Chapter 5 Prison Doors

Anna's POV

“You're doomed, inmate . Nobody comes into this fortress and leaves without a strong connection to the higher up,” one of the officers said as he hauled me from the van.

My boots hit the concrete hard and I nearly fell, but the cuffs pulled me back and I found my balance.

“I’m innocent,” I said, because I had to say something. Even the word sounded small in that place.

“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “You gonna rot in here.”

He shoved me forward. My hands were numb where the cuffs bit my skin, but my head stayed clear. I had to keep it. Panic was loud and stupid.

Then my eyes caught the sight of a striking figure.

He stood near the entrance, cigar in his mouth, smoke drifting up like a flag.

He was tall. Eyes like dark glass. Something about his aura felt like death was staring right at me, but his good looks had my eyes fixed on him.

I wondered why he was staring at me like someone he knew, or perhaps someone he wants.

“I thought smoking isn't allowed within the prison walls?” I asked before I could catch myself. My voice sounded like a stranger’s.

The officer turned, his gaze landed on me before darting towards the direction of the mysterious man.

Then the officer’s face changed immediately. His jaw went tight. “Rules don’t apply to him,” the man said, and then he asked the other officer, too scared to finish the name: “Is that… Xavier?”

The second officer mumbled something, his jaw tight.

“Don’t look at him,” he hissed at the first.

“But, why is he here?” the other whispered back, his grip on my arm slipping for a moment.

“I don’t know,” the first officer said quickly, “but if Xavier’s in this fortress, it’s not good for us. Move, before we’re caught standing in his way.”

They hurried me along, their boots striking the ground faster than before.

My wrists ached in the cuffs, but my mind wasn’t on the pain. That name—Xavier. They said it like it like it was more dangerous than the fortress itself.

I tilted my head toward them. “Who is he?” I asked. My voice came out sharper than I intended. “What are you so afraid of?”

The first officer glared at me, his face pale. “Keep your mouth shut, girl. You don’t want to know.”

The second officer snorted bitterly. “She’ll find out soon enough. Nobody forgets a stare from Xavier.”

I glanced back again. He hadn’t moved, still standing there with smoke curling lazily around him.

The officers yanked me forward, almost tripping me. “Faster,” one barked, his voice cracking. “We need to clear the area before—” He cut himself off, swallowing hard.

Before what?

They herded me through a maze of metal doors and into a room where they made me strip.

I felt every eye on my skin as I stepped out of my clothes. They shoved a prison uniform at me. They took my picture, name, and fingerprints.

But it wasn’t the prison that made the hairs on my arms rise, it was the way the guards kept looking at each other.

One of them grabbed the arm of a colleague passing by. “You saw him?” he whispered.

The man stiffened. “Xavier?”

The first nodded quickly, his eyes darting toward the entrance.

The second guard went pale. His hand tightened on his baton until his knuckles whitened. “God help us… what the hell is he doing here?”

“I don’t know,” the first muttered, lowering his voice even more. “But if he’s inside Iron Fortress, it means blood. He never comes unless someone’s head is about to roll.”

They exchanged glances like children caught in a storm.

I frowned, the name circling in my head like a riddle.

Two more guards leaned against a wall, voices sharp and hushed.

“Maybe someone important got caught up,” one said.

Both shivered at the thought.

It clicked in my mind then.

My guess? A mafia don.

"Come with me," one of the officers said. "I would show you your cell."

I shook my head. "I need to make a call," I pleaded. "I can't stay here, I'm innocent."

"You're wasting your time, girl. No one can get you out of here," he replied, his tone deep.

I swallowed. "You don't understand, I wasn't even charged to court, that's evil."

He turned to face me, his eyes blazing. "No, you don't understand. You're in the dead zone."

I swallowed hard. "No, it can't be. There must be a way out."

He didn't answer, he just led me to my cell.

It was small and cold and smelled like rotten fish.

Five women stared at me from the bunks. They looked like they had been waiting for a new prey to feast on.

One of them, tall, braided hair, dark eyes, stood and stepped forward. “New meat,” she said, spitting.

Her voice had no softness. “Kneel, bitch. Kiss my feet. Or we make you pay.”

I stayed silent. If I argued, they would punish me faster.

I kept my voice low. “I don’t kneel.”

One laughed, sharp and cruel. “She’s got a mouth. Let’s cut it off."

Another shook her head. “No. Fresh blood is better when you wait. She’ll be begging in a day.”

The third one grinned, holding up a sharpened piece of metal. “Why wait? Let’s see how loud she screams now.”

The tall one shoved her back. “I give the orders here.” Then she turned to me. “You won’t last an hour in here.”

They closed in. Two of them reached under their beds and pulled out things wrapped in cloth: small blades, pieces of metal polished into points.

Their hands were steady. They were used to taking what they wanted.

I felt the cuff chain at my waist. I kept my breath even. Fear tried to climb my throat, but I pushed it down.

“Please,” I said, not pleading but buying time. “You don’t have to do this.”

The tall woman smiled like she had teeth made of knives. “Shut up and kneel.”