CHAPTER 09

Elijah Vaughn

The three of them froze. For a moment, time stood still. Then, as if jolted by electricity, they sprang into action. Two of them lunged at each other, fists trembling and clumsy. The third—the skinny boy—stumbled backward in terror.

The blows were wild and desperate. The larger man landed a punch to his opponent’s face, sending him stumbling back, blood spraying from his mouth. The crowd roared. Shouts of encouragement mixed with the dry, brutal sound of fists colliding with flesh.

The boy hesitated, eyes frantic as he searched for a way out, until a second gunshot tore through the air. His body flinched. With no other choice, he rushed toward the two fighters.

Fear was written all over their faces. They weren’t fighting for glory. They were fighting because they had no choice.

The strongest man grabbed the weaker one by the throat and squeezed hard, his eyes burning with blind fury.

The smaller prisoner kicked and scratched, trying to break free, but his movements slowed with every passing second. The sounds of choking blended with the crowd’s ecstatic cheers. "Kill him! "Finish it already!"

My vision blurred. My stomach turned violently.

Seeing an opening, the skinny boy lunged at the brute, sinking his teeth into his shoulder. The scream of pain was swallowed by the noise, but the attacker wasted no time retaliating. With a brutal shove, he sent the boy flying. Blood stained his shoulder.

The crowd went wild.

The choking man collapsed to the ground, coughing uncontrollably. But relief was short-lived. The boy didn’t stop. Eyes wide, body overtaken by panic, he pounced and began punching him over and over again. Blood splattered across the cement. His fists rose and fell, blinded by survival instinct.

The brute, now recovered, kicked the boy off, sending him sprawling.

Now there were two left.

The smaller one tried to back away, his eyes searching for a way out that didn’t exist. His opponent, merciless, kicked him in the head with full force.

The crack echoed.

The boy stopped moving.

And the yard erupted in celebration.

The victor raised his arms, panting, his face smeared with blood and sweat. A guard stepped forward, clearly pleased.

I couldn’t breathe. My eyes were locked on the scene in disbelief. I had just witnessed a murder—and no one cared. This wasn’t a fair fight.

It was a slaughter.

A shiver crawled up my spine.

My heart thundered in my chest.

Fox noticed my distress, watching me with a blank expression.

My fingers gripped my knees, trying to stop the trembling.

I shouldn’t be here.

Then I felt it.

A presence—heavy and suffocating.

I turned my head slowly, and my body froze.

The Reaper was watching me.

The distance between us was wide, but his dark gaze pierced straight through me, down to my soul.

The world disappeared.

The noise of the prisoners faded.

My heart nearly stopped when a slight smile curled on his lips. I shuddered when he stood.

The entire yard fell silent.

Not a whisper.

The air grew thick, suffocating.

My breathing became erratic.

Without realizing it, I grabbed Fox’s hand, my fingers digging into his skin. The Reaper walked toward me—slow, steady steps, never breaking eye contact.

When he finally stopped in front of me, his voice was cold and merciless.

"Now that the fight’s over… we can go, little bunny."

Fear spread through my veins like poison.

Go? Go where? What did he mean?

My mind screamed at me to run, but my legs wouldn’t move.

I looked to Fox for help, but he simply shook his head.

My breath hitched when the Reaper took my hand and yanked it hard. I lost my balance and nearly fell, but before I hit the ground, he caught me firmly.

His warm breath brushed my ear as he murmured,

"I’ve waited long enough." My patience is over."

My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst.

My mind tried to make sense of it all, but I didn’t even have time to react. In one swift motion, the Reaper lifted me and threw me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing. The air left my lungs.

Pânico explodiu dentro de mim.

My eyes sought Fox, silently begging for help.

He only watched me, and just before we left the yard, I saw his lips move:

"Good luck, rookie."

The urge to cry overwhelmed me.

Humiliation burned my skin as the inmates laughed and whispered, their cruel smiles digging into me like knives. They were enjoying the show—at my expense.

But fear outweighed any shame. As he carried me down the hallway like a rag doll, I began to whisper desperate prayers, begging God to strike him down or, by some miracle, change his mind and let me go.

"You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment, Elijah." His voice dripped with satisfaction.

My body turned to ice.

He knew my name.

My mind spiraled into chaos.

How?

Why?

Fox had been with me the entire time, even in the kitchen. There was no way he could’ve told him. So how did this monster know who I was?

The panic only deepened as I realized where he was taking me: the black-uniform wing.

My heart pounded out of control. Each of his steps dragged me further into terror. The corridor seemed to narrow, the walls closing in as we moved without hesitation.

When we reached a cell, my eyes filled with tears. Fear was already flowing freely down my face, burning my skin. Every part of me screamed to run—but there was nowhere to go.

The world spun as he tossed me onto the bed. The impact knocked the air from my lungs, pain radiating through my body. I tried to move, but before I could react, his oppressive presence loomed over me. The weight of it crushed me, making any escape feel hopeless.

"You're not leaving this room tonight, my little bunny."

His voice was low, laced with a dark, twisted desire that sent my stomach plummeting—dragging with it the last traces of hope.