The cold cell wall pressed against my back as I sat in darkness, trying to make sense of my surroundings. Three days had passed since Lucas Dillon had locked in this hellhole. My only company was the occasional rat scurrying across the floor and the distant screams of other prisoners.
"Isabelle," I whispered her na like a prayer. "I'll get back to you. I swear it."
The sound of approaching footsteps broke my reverie. Keys jangled outside my cell door before it swung open, flooding the small space with harsh light.
"Up, Knight," barked a guard I didn't recognize. "You've got visitors."
Visitors? Hope and suspicion warred in my chest as I was roughly yanked to my feet and shackled. Who would be allowed to see in this secret prison?
The guard marched down a long corridor lined with identical tal doors. Each one, I knew, held soone like —soone who had crossed the wrong people.
We entered a sparse room containing only a tal table and three chairs. The guard shoved into one and secured my chains to a ring bolted to the floor.
"Don't try anything stupid," he warned before stepping outside.
Minutes later, the door opened again. My jaw clenched as Uncle Armando of the Thornton family strolled in, followed by the heavyset prison administrator, Gage Mcbride.
"Well, well," Armando sneered, circling like a vulture. "The great Liam Knight, reduced to this. How fitting."
I remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.
Armando leaned in close, his expensive cologne unable to mask the stench of corruption. "Conrad sends his regards. He wanted to check how you're enjoying your accommodations."
"Tell Conrad he's welco to visit himself," I replied evenly. "If he ever finds the courage."
A flash of anger crossed Armando's face before he regained his composure. "Brave words from a man in chains. But bravery won't help you now."
Mcbride stood silently by the door, watching our exchange with cold, calculating eyes.
"You know," Armando continued, pacing around the table, "this reminds of a dog we had when I was a child. Vicious thing, always barking, thinking it was powerful." He paused for effect. "Until my father put it down."
I t his gaze steadily. "Is there a point to this visit beyond poor taphors?"
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Actually, yes. I ca to inform you that while you're rotting in here, we'll be paying visits to those you care about."
My blood ran cold.
"Your forr father-in-law, William Sterling, has been quite uncooperative lately. And that charming Pavilion Master—what was her na? Mariana?"
I fought to keep my face neutral as he continued.
"Oh, and we mustn't forget your precious Isabelle Ashworth. Such a beautiful woman." Armando's eyes glead with malice. "Conrad has always admired beautiful things."
Sothing snapped inside . The chains rattled as I lunged forward, my spiritual power surging despite the restraints designed to suppress it. "Touch her and I'll tear your heart out!"
Armando stumbled back, startled by the sudden flash of power that emanated from my body. A thin cut appeared on his cheek, blood seeping from where my spiritual energy had lashed out.
"You—" he sputtered, touching his face in shock. "How did you—"
"That's enough," Mcbride stepped forward, his voice hard as steel. "Armando, I think your visit is concluded."
Armando wiped away the blood, his expression darkening. "This animal needs to be put in his place. Move him to the public cells where the other dogs can teach him so manners."
Mcbride nodded slowly. "Perhaps that would be best."
Armando straightened his jacket, trying to regain his dignity. "Rember this, Knight—no one escapes from here. No one even knows you're here." He headed for the door, then looked back. "By the ti we're done, no one will rember your na at all."
After they left, guards dragged back to my cell. Hours later, they returned to move as Armando had ordered.
The public cell block was vast and crowded, filled with the stench of unwashed bodies and despair. At least thirty n occupied the space, all wearing the sa gray prison garb, all bearing the unmistakable aura of martial artists.
The guard shoved in. "Fresh at, boys," he announced before slamming the barred door behind . Find thе trаnslаtiоn оn
Dozens of eyes turned to assess . So n lounged on bunks stacked three-high along the walls. Others stood in small groups, conversations dying as they took my asure.
I straightened my shoulders and t their stares, refusing to show weakness.
"Another one for the collection," soone muttered.
An old man with a white beard approached . "New arrival, eh? What's your cri, son?"
"Existing," I replied tersely.
He chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "Aren't we all guilty of that? I'm Saul. Been here eight years."
"Eight years?" I couldn't hide my shock.
Saul nodded grimly. "This isn't a regular prison. This is where they put martial artists they want to forget." He gestured around the room. "Grandmasters, elders, forr sect leaders—anyone who beca inconvenient to the powerful."
Looking around, I realized he was right. Despite their disheveled appearance, I could sense the spiritual power emanating from many of the inmates.
"Don't bother planning an escape," Saul continued quietly. "The walls are inscribed with suppression formations. Even Martial Saints would struggle to break them."
Hope drained from like water through fingers. If these n—many clearly more powerful than —had been trapped for years, what chance did I have?
"The tall one by the corner is a forr elder of the Crimson Fla Sect," Saul pointed discreetly. "The twins were assassins for the Harding family. That massive fellow was once bodyguard to the Governor of Eldoria."
I absorbed this information, trying to understand the landscape of power in this prison.
Suddenly, a commotion broke out on the far side of the cell. Three muscular n surrounded a smaller, frail-looking figure, shoving him roughly.
"I told you that's my spot, Greene," growled the largest of the three. "Move your pathetic ass before I break it."
The victim stumbled, falling to his knees. As his face turned toward , recognition flashed through my mind.
Eamon Greene. The businessman I'd helped months ago.
"Please," he pleaded, "I wasn't trying to—"
A kick to his ribs cut off his words. The attacker, clearly a Grandmaster despite his imprisonnt, laughed cruelly.
"In here, your family na ans nothing. You're just another weak piece of trash."
Sothing stirred inside —a protective rage I couldn't suppress. Without conscious thought, I moved across the cell.
"That's enough," I said, my voice carrying across the suddenly quiet space.
The three attackers turned, surprised at the interruption.
"Mind your own business, new blood," the leader sneered. "Unless you want your first day to be your last."
I stood my ground. "I said enough."
The man abandoned Eamon and squared up to . "You don't know who I am, do you?"
"I don't care," I replied simply.
He lunged at with surprising speed, his fist aid at my face. To the other inmates, it must have seed like he simply passed through —until he crashed to the floor behind where I'd been standing.
I hadn't even appeared to move.
His two companions attacked simultaneously. This ti, I didn't bother with subtlety. I caught the first man's wrist, twisting until bones cracked. He howled in pain as I kicked the second attacker's knee sideways with a sickening pop.
The leader scrambled to his feet, fear replacing arrogance in his eyes.
"You—" he began.
I didn't let him finish. Moving with deadly precision, I swept his legs and drove my elbow into his knee as he fell. The joint shattered, eliciting a scream that echoed through the cell block.
The entire confrontation had taken less than ten seconds.
I stood over the three broken n, my voice ice-cold as I addressed the now-silent room. "Anyone else want to test ?"
No one moved. No one spoke.
Turning to Eamon Greene, I extended my hand and helped him to his feet. "Are you alright?"
He stared at in disbelief. "Liam Knight? Is that really you?"
I nodded slightly.
"They said you were a murderer," he whispered. "That you killed innocent people."
"Do you believe that?" I asked quietly.
Eamon shook his head. "Never. Not after what you did for my family."
I looked around at the watching inmates. "I don't want trouble. But I won't stand by while the strong prey on the weak. Not even in here."
Saul approached, eyeing with new respect. "Those three were Grandmasters, boy. Yet you broke them like twigs."
I shrugged. "They needed to learn a lesson."
"And what lesson is that?" ca a voice from the back of the cell. A massive man stepped forward, his presence commanding attention.
I t his gaze steadily. "That even in hell, there are rules."
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