze’s stomach, doubling him over. He let Blaze fall to the ground, coughing and gasping for air before stepping back. The hallway was littered with bodies, iron fangs groaning and bleeding, their will to fight completely shattered.

Ramon and the strikers stood at the ready, but there was no need. The fight was over. Leon surveyed the scene, his chest rising and falling heavily.

Every muscle in his body ached, his ribs screaming in protest, but he stood tall. He’d done what he had to do. He’d sent a message.

Get them out of here, Leon said, his voice firm but tired. The remaining iron fangs scrambled to their feet, dragging their injured comrades away. Blaze was the last to move, his glare full of hatred, but his body too broken to do anything about it.

This isn’t over, Carter, Blaze growled as he limped down the hallway, blood dripping with every step. Leon didn’t respond, his focus already shifting. He knew better than to believe Blaze’s threats were empty, but for now, he’d won.

Hours later, Leon sat in the infirmary, his side heavily bandaged and his body resting against the stiff mattress of the cot. The nurse had scolded him for overexerting himself, but he barely heard her words. His mind was spinning, the adrenaline from the fight still coursing through his veins.

The infirmary was quiet, a sanctuary compared to the chaos he’d just endured. For the first time in days, Leon felt like he could breathe. He stared at the ceiling, his thoughts racing.

He knew this wasn’t the end. Blaze wouldn’t stop, and the iron fangs would come back stronger. But for now, he had time.

Time to recover. Time to think. Time to prepare.

A faint smirk crossed his lips. Despite the pain radiating through his body, he’d survived. For now, that was enough.

A few days later, Leon sat in the hard plastic chair of the visitation room, exhaustion etched into every line of his bruised face. The fight with Blaze’s crew had left him battered, and the relief of surviving was already fading as the reality of what lay ahead set in. Jessica Green walked in briskly, her sharp, determined gaze zeroing in on him.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second when she saw his injuries, but quickly masked her concern. She sat down across from him, leaning forward, her voice calm but firm. Leon, I have good news.

We’ve got the judge’s decision. The appeal worked. You’re getting out.

Tomorrow. Leon froze, her words hanging in the air. For a moment, all he could do was blink, the weight of the statement settling over him.

Tomorrow? He asked, his voice low, almost disbelieving. Jessica nodded. It’s official…

They’ll process you in the morning. By this time tomorrow, you’ll be out of this hellhole. Relief washed over Leon, but it didn’t last long.

His mind immediately shifted to the night ahead. One more night, he muttered, more to himself than to her. Jessica picked up on his tone, her brows knitting together.

Leon, you’ve already done the hard part. You just have to hold on a little longer. Leon leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly together, his voice low and tense.

It’s not that simple, Jessica. Blaze and his crew aren’t just after me for kicks. We both know someone put them up to this.

Jessica nodded slowly. We know someone hired him. You don’t have to prove that tonight, Leon.

Once you’re out, I can dig into the details. You just need to survive. Leon shook his head, his expression grim.

If I leave here without answers, it won’t stop. Whoever hired Blaze won’t just give up because I’m on the outside. They’ll come after me again, and they’ll be smarter about it next time.

If I don’t find out who it is and why they want me dead, I’ll be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. Jessica leaned back in her chair, her lips pressing into a thin line. And you think Blaze is just going to tell you? Leon? That’s not how this works.

He’ll never admit anything unless he’s got a reason. I’ll give him a reason, Leon said, his voice steady and cold. Blaze thrives on fear, on power.

If I can take that away from him, even for a second, he’ll crack. He’s too arrogant to keep quiet if he thinks he’s already lost. Jessica frowned, worry flashing across her face.

Leon, you’ve already taken so many risks. You’ve made it this far. Don’t push your luck now, Leon’s jaw tightened.

This isn’t just about me anymore, Jessica. It’s about stopping whoever’s behind this before they can ruin someone else’s life the way they ruined mine. I have to do this, tonight.

Jessica studied him for a long moment, her expression softening. If you’re going to do this, be smart about it. You’ve already proven you can handle Blaze and his crew, but you’re not invincible, Leon.

If something goes wrong, it won’t, he said quickly, cutting her off. I can’t afford for it to go wrong. The guard stepped forward, signaling the end of their visit.

Jessica hesitated, then pressed her palm flat against the glass, her voice steady despite the emotion in her eyes. Stay sharp, Leon. You’re almost there, Leon nodded, his hand brushing against the glass.

Thanks, Jessica, for everything. As he was escorted back to his cell, Leon’s mind raced. Blaze wasn’t just a threat, he was a key.

If Leon could corner him, break him, and get him to admit who had put the hit out, it would change everything. He had one night left in this hellhole, and he wasn’t going to waste it waiting for another attack. Tonight, he was going to take control.

The air in the utility corridor was thick and stale, the faint hum of the overhead lights doing little to mask the oppressive silence. This part of the prison was rarely used at night, a perfect place for what Leon needed to do. He stood in the shadows near the far wall, his back pressed against the cold concrete, every nerve in his body was on edge, his muscles tense and ready for what was about to unfold.

Blaze was alone, just as Leon had planned. The gang leader sauntered into the corridor, his swagger as confident as ever despite the visible limp from the gash Leon had left in his thigh during their last encounter. Blaze glanced over his shoulder, clearly unaware that he was being watched, his usual smirk plastered across his face.

Leon stepped out of the shadows, his voice cold and sharp. Looking for someone, Blaze? Blaze froze, his body going rigid. He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto Leon.

For the first time, there was a flicker of something other than confidence in his gaze. Carter, he said, forcing a sneer. Didn’t think you had it in you to come looking for me.

Leon didn’t respond immediately. He took a step closer, his movements deliberate and controlled, the tension between them crackling like static electricity. You and I need to talk, Leon said, his tone low and dangerous.

Blaze snorted, though his bravado seemed thinner now. Talk? That’s not really your style, is it? Thought you’d rather throw punches than words, Leon’s lips twitched into a humorless smile. We’ll get there, before Blaze could react.

Leon closed the distance between them, his fist connecting with Blaze’s jaw in a brutal, precise strike. The gang leader staggered back, his hand flying to his face as a snarl escaped his lips. You think you can intimidate me? Blaze spat, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

You’ve got nothing on me, Carter. Leon grabbed him by the collar, slamming him into the wall with enough force to make the plaster crack. Wrong.

I’ve got everything on you. You’re a thug, Blaze, and I’ve fought men a hundred times tougher than you. Now tell me who hired you.

Blaze’s sneer faltered, replaced by a flicker of panic that he quickly masked with anger. You’re delusional. No one hired me.

This is personal. Leon slammed him into the wall again, harder this time. Don’t lie to me.

I’ve seen your type before. Arrogant. Overconfident.

But you’re not stupid. You wouldn’t risk coming after me unless someone was paying you to do it. Blaze let out a strained laugh, though it sounded more desperate than amused.

And what if I don’t feel like talking? Leon’s fist crashed into Blaze’s stomach, doubling him over. Blaze coughed violently, the air rushing out of his lungs as he struggled to stay upright. Leon grabbed him by the back of the neck, forcing him to stand.

You’re going to talk, Leon growled, his voice a dangerous whisper. Because if you don’t, I’ll make sure you’re unrecognizable by the time I’m done with you. Blaze glared at him, his defiance wavering as he wiped the blood from his mouth.

You don’t scare me, he muttered, though his voice shook ever so slightly. Leon’s fist connected with Blaze’s ribs, the sickening crunch echoing in the corridor. Blaze cried out, his bravado crumbling as he clutched his side.

Leon leaned in close, his voice cold and steady. Now, let’s try this again. Who hired you? Blaze’s eyes darted around the corridor as though searching for an escape, but there was none.

His breaths came in shallow gasps, and for the first time, genuine fear crossed his face. All right, all right, he spat, his words laced with pain. I’ll talk.

Leon released his grip slightly, giving Blaze just enough room to breathe. I’m listening. Blaze’s voice was shaky, his tough-guy facade completely gone.

It was… it was a man named Foster. Big-shot businessman. Wanted you out of the way.

Said you were a problem. That you knew too much about some deal he was trying to close. Leon’s eyes narrowed.

Foster? What’s his full name? Elliot Foster. Blaze said quickly, desperation creeping into his tone. That’s all I know, I swear.

He paid me and my crew to make your life hell. Said we’d get a bonus if we… If we finished you off. Leon’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening on Blaze’s collar.

And what about the evidence? Did Foster plant it to frame me? Blaze nodded frantically. Yeah. He said he had connections, people in the system who owed him favors.

That’s how he got you thrown in here. Leon stared at him for a long moment, his mind racing as the pieces began to fall into place. He finally let go, shoving Blaze to the ground.

You’ve got one chance to walk away from this, Blaze. Stay out of my way or I’ll finish what I started. Blaze scrambled to his feet, his face pale and bloodied.

He didn’t say another word as he stumbled out of the corridor, leaving Leon alone in the silence. Leon took a deep breath, his fists still clenched. He finally had a name, a starting point.

Tomorrow, when he walked out of this prison, he’d be ready to take the fight to the people who had tried to destroy him. But first, he had to survive the night. Leon sat on the edge of his cot in his dimly lit cell, his back against the cold concrete wall.

The corridor outside was eerily quiet, the usual hum of nighttime noise reduced to an oppressive silence. The faint ache in his knuckles and ribs reminded him of his encounter with Blaze, but it wasn’t the pain keeping him awake. It was the weight of what came next…

He glanced at the small clock mounted on the far wall, the red numbers ticking down the hours until morning, just a few more hours, and he’d be processed out. Freedom was so close, but the knowledge of how precarious his situation was made it feel almost unreachable. Blaze wouldn’t take this lying down.

The iron fangs weren’t the type to let someone get the better of them without retaliation. Leon let out a slow breath, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The name Elliot Foster echoed in his mind, a grim reminder of the bigger fight waiting for him outside these walls.

But first, he had to make it through the night. Footsteps broke the silence outside his cell, heavy, deliberate, and getting closer. Leon tensed, his muscles coiling as he listened.

It wasn’t a guard’s lazy stroll. It was something else, something purposeful. He rose to his feet, his eyes fixed on the shadow creeping along the floor just beyond the bars.

The figure stopped in front of his cell, and Leon’s chest tightened as Blaze appeared, his face still bruised and bloodied from their earlier encounter. Behind him were three other iron fangs, their expressions hard and unforgiving. One held a shiv, another clutched a jagged piece of metal, and the third carried what looked like a pipe.

They didn’t bother with pretense this time. Blaze’s smirk was gone, replaced with something colder, darker. You think you can humiliate me and just walk out of here, Carter? His voice was low, venomous.

You’ve got a few hours left, and I’m making sure you don’t see them. Leon stepped closer to the bars, his posture calm, but ready. You really want to do this again, Blaze? Last time didn’t go so well for you.

Blaze’s laugh was harsh, bitter. Last time, you got lucky. This time, I’m not holding back.

Leon’s eyes flicked to the weapons in their hands, his mind calculating. His shiv was hidden beneath his mattress, within easy reach if they managed to get the door open. The guards were nowhere to be seen, and he knew better than to expect help.

This was his fight, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. Blaze nodded to one of his men, who pulled out a crude key fashioned from a stolen tool. The lock clicked, and the cell door creaked open.

Leon took a step back, his body tensing as the men filed in, their movements deliberate and predatory. Blaze stayed at the entrance, his arms crossed as his men advanced. Take your time, he said, his tone dripping with malice.

Make sure he feels every second of it. The first man lunged, swinging his pipe in a wide arc. Leon sidestepped, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting it sharply.

The pipe clattered to the ground as Leon drove his elbow into the man’s face, sending him sprawling onto the cot. The second man didn’t wait. He charged, shiv in hand, aiming for Leon’s side.

Leon grabbed the edge of the cot, flipping it up as a makeshift shield. The blade sank into the mattress, and Leon used the distraction to slam his fist into the man’s stomach, then his jaw. The attacker crumpled, gasping for air.

The third man hesitated for a split second, clearly unnerved by how quickly Leon had taken down the others, but Blaze’s glare pushed him forward. He swung the jagged piece of metal, aiming for Leon’s head. Leon ducked, the weapon grazing his shoulder, and countered with a brutal uppercut.

The man staggered, but Leon didn’t let up, delivering a sharp kick to his knee that sent him crashing to the floor. Blaze stepped forward now, his confidence waning but his fury burning bright. You think this changes anything?” he snarled.

You’re still dead, Carter, whether it’s tonight or tomorrow. You’re not walking out of here alive. Leon’s chest heaved as he turned to face Blaze, his fists bloody but steady.

You’ve already lost, Blaze. I’m still standing. Your men are down, and tomorrow, I’m walking out of here, and you’ll still be rotting in this hellhole! Blaze roared, lunging at Leon with reckless abandon.

The two collided in a chaotic grapple, fists flying and bodies slamming into the walls. Leon’s ribs screamed in protest, but he fought through the pain, every movement driven by sheer willpower. With a final surge of strength, Leon drove Blaze into the corner, pinning him against the wall, his forearm pressed against Blaze’s throat, cutting off his air.

This is over, Leon growled, his voice cold and unrelenting. You’ve got nothing left, Blaze struggled weakly. His face red and contorted with rage, but he couldn’t break free.

Finally, Leon let him go, stepping back as Blaze slid to the floor, gasping for breath. Leon stood tall, his chest heaving as he surveyed the wreckage. The iron fangs were beaten, their leader broken, their will shattered.

He staggered back to his cot, his body screaming in protest, but he allowed himself a faint, grim smile. He had survived the night. The morning came slowly, the faint rays of sunlight filtering through the narrow, grimy window of Leon’s cell.

His body ached from head to toe, his ribs wrapped tightly with bandages, courtesy of a nurse who had barely glanced at him during the late-night checkup after the fight. But none of that mattered now. Today, he was walking out of this hell, the clang of keys snapping him out of his thoughts.

A guard appeared at the bars, clipboard in hand, and an expression of mild disinterest. Carter, time to go. Leon exhaled deeply, rising from the cot with deliberate slowness.

Every movement reminded him of the brutal battles he’d survived, but the pain didn’t bother him. It was a reminder of what he had endured to make it to this moment. As he stepped out of the cell, he glanced down the hallway.

Blaze was slumped against the bars of his own cell, his face swollen and his lips split from the beating Leon had given him. Their eyes met briefly, and Blaze’s expression twisted into a hateful glare. This ain’t over, Carter.

Blaze rasped, his voice hoarse. You hear me? You’re not safe out there. Leon’s lips curled into a faint smirk, his tone steady and cold.

You keep saying that, Blaze, but here I am, walking out while you’re stuck in this cage. Looks like I’m the one who won. Blaze slammed his hand against the bars, but Leon didn’t look back.

The sound faded behind him as he followed the guard down the corridor, each step bringing him closer to freedom. The processing room was stark and clinical. Its walls painted a lifeless gray.

Leon stood silently as the clerk went through the usual motions, handing over his personal belongings. A watch, a wallet, and the dog tags he hadn’t seen since the day he’d been incarcerated. He held the tags in his hand for a moment, the cool metal pressing against his skin like a lifeline.

They were a reminder of who he was, who he still had to be. The clerk droned on, explaining the release process, but Leon barely listened. His mind was already on what came next.

He had a name now, Elliot Foster, and a purpose. He wouldn’t rest until the man who had put him through hell faced justice. As the final papers were signed, Jessica walked into the room, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

Her sharp eyes immediately landed on Leon, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. Leon. He turned, his face softening ever so slightly.

Jessica. She approached, her expression a mix of relief and determination. I thought I’d meet you here, make sure everything went smoothly.

Leon nodded, slipping his dog tags over his head. Thanks. For everything.

I wouldn’t be here without you. Jessica’s smile grew, but there was a seriousness in her eyes. You’re out now, Leon.

But this fight isn’t over. Foster’s still out there. Leon’s jaw tightened at the name.

I know. He’s the reason I’m in this mess, and he’s the reason I can’t just walk away. But now, I have a chance to do something about it.

Jessica hesitated, her voice dropping slightly. You don’t have to do this alone, you know. I’ve already started digging into Foster’s background.

He’s careful, but no one’s untouchable. Leon studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded.

Good. Because I’m not stopping until I bring him down. The guard signaled that it was time to leave, and Jessica stepped aside, letting Leon walk toward the door.

As he crossed the threshold, the bright sunlight hit him like a wave, warm and blinding after weeks of fluorescent glare and shadowy corridors. He paused for a moment, letting the warmth wash over him before stepping fully into the outside world. The car ride was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound as Jessica drove them away from the prison.

Leon stared out the window, watching the landscape pass by in a blur of green and gray. His body was still sore, but his mind was sharp, focused on what came next. You’ve got somewhere to stay? Jessica asked, breaking the silence.

Leon nodded. I’ll figure it out. First, I need to regroup.

Get my head on straight. And Foster? She pressed gently. Leon’s gaze hardened, his voice low.

He’s next. Jessica nodded, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. Just promise me you’ll be careful.

Whoever Foster is, he has resources. He managed to frame you, hire a gang to kill you in prison, and keep his hands clean. He’s not someone to underestimate.

Leon’s lips twitched into a faint smile. I don’t underestimate anyone. But Foster made one mistake.

He didn’t finish the job. Now, it’s my turn. Jessica didn’t respond, but the weight of his words hung heavily in the air.

As they pulled up to the small apartment Jessica had arranged for him, Leon stepped out, his movements slow and deliberate. The scars of his time in prison were fresh, but his resolve was unshakable. He turned to Jessica, offering her a nod of thanks before heading inside.

Once alone, Leon sat at the small, bare table, pulling out a notepad and pen. He wrote one word at the top of the page, Foster. Beneath it, he began listing everything Blaze had told him, every connection he could think of…

The next phase of his fight had begun. He wasn’t just free, he was armed with the truth, and that made him more dangerous than ever. Leon sat at the table in the dimly lit apartment, his fingers tracing the edge of the notepad in front of him.

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of traffic outside. On the page, the name Elliot Foster stared back at him, circled twice in heavy pen strokes. Beneath it, a scattered web of notes, fragments of information Blaze had spilled under duress.

Each word was a piece of a puzzle that Leon knew he had to solve. He leaned back in his chair, the faint ache in his ribs reminding him of just how close he’d come to losing everything. But pain didn’t matter now.

He was free, and the man who had taken everything from him was within reach. Foster had framed him, orchestrated the attacks in prison, and tried to bury him. That kind of arrogance left trails, no matter how careful someone thought they were.

Jessica had left him with a burner phone, urging him to call if he needed anything. She’d promised to continue digging, but Leon wasn’t one to wait around for answers. He had learned long ago that action was the best defense.

Leon’s first stop was a public library, its sterile interior a far cry from the chaos of prison. He found a quiet corner and booted up one of the computers, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he searched for everything he could about Elliot Foster. It didn’t take long to uncover the basics.

Foster was a high-level real estate developer, his name attached to several lucrative projects across the city. On the surface, he looked clean, a philanthropist, a family man. But Leon knew better.

Digging deeper, he found whispers of controversy buried in obscure articles and blogs, land disputes, shady deals, allegations of intimidation tactics, all things that had never made it to the mainstream media. Foster had a way of keeping his hands clean, using others to do his dirty work while maintaining the appearance of legitimacy. Leon’s eyes narrowed as he jotted down addresses and names tied to Foster’s projects.

One name stood out, Haven Enterprises, a shell company listed on several contracts. It was vague enough to avoid attention, but Leon recognized it for what it was, a front. He printed out what he needed, tucking the papers into his jacket before leaving.

As he stepped outside, the cool air hit him like a wake-up call. He pulled the burner phone from his pocket and dialed Jessica’s number. Leon? She answered quickly, her voice sharp and alert.

Everything okay? I found a lead, he said, keeping his tone low as he scanned the street. Foster’s tied to a company called Haven Enterprises. I need you to look into it, find out who’s running it, who they’ve been paying.

Jessica paused for a moment before responding. I’ll dig into it, but Leon, be careful. Foster’s powerful.

If you start poking around, he’s going to know. Leon smirked faintly. Let him.

He’s been coming for me this whole time. It’s about time I returned the favor. Jessica sighed.

Just don’t do anything reckless. I’ll call you as soon as I have something. Leon hung up, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

He had no intention of waiting for answers. If Haven Enterprises was Foster’s operation, there would be people who knew the truth, people who could be persuaded to talk. By nightfall, Leon found himself in front of a small, unassuming office building in an industrial part of town.

The sign on the door read, Haven Enterprises, the letters peeling slightly at the edges. It didn’t look like much, but that only confirmed what Leon already suspected. This wasn’t a real business.

It was a hub for whatever Foster was hiding. He slipped inside, the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the smell of stale coffee filling the air. The front desk was empty, and the building was eerily quiet.

Leon moved cautiously, his eyes scanning every corner as he made his way down the hall. Most of the doors were locked, but one near the end of the corridor was slightly ajar. Inside, he found a small office cluttered with paperwork and a single computer.

Leon scanned the room quickly, his gaze landing on a filing cabinet in the corner. He pulled it open, rifling through the folders until he found what he was looking for. Contracts, payment records, and a list of names.

Foster’s web was bigger than he’d imagined, spanning multiple cities and involving more than just the prison hit. There were bribes, kickbacks, and connections to local officials. Leon’s stomach tightened as he read the names.

This wasn’t just about him. Foster was running a full-scale operation using intimidation and force to silence anyone who stood in his way, and Leon had been one of those people. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, pulling Leon from his thoughts.

He froze, his hand instinctively reaching for the shiv he’d kept hidden since prison. The sound grew louder, closer. He slipped behind the desk, crouching low as the door creaked open.

A man entered, his movements cautious. A phone pressed to his ear. Yeah, I’m at the office now, he said.

No, everything’s quiet. Foster’s just being paranoid. Leon stepped out of the shadows, his voice cold and sharp.

Is he? The man froze, his eyes widening as he turned to face Leon. Who the hell are you? Leon took a step forward, his gaze unwavering. I’m the guy Foster tried to bury.

Now, you’re going to tell me everything you know, or we’re going to have a problem. The tension in the small office was palpable as Leon stepped closer to the man, his imposing presence filling the room. The man looked younger than Leon had expected, his nervous energy radiating through every tense muscle in his body.

His phone slipped from his hand, clattering to the desk, and his wide eyes darted to the door as if considering an escape. Don’t even think about it, Leon said, his voice low and sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. He stood just feet away, his posture relaxed but ready, the aura of someone who had survived worse than whatever came next.

You’re not getting past me. The man swallowed hard, his hands raising slightly in a gesture of surrender. Look, I don’t know who you are, but I’m just an assistant.

I don’t know anything. Leon’s lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. An assistant who’s here at night, talking to Foster about how paranoid he’s getting? Don’t insult my intelligence.

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk, forcing the man to meet his gaze. Here’s how this works. You tell me what I want to know, and you get to walk out of here in one piece.

You lie to me, and things get messy. Understand? The man nodded quickly, sweat beating on his forehead. Okay.

Okay. What do you want to know? Start with your name, Leon said, his tone calm but laced with authority. Eric, the man stammered.

Eric Foster? Leon’s eyebrow arched. Foster? Any relation to Elliot? Eric hesitated, then nodded. He’s my uncle.

I do some work for him. Nothing illegal, I swear. Just paperwork, errands.

Save it, Leon interrupted. Your uncle framed me, put me in prison, and hired people to kill me. I don’t care what your job description is…

What I care about is what you know. Eric’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, panic flashing across his face. I don’t know much.

He doesn’t tell me everything. Leon’s fist slammed onto the desk, rattling the papers and making Eric jump. Then tell me what you do know.

Eric recoiled, his hands trembling. Okay. Okay.

He’s been using Haven Enterprises to launder money and funnel bribes. He’s got people in the city council, law enforcement, even the courts. Anyone who gets in his way either gets bought off or disappears.

Leon’s jaw tightened. And what about me? Why did he target me? Eric hesitated, his eyes darting to the door again. Leon straightened, stepping closer, his presence looming.

Don’t make me ask twice, Eric. Eric let out a shaky breath. You… You were part of a deal that went bad.

Foster wanted to acquire some land for one of his developments, but the owners wouldn’t sell. You advised them, didn’t you? Told them how to protect their rights? Leon’s chest tightened. He remembered the case, a small community that Foster had tried to muscle out of their homes under the guise of urban development.

Leon had worked with them, pro bono, to block the deal. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d won, or so he’d thought. That’s why he came after me.

Leon muttered, the pieces clicking into place. I cost him millions. Eric nodded quickly.

He couldn’t risk you coming after him again. Said you were too good at digging up dirt, making waves, so he found a way to take you out of the picture. And the evidence he used to frame me? Leon pressed.

Eric swallowed hard. He’s got connections, dirty cops, shady lawyers. They planted the drugs in your car, set you up for distribution.

It was airtight. Leon’s fists clenched at his sides, his fury barely contained. And the iron fangs? Was that part of his plan, too? Eric nodded, his voice trembling.

Yeah, after you got locked up, he figured you’d find a way to survive. Said you were too stubborn to die on your own, so he paid Blaze and his crew to finish the job. Said it had to look like prison violence, nothing that could be traced back to him.

Leon exhaled slowly, his mind racing. Foster had orchestrated everything, pulling strings from the shadows to destroy his life. But now, Leon had the name, the motive, and the method.

Foster’s carefully constructed web was starting to unravel. Eric’s voice broke through his thoughts. Please, man, I told you everything I know.

Just let me go. Leon stared at him for a long moment, weighing his options. Eric was a pawn, but pawns could still be dangerous.

Finally, he nodded. Fine, but if you warn Foster, if you try to run, I’ll find you. And next time, we won’t be talking.

Eric nodded frantically, stumbling toward the door. You won’t hear from me, I swear. As the door slammed shut behind him, Leon sat back in the chair, his hands gripping the armrests tightly.

Foster had built his empire on lies, intimidation, and corruption. But now, Leon had what he needed to tear it all down. Tomorrow, the hunt would begin in earnest.

Foster wouldn’t see it coming. Leon sat in the quiet apartment, his mind racing as he laid out the papers he had taken from Haven Enterprises alongside the notes he had written. Each name, each connection, and every whispered lead painted a vivid picture of the corruption Elliot Foster had built his empire on.

The anger simmering inside Leon was tempered only by his laser-sharp focus. He wasn’t just going after Foster. He was going to dismantle everything the man had built.

The burner phone buzzed on the table, snapping Leon out of his thoughts. He grabbed it quickly, seeing Jessica’s name flash on the screen. Jessica, he said, answering immediately.

Leon, I found more on Haven Enterprises, Jessica said, her voice tense but steady. It’s worse than we thought. Foster’s been using it to hide everything.

Bribes to city officials, kickbacks to contractors, even payouts to gangs like the Iron Fangs. He’s got layers of people protecting him. Leon leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening.

I figured as much. He’s been operating like this for years, hasn’t he? Years, Jessica confirmed. But here’s the thing.

He’s gotten sloppy. Some of the payments haven’t been fully laundered, and I found a few that trace back to his personal accounts. If we can connect those payments to the people he’s hired, we can start building a case.

Leon nodded, his mind already forming a plan. We’ll need more than just payment trails. Foster’s got people in law enforcement, maybe even the courts.

If we take this to the wrong person, it’ll disappear before it ever sees the light of day. I know, Jessica said. That’s why I’ve been reaching out to a few trusted people I’ve worked with before.

If we can get enough hard evidence, we can bypass Foster’s network entirely. But it’s going to take time. Time isn’t something we have, Leon replied.

Foster knows I’m out, and he’s going to come after me. If we wait too long, he’ll bury everything before we can touch him. Jessica hesitated, then sighed.

You’re right. But we have to be smart about this. If you go charging in without a solid plan, he’ll find a way to spin it.

You need something undeniable. Leon’s eyes fell on the pile of papers in front of him, his gaze narrowing. I’ll get it.

Foster’s dirty money isn’t just sitting in accounts. It’s tied to people, places. If I can find one of those people and make them talk, we’ll have what we need.

Jessica’s voice dropped to a serious tone. You’re talking about direct confrontation, Leon. That’s dangerous.

Foster’s not just going to let someone close to him spill his secrets. I’m not waiting for permission, Leon said firmly. Foster sent people to kill me.

I’m not giving him the chance to do it again, Jessica exhaled slowly. Just promise me you’ll be careful. I’ve already started compiling everything I’ve found so far.

I’ll send it to you once it’s ready. But Leon, you’re walking into a hornet’s nest. You need to be sure you’re ready.

I’ve never been more ready, Leon said, his voice cold and certain. This isn’t just about me, Jessica. Foster’s hurt a lot of people, and it’s time he paid for it.

Leon spent the rest of the night mapping out his plan. The records he’d taken from Haven Enterprises included several names, contractors, middlemen, and low-level enforcers who had been on Foster’s payroll. One name stood out, Garrett Lang, a contractor who had been paid significant sums for security services.

It didn’t take much to guess what that really meant. Garrett’s address was listed on the paperwork, a warehouse on the outskirts of the city that doubled as his base of operations. Leon recognized the type, a place where deals were made in the shadows, far from prying eyes.

He packed a small bag, ensuring he had everything he needed. The shiv from prison was still tucked into his jacket, a grim reminder of how far he was willing to go. As he zipped up the bag, his mind drifted to the fight ahead.

Garrett wasn’t likely to talk willingly, but Leon had faced worse odds before. The warehouse was a hulking, shadowed structure surrounded by empty lots and chain-link fences. Leon parked his car a block away, moving quietly through the darkness as he approached.

The faint sound of voices and glow of a single light spilling out from the warehouse door told him he was in the right place. He slipped through a side entrance, his movements silent and calculated. Inside, the air was heavy with the smell of oil and stale cigarettes.

Garrett was easy to spot, a broad, rough-looking man standing near a table piled with cash and ledgers. Two other men flanked him, both armed, their laughter echoing through the cavernous space. Leon moved closer, staying in the shadows, his pulse steady.

This wasn’t a brawl in prison or a desperate fight for survival. This was something else, a calculated strike. He stepped into the light, his voice sharp and commanding.

Garrett lang. The room went silent as the three men turned toward him. Garrett’s eyes narrowed, his hand drifting toward the gun on his hip.

Who the hell are you? The man who’s about to make your life very difficult, Leon said, his voice cold as steel. Sit down, Garrett. We need to talk…

The room was heavy with tension as Leon stepped closer, his imposing figure framed by the dim, flickering overhead light. Garrett lang stiffened, his hand hovering near the gun on his hip. The two men flanking him shifted uneasily, their eyes darting between Leon and their boss.

I don’t know who you think you are, Garrett said, his voice gruff. But the slight tremor in his hand betrayed his confidence. But you’ve got about ten seconds to turn around and walk out of here before this gets messy.

Leon didn’t flinch, his gaze locked on Garrett. Messy is exactly what I’m looking for if you don’t sit down and start talking. One of the armed men stepped forward, his hand gripping the butt of his pistol.

You got a death wish, pal? In a blur of movement, Leon grabbed the nearest wrench from the workbench beside him and hurled it with precision. The heavy metal struck the man’s hand, knocking the gun to the floor. Leon followed up with a swift kick to the man’s stomach, sending him sprawling into the corner.

The second man hesitated, his grip tightening on his weapon. But Leon was already on him. He grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting it sharply until the gun clattered to the ground.

A sharp elbow to the temple left him crumpled on the floor next to his companion. Garrett didn’t move, his eyes wide as Leon turned his full attention to him. Your guys are down.

You’re next if you don’t sit your ass in that chair. For a moment, Garrett looked like he might resist. But the look in Leon’s eyes, cold, unrelenting, made him think twice.

He slowly lowered himself into the chair by the table, his hands raised in mock surrender. You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that, Garrett said, trying to mask his fear with a smirk.

But you’re playing a dangerous game. Leon pulled one of the fallen guns from the floor, ejecting the clip and tossing it aside. He leaned against the table, towering over Garrett.

The only game I’m playing is the one where I get answers. You’re on Foster’s payroll. You’ve been running security for his operations, cleaning up his messes.

Start talking, Garrett snorted, crossing his arms. You think I’m gonna rat on Foster? Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with? He’ll bury you. Leon grabbed the back of Garrett’s chair, dragging it forward with a screech that echoed through the warehouse.

He leaned in, his face inches from Garrett’s. You’re worried about Foster? You should be worried about me. I’ve got nothing to lose, Garrett.

And I don’t have time for games. Garrett’s bravado faltered, his smirk slipping. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Leon slammed his fist on the table, the sound reverberating through the space. Don’t lie to me. I know you’ve been handling his dirty work.

You’ve got two choices. Talk now, or I’ll make sure Foster knows you’ve been spilling his secrets. How long do you think you’ll last when he thinks you’ve flipped? The color drained from Garrett’s face, his resolve crumbling under Leon’s relentless glare.

All right. All right. Fine.

What do you want to know? Leon straightened, his expression hard. Start with why Foster wanted me out of the picture. Why go through the trouble of framing me and hiring a gang to finish the job? Garrett hesitated, his hands gripping the arms of the chair.

You cost him a fortune, man. That community you helped block his development, that was just the beginning. He was planning to expand, turn that whole area into some billion-dollar project, but you derailed it, and the investors backed out.

You embarrassed him. And the frame job? Leon pressed. Garrett nodded.

He needed you out of the way. Couldn’t risk you doing it again. He had the connections, cops, lawyers, judges.

It was easy for him to set you up, and once you were inside, he figured you’d be easy to handle. That’s where I came in. Leon’s jaw tightened, the iron fangs.

You coordinated that? Garrett swallowed hard. I handled the payments. Foster told me to keep it clean, make it look like typical prison violence.

Blaze and his crew were eager to take the money. They didn’t ask questions. Leon’s fists clenched at his sides, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

And now? What’s Foster planning next? Garrett hesitated, glancing toward the door as if expecting someone to burst in. He’s paranoid now that you’re out. He’s been shifting money, erasing records, covering his tracks.

He’s got some big meeting coming up, something about a new deal to secure his position. I don’t know the details, but if you want to catch him, that’s where you’ll find him. Leon leaned back, his mind racing.

Where’s the meeting? Garrett’s voice dropped to a whisper. An office building downtown? Top floor. It’s one of his properties.

But you didn’t hear that from me. Leon stepped back, his expression cold. You’re right.

I didn’t. Garrett sagged in the chair, relief washing over him as Leon turned toward the door. But Leon stopped, glancing over his shoulder.

If I hear you’ve warned Foster, I’ll be back. And next time, we won’t be talking. Garrett nodded quickly, his face pale.

You won’t hear a word from me. Leon walked out of the warehouse, his steps steady and his purpose clear. He had the location, the details, and the momentum.

Elliot Foster’s carefully constructed empire was about to crumble. The city’s skyline glimmered in the night, its towering buildings casting long shadows over the streets below. Leon sat in the darkened apartment, the faint glow of the burner phone screen illuminating his face as he reviewed the intel Jessica had sent him.

The details from Garrett matched what she’d uncovered. Elliot Foster was hosting a high stakes meeting in one of his office buildings downtown. It was a final move to secure his position, to lock down his network of bribes and deals before Leon could bring it all crashing down.

Leon set the phone down, his mind racing. This wasn’t just another step. It was the moment.

If he played this right, Foster wouldn’t just be exposed. He’d be ruined. But Foster wasn’t an idiot.

The man would have protection, layers of it. Leon would have to be ready for anything. Jessica arrived just before midnight, her expression as grim and focused as his.

She placed a laptop on the table and sat across from him, her tone brisk. I’ve got everything we need. Foster’s been using that building as a hub for his operations for years.

The top floor is essentially his private domain. Guards, secure servers, the works. Leon nodded, scanning the schematics she’d pulled up on the screen.

What’s the security like? Standard corporate during the But at night, it ramps up, she explained. Private security firm, ex-military types. Foster doesn’t trust just anyone.

There’s no walking in the front door unnoticed. Leon’s lips pressed into a thin line. Then I’ll have to find another way in.

Jessica frowned, her concern evident. Leon, this isn’t like dealing with Blaze or his gang. These people are professionals…

If they catch you, it won’t end well. Leon leaned back, his gaze steady. I don’t have a choice, Jessica.

If I don’t get to Foster tonight, he’ll bury everything. The money, the connections, it’ll all disappear, and I’ll be back to square one. Jessica sighed, rubbing her temples.

Alright, if you’re going to do this, let’s at least make sure you have the advantage. She pointed to the schematics. The building has a service entrance on the east side, usually used for late night deliveries.

It’s lightly guarded, but it’ll still get you inside. Leon studied the map, his mind piecing together the plan. Once I’m in, the elevator to the top floor requires a key card.

Jessica continued. Garrett said Foster will be in his private conference room. That means you’ll need to either take out one of his guards or find another way up.

The stairwell’s an option, but it’s monitored by cameras. Leon smirked faintly. Cameras can’t stop me.

Jessica shot him a look, half amused, half exasperated. They can alert the guards, so be careful. Over the next hour, they finalized the plan.

Jessica provided him with everything she could. Details on guard rotations, camera placements, and even a list of Foster’s known associates who might be present. As they worked, Leon’s determination only grew.

This wasn’t just about clearing his name anymore. It was about justice. For himself and everyone Foster had trampled in his pursuit of power.

Finally, Jessica leaned back, her expression softening. Leon, you don’t have to do this alone. I can call in some favors, get more people involved.

Leon shook his head. The more people know, the more chances Foster has to find out. This needs to be clean, quiet.

Jessica hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. Just promise me you’ll be careful. Foster’s not going to go down without a fight.

Leon’s smirk returned, this time with a hint of dark humor. Good. Neither am I. Before he left, Leon took a moment to prepare.

He packed lightly, a black duffel bag with a few essentials, gloves, a small flashlight, and the shiv he’d carried since prison. It wasn’t much, but Leon knew how to make the most of limited resources. He slipped into dark, nondescript clothing and checked his reflection in the mirror.

The man staring back at him looked older, harder, but there was no mistaking the fire in his eyes. This was the man Foster had tried to break, the man who refused to stay down. Jessica walked him to the door, her hand resting briefly on his arm.

I’ll be monitoring everything I can from here. If something goes wrong, call me. I mean it, Leon.

He nodded, his expression softening for just a moment. Thanks, Jessica, for everything. She gave him a faint smile, but worry lingered in her eyes as he stepped into the night.

Trace. The streets were quiet as Leon approached the building, sticking to the shadows. The office tower loomed above him, its sleek glass exterior reflecting the city lights.

To anyone else, it was just another corporate hub, but Leon knew better. This was the heart of Foster’s empire, a symbol of the man’s power and corruption. Leon circled to the east side, his steps silent as he approached the service entrance.

As Jessica had predicted, there was only one guard stationed outside. His posture relaxed. Leon moved swiftly, his training taking over.

Before the man could react, Leon had him in a chokehold, easing him to the ground without a sound. He grabbed the man’s keycard and slipped inside. The interior was dimly lit, the hum of the building’s systems filling the silence.

Leon’s movements were precise, his focus unwavering as he made his way toward the elevator. The real challenge was just beginning. The elevator doors slid open with a muted chime, revealing the opulent design of the top floor.

The space exuded wealth and power, polished marble floors, modern art on the walls, and a panoramic view of the city glowing in the night beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. But to Leon, it was all a facade, masking the rot beneath. This was the heart of Elliot Foster’s empire, and tonight it would begin to crumble.

Leon stepped out cautiously, the keycard he’d swiped from the guard still in his hand. He slipped it into his pocket, his sharp eyes scanning the hallway ahead. The silence was unnerving, but he knew better than to trust it.

Foster wouldn’t leave this space unprotected, especially not tonight. As Leon crept down the hall, he counted the doors, matching them to the floor plan Jessica had shown him. The conference room was at the far end, behind a pair of heavy double doors.

Between him and his target, however, were two guards, both standing near the entrance to the room. They were tall, broad-shouldered men, their stances alert, and their weapons visible beneath their jackets. Leon crouched behind a decorative planter, taking a moment to observe their movements.

They weren’t casual. They were scanning the area, occasionally speaking into their earpieces. Foster wasn’t taking any chances tonight.

Leon’s fingers brushed the handle of the shiv, tucked into his jacket, but he hesitated. A direct confrontation would be messy, loud, and would risk alerting Foster. He needed to be smarter than that.

His eyes flicked to a nearby emergency panel on the wall, an idea forming. He moved silently, sticking to the shadows, until he reached the panel. With careful precision, he pried it open and found what he was looking for.

A fire alarm control. It wasn’t the kind that would trigger a full evacuation, but it would create enough of a distraction to pull the guards away from their post. Leon pressed a button, and a sharp, beeping noise filled the air.

The guards immediately tensed, their hands moving to their weapons as they exchanged glances. Go check it out! one of them barked, nodding to his partner. The second guard moved toward the source of the sound, leaving his companion alone at the doors.

Leon seized the moment. Leon moved swiftly, closing the distance to the remaining guard in seconds. He struck with precision, a sharp jab to the man’s neck followed by a quick sweep of his legs.

The guard crumpled to the floor, stunned but still conscious. Before he could recover, Leon clamped a hand over his mouth and pressed the shiv to his throat. Don’t make a sound! Leon hissed, his voice cold and steady.

I’m not here for you. Where’s Foster? The guard’s eyes darted nervously to the double doors. In there? Leon pressed, applying just enough pressure to make his point.

The guard nodded frantically. Leon leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. How many are inside? Three, the guard muttered.

Foster and two more guards. That’s it. I swear.

Leon’s gaze hardened as he studied the man’s face, searching for any sign of deceit. Satisfied, he pulled the guard’s radio from his belt and smashed it against the floor before shoving him against the wall. Stay here.

Move, and you’ll regret it. The guard nodded quickly, his fear keeping him frozen in place. Leon turned his attention to the doors, his hand tightening around the shiv.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins sharpened his focus. Every sense heightened. He pressed his ear to the door, straining to catch the muffled voices on the other side.

Foster was speaking, his tone clipped and authoritative, but Leon couldn’t make out the words. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. This was it, the moment he had been working toward since the day he was framed.

Everything hinged on what happened next. Leon pushed the doors open just enough to slip inside, the conference room coming into view. It was as opulent as the rest of the floor, with a long mahogany table dominating the space and sleek monitors lining the walls.

Foster sat at the head of the table, his suit impeccable and his expression calm. He didn’t even look up as Leon entered, as if he were completely unaware of the intrusion. The two guards flanking him, however, reacted immediately, their hands flying to their weapons.

Don’t, Leon said sharply, his voice cutting through the room like a knife. He held the shiv in one hand and the guard’s pistol, which he had taken earlier, in the other. The barrel was pointed directly at Foster.

Unless you want your boss to take the first hit, Foster’s head lifted slowly, his gaze meeting Leon’s with a calm, almost amused expression. Mr. Carter, he said, his voice smooth and unbothered. I was wondering when you’d show up.

Leon stepped further into the room, his every movement calculated. I’ve had enough of your games, Foster. This ends tonight.

Foster leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Does it? Because, from where I’m sitting, you look like a desperate man with nothing to lose. Leon’s grip tightened on the pistol.

You’re right about one thing. I’ve got nothing to lose. But you? You’ve got everything…

He had no reason to be here. His testimony had been given weeks ago and Jessica had assured him that the evidence they’d provided was damning enough to secure a conviction. Still, he couldn’t stay away.

He needed to see it through, to hear the words that would officially close this chapter of his life. At the front of the courtroom, the prosecutor stood, her voice confident and sharp as she delivered her final argument. Elliott Foster believed he was untouchable.

He used his wealth, his influence, and his connections to manipulate the system, to ruin lives, and to silence anyone who got in his way. But today, we’ve proven that no one is above the law. The evidence is clear, the testimonies are undeniable, and justice demands a verdict of guilty.

The defense attorney rose, his face pale but composed as he began his rebuttal. Foster’s team had fought hard, throwing every technicality and loophole they could find at the prosecution. But even the most skilled legal maneuvering couldn’t erase the mountain of evidence stacked against them.

The recordings, the payment logs, the testimony from Foster’s own associates, it was all there, laid bare for the jury to see. Leon’s gaze drifted to Foster, who sat stiffly, his hands clasped tightly together. The man’s defiance had waned over the weeks of the trial, replaced by a quiet, simmering rage.

Leon could almost feel it from where he sat, but he didn’t care. Foster had underestimated him, and now he was paying the price. The jury returned after only two hours of deliberation, their verdict swift and unanimous.

As the foreperson stood, the tension in the room was palpable. On the charges of conspiracy, bribery, and attempted murder, the foreperson announced, her voice clear and steady, we find the defendant, Elliot Foster, guilty. A collective gasp rippled through the courtroom, followed by the hushed murmurs of spectators and reporters.

Foster’s shoulders slumped, the reality of his downfall crashing down on him like a tidal wave. His attorney leaned over, whispering furiously, but Foster didn’t respond. He stared straight ahead, his expression a mask of shock and defeat.

The judge’s gavel struck the bench, silencing the room. Sentencing will be determined at a later date, she said firmly. For now, the defendant will remain in custody.

Court is adjourned. As the courtroom began to empty, Leon remained seated, his eyes fixed on Foster as the bailiffs led him away in handcuffs. Their gazes met briefly, and for a moment, Leon saw the hatred burning in Foster’s eyes, but it didn’t matter.

The man was finished, his empire in ruins, his power stripped away. Jessica appeared at Leon’s side, her expression a mix of relief and satisfaction. It’s done, she said quietly.

He’s going away for a long time. Leon nodded, his voice calm. It’s not just about him, it’s about everyone he hurt.

The people who lost their homes, who were threatened or silenced. They deserved justice too. Jessica placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm, and they got it.

Because of you, Leon turned to her, his gaze steady. Because of us, I couldn’t have done this alone. She smiled faintly, but there was a seriousness in her tone.

So what now? You’ve cleared your name. Foster’s out of the picture. What’s next? Leon hesitated, his mind drifting to the scars left by the ordeal.

The fight had consumed him for so long, but now, for the first time in years, he felt free. I don’t know, he admitted, but I’m going to figure it out. Jessica nodded.

Whatever you decide, you know where to find me. Leon smiled faintly, the first genuine smile he’d felt in a long time. Thanks, Jessica, for everything.

As he stepped out of the courthouse, the sunlight hit him like a wave, warm and bright. The city stretched out before him, bustling with life, oblivious to the battle that had just been fought within its walls. Leon took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in months.

This wasn’t the end of the journey, it was a new beginning. The scars of what he’d endured would never fully fade, but they would serve as a reminder of what he’d fought for, of what he’d won. Elliot Foster’s empire was gone, and with it, the shadow that had loomed over Leon’s life.

Justice had been served, and now it was time to rebuild. Leon sat on the worn bench at the edge of the park, the sounds of the city buzzing faintly in the distance. The cool evening breeze brushed against his face, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly cut grass.

He hadn’t been here in years, not since before his life had been torn apart. It felt surreal to sit in the open air, without bars or walls closing in around him, free to breathe and think without fear. He let out a long, steady breath, leaning back against the bench as his gaze drifted to the horizon.

The trial was over. Foster was behind bars, and the weight that had pressed down on him for so long had finally lifted. For the first time in years, the fight was over.

But the scars of the battle lingered. Leon’s mind often wandered back to the prison, to the dark, suffocating halls, and the constant tension that came with knowing he was a marked man. The iron fangs, blaze, the nights spent wondering if he’d survived to see the morning, it all played in his mind like a reel he couldn’t turn off.

He clenched his fists unconsciously, the phantom sensation of the shiv still lingering in his grip. There had been moments in that place when he thought he might lose himself, when the fear and the anger threatened to overwhelm him. But somehow, he’d held on.

Somehow, he’d found the strength to keep fighting, to survive. Survive, he muttered to himself, the word hanging in the air. It wasn’t enough just to survive.

He’d learned that the hard way. Survival without purpose, without hope, wasn’t living. It was just existing.

And for a long time, that’s all he’d been doing. Existing, waiting for a chance to clear his name, to reclaim the life that had been stolen from him. Now, that chance had come.

Foster’s empire was gone, his network of corruption dismantled, the guards who turned a blind eye, the lawyers who twisted the truth, the judges who sold their verdicts. All of them were being investigated. Their connections to Foster laid bare.

And the Iron Fangs? The gang had been broken. Their leadership scattered in the aftermath of Blaze’s downfall. Justice had been served.

Not just for Leon, but for every person Foster had hurt, every life he’d tried to destroy in the name of greed. Leon’s thoughts turned to the prison again, to the faces of the men he’d fought and the few he’d reluctantly trusted. He thought of Jones, the guard who had given him hope when he thought he had none.

He wondered if Jones had heard about what had happened, if he’d ever know the role he’d played in helping Leon survive. He thought of the nights spent lying awake, listening to the taunts and threats echoing from the cells around him. He’d been terrified, but he hadn’t let it break him.

He’d fought back, not just against the men who came for him, but against the fear itself. And in doing so, he’d found a part of himself he thought he’d lost, the part that refused to give up, no matter how impossible the odds seemed. A soft voice broke his reverie.

Leon, he turned to see Jessica standing a few feet away. Her expression soft, but serious. She held two coffee cups, one of which she extended toward him.

Thought you might need this. Leon accepted the cup with a faint smile. Thanks.

She sat down beside him, her gaze following his toward the horizon. For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of everything they’d been through hanging between them. It’s strange, Leon said finally, his voice quiet.

I spent so long fighting to get here. To prove the truth. To clear my name.

And now that it’s over, I don’t know what to do next. Jessica took a sip of her coffee before replying. That’s normal.

You’ve been in survival mode for years, Leon. It’s going to take time to adjust, to figure out what comes next. But you’ve earned that time.

You’ve earned the chance to live. Leon nodded slowly, her words sinking in. I want to help, he said after a moment.

The men in prison. Some of them deserve to be there. But a lot of them, they were just like me, caught in a system that’s designed to chew them up and spit them out.

Maybe I can do something about that, Jessica smiled faintly. You’d be good at that. You’ve seen the system from the inside.

You know how broken it is, Leon exhaled, the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind. Yeah, and maybe, for the first time, I can stop surviving and start building something. For myself and for others.

Jessica placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding him. You’ve got a long road ahead. But if anyone can do it, it’s you.

Leon met her gaze, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips. I couldn’t have done any of this without you, Jessica. Thank you.

She shook her head. You didn’t need me, Leon. You just needed someone to remind you of who you are.

Leon turned back to the horizon, his chest rising and falling with a deep, steady breath. For the first time in years, he felt at peace. The scars of his ordeal would never fade completely, but they were no longer a burden.

They were a reminder of what he’d overcome, of the strength he’d found in himself. He wasn’t just free. He was alive.

And for the first time, he was ready to live. I hope you enjoyed that story.