-Raine Archer:
Blackgate Prison loomed like a beast carved from stone and steel, its towering walls stretching high into the sky, swallowing the weak morning light.
From the moment we stepped onto its grounds, the weight of the place settled over me—thick, oppressive, suffocating.
The main gates were lined with barbed wire, the metal glinting like the teeth of a predator. Armed guards stood at every corner, their eyes sharp, their fingers twitching near the triggers of their rifles. Surveillance cameras were mounted along the walls, tracking every movement, leaving no blind spots.
This wasn't just a prison. It was a fortress.
Elias walked beside me in silence, his expression unreadable. Behind us, Captain Denton led the way, his boots crunching against the gravel as we approached the inner security checkpoint.
A guard stood there, stone-faced, clad in full tactical gear.
"Identification," he said flatly.
Denton pulled out his badge. "Captain Denton."
I followed suit, handing over my ID, and Elias did the same.
The guard examined them thoroughly before scanning us one by one. Once cleared, he stepped aside and pressed a button on the wall. The massive iron doors groaned as they slid open, revealing the prison's inner depths.
I exhaled. Time to see the monsters.
The Male Ward
The moment we stepped inside, the stench hit me. Sweat, filth, blood, and decay.
Rows of cells lined the corridors, each one stuffed with inmates. They pressed themselves against the bars, leering, sneering, whispering. Some were grinning, revealing rotting teeth. Others sat in the shadows, their gazes predatory, their silence more unsettling than the jeers of the others.
Half-blooded demons reject from the Undercity, the worst of the worst.
One of them—a wiry man with jagged scars along his throat—tilted his head as we passed. His eyes were solid black, endless pits of nothingness.
"Fresh meat," he rasped, a grin stretching his cracked lips.
I didn't react.
Elias, however, stiffened beside me.
Denton kept walking, unbothered. "Ignore them. They're just testing you."
I already knew that. It didn't make it any less disgusting.
The Female Ward
Compared to the male section, the female ward was eerily empty.
Ten.
That was the total number of women here. Ten.
They didn't move when we entered. Didn't speak. Didn't even acknowledge our presence.
A few sat on the edge of their bunks, staring at the walls with dead eyes. One of them had long white hair that spilled down her back, her face completely blank. Emotionless. Empty.
Another, a woman with scars running down her arms, sat cross-legged on the floor, drawing on the ground with a tiny piece of chalk.
None of them spoke.
I wasn't sure if that was better or worse than the male ward.
But either way, this wasn't what we came here for.
I turned to Denton. "Where are the new prisoners?"
His lips curled into something between a smirk and a grimace. "Follow me."
The Maximum Security Wing
The deeper we went, the colder it got.
Guards were stationed at every corner. Their hands gripped their weapons a little too tightly, their eyes shifting with barely concealed unease.
Something about this place wasn't just secure. It was unnatural.
At the end of the corridor stood a thick iron door reinforced with rune-marked chains.
Denton stopped in front of it, pulling out a keycard. He swiped it through the scanner, then leaned forward for a retinal scan.
The door clicked.
Then the locks groaned as they disengaged, and the metal creaked open.
A single room stretched before us.
Dimly lit. Walls lined with enchanted chains.
And in the center, a massive steel cell.
Inside sat four men.
They didn't move.
They didn't speak.
They just watched.
The First One
Denton gestured to the one in the middle.
Long black hair. Pale skin. Unmoving posture.
His eyes—deep, black.
Something about him made the air feel thicker. Like he wasn't just sitting in the room—he owned it.
Denton's voice was even. "Damon Voss."
He didn't react to the name.
But I felt it—the weight of his presence pressing down on my spine.
Even if he wasn't their leader, the space seemed to bend around him.
The Giant
Denton pointed next to a mountain of a man.
Brown skin, broad shoulders, thick arms, and a solid frame that looked like it could break a person in half without trying.
His hands rested on his knees, fingers loosely curled. Unlike the others, he didn't feel tense or restless—he felt patient.
Waiting.
"This one is Jaxon Reyes."
Jaxon exhaled, slow and deep. His brown eyes met mine, and for a second, I felt like I was staring at something immovable.
The Angry One
Long black hair. Shaved sides.
His fists were clenched so tightly I could see his knuckles turning white. His jaw was tight.
He was seated, but his entire body radiated tension.
Like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
"Kai Sorrentino."
His eyes flicked to Denton, then back to me. They burned.
Not with fire, but with something just as violent.
The Quiet One
The last one was the most out of place.
Red long hair. Glasses.
A book rested in his lap. He wasn't reading it.
His fingers were lightly curled around the edges, but he hadn't turned a page since we walked in.
Denton's tone remained neutral. "Luca Moreau."
Luca didn't even glance up. Didn't move.
But something about him was off.
The others had clear presences—Damon's quiet dominance, Kai's barely contained rage, and Jaxon's unwavering patience.
Luca?
I wasn't sure.
His silence was different.
Not eerie like Damon's. Not heavy like Jaxon's. Not boiling like Kai's.
Just… off.
The introductions ended, and a thick silence settled over the room.
The four prisoners sat in complete stillness.
They hadn't spoken. Hadn't reacted.
They had just… watched.
I exhaled slowly.
This mission was only beginning.
But something in my gut told me—these four would change everything.
Denton took a step forward, his voice low.
"This," he said, "is your mission."
I glanced at Elias. He wasn't looking at Denton. He was looking at him.
One of the prisoners.
And the man who seemed to be the leader, Damon Voss was looking right back at him.