Chapter 2: The Ghost in the Uniform

Word of Victor’s humiliation spread like wildfire. The balance of power in Blackwood had shattered overnight. Inmates who once bowed to Victor began whispering in the shadows, while Victor locked himself in his cell, burning with a desire for bloody revenge.

But something else was happening. David went right back to being the polite, helpful guard. He brought medicine to the sick, he spoke softly, and he smiled. Yet, nobody dared to mistake it for weakness anymore. They realized his kindness wasn't a lack of power; it was a choice. It was the mask of a predator choosing not to hunt.

Inside the Warden’s private office, the atmosphere was suffocating. Warden Harris stared at David across a mahogany desk.

"You shouldn't have done that, David," Harris said, his hands trembling slightly as he lit a cigarette. "You drew too much attention. People are going to start digging into your past."

"Let them dig, Warden," David replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "Carter was crossing a line. I maintain order."

"Order?!" Harris snapped. "You are a ghost! If the Bureau finds out why you are really here, we are both dead."

Later that night, during the 2:00 AM lockdown, a riot suddenly erupted in Block C. Fire alarms blared, and the cell doors mysteriously unlocked due to a "system glitch." It was a setup. Victor Carter had used his outside connections to sabotage the security grid.

Armed with makeshift shanks, Victor and five of his heaviest enforcers cornered David in a blind spot of the prison's corridor—where the cameras had conveniently gone dark.

"You embarrassed me in front of my men," Victor growled, flipping a razor-sharp blade in his hand. "Tonight, you leave this prison in a body bag."

May you like

The screech of metal on metal echoed through the dimly lit commuter car...

The wall-sized monitor in Victor Hale’s private penthouse suite flickere...

LEFT ME TO DIE FOR A LEATHER BAG: What My Husband Found In The Living Ro...

David stood alone in the dark corridor, flanked on both sides. He unclipped his radio and dropped it to the floor. Then, he unbuttoned his top collar, revealing a faint, jagged scar on his collarbone—a scar shaped like a military insignia.

"I gave you a chance to live a quiet life, Victor," David said, his eyes turning cold as ice. "You shouldn't have turned off the cameras."