Chapter 8: The Price of Loyalty**
In prison, a predator who shows mercy is seen as wounded prey. By Tuesday afternoon, Diaz and the yard gang saw Kane’s change of heart as an unforgivable sign of weakness.
"He's gone soft," Diaz hissed during yard recreation, surrounded by four enforcers. "He let an old timer punk him out over a piece of fruit. The guards are laughing at us. The South Block thinks we're clowns."
"Kane was the muscle, Diaz," another whispered. "If he won't lead, someone else has to."
"Then we take him out," Diaz sneered, tucking a razor-sharp plastic shank inside his waistband. "And we start with the old judge to prove our point."
May you like
Arthur sat under the shelter of the recreation awning, watching the gray clouds gather over the razor wire. He noticed the shifting formations of the inmates, the subtle nods, the guards deliberately looking the other way. A storm was coming—not of rain, but of blood.
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