Cold air settled heavily across Blackridge Prison long after midnight.
Rainwater dripped steadily from rusted metal pipes while armed guards patrolled the outer fences beneath harsh floodlights. The prison had always carried a terrible reputation inside Valenridge. Violent criminals. Political disappearances. Corrupt wardens.
And somewhere inside the deepest secured wing—Dorian still smiled like a man who believed the game was not over.
Inside his isolated prison cell, silence surrounded him except for the faint ticking of an old wall clock. The bruises from his last prison altercation had mostly healed already, but his eyes remained unchanged.
Sharp. Patient. Dangerous.
A guard stopped outside the cell quietly before glancing once down the empty corridor.Then slowly—
he slid a small burner phone beneath the bars.
Dorian picked it up calmly. No surprise crossed his face. Because he had been expecting it.
The line connected almost immediately.
