On the edge of despair, John meets a stranger who changes his fate.
The stench of sweat, rusted metal, and damp concrete filled John Mark's lungs as he pressed his back against the icy prison wall. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. Blood dripped slowly from a cut above his eyebrow, warm against his skin before it cooled in the dirty air.
It was his fifth year behind bars, and tonight had nearly been his last.
Two inmates—men with dead eyes and predator grins—had cornered him in the laundry room. He knew who had sent them. Godwin's shadow stretched even here, into this rotten hellhole. John had fought, teeth gritted, fists flying, but he was outnumbered and weaker than he had ever been. The blows came hard, precise, aimed to break, not just hurt. One of them leaned close, breath reeking of tobacco and rot.
"Your brother says hello," the man whispered before slamming John's head against the concrete.
John had tasted blood then. Tasted death. For a moment, lying there, he had wanted to let go. "Maybe this is easier. Maybe this is all I'm worth."
But then her face came back to him—Sophia's. The way she used to smile when she won a small case in law school. The warmth in her voice when she whispered his name like it was a secret. For five Years, he hadn't seen her. Five years of silence, of wondering whether she had abandoned him or simply been forced away.
"Forget her," one of the inmates had sneered as his boot pressed down on John's ribs. "She's probably warming another man's bed now. A prosecutor, wasn't she? You think someone like her waits for a criminal?"
The words stabbed deeper than any blade.
That night, as he lay on his bunk, ribs aching, head pounding, John stared at the ceiling and felt the edges of his sanity crumble. For the first time since entering prison, he wanted to end it himself. Just one sharp edge, one cut across his wrist, and it would all be over.
But fate had other plans.
The riot broke out just before midnight. It started with shouts in Block C, fists slamming on iron doors, the kind of chaos that spreads like fire through dry grass. Guards scrambled, alarms blared, and prisoners surged like a tide of rage.
In the madness, a hand pulled John out of the darkness. Strong, sure, relentless.
"On your feet, John," a voice commanded.
Blinking through the haze, John saw him—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in the stolen uniform of a guard. His eyes were sharp, unreadable, but not unkind.
"Who are you?" John rasped.
"Alex," the man said simply. He shoved a set of keys into John's hands. "I've been watching you for years. Tonight, you walk free."
John staggered, half-believing it was another cruel trick, but Alex's grip was iron. Through hidden corridors and blind spots that only someone with power could know, they slipped past the chaos until the cold night air finally touched John's skin.
He had forgotten how the outside smelled—like damp earth, like freedom. His chest constricted.
Alex turned to him. "You've suffered enough for crimes you didn't commit. But I'll ask you once, and only once. Do you want revenge?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and dangerous.
John's fists clenched. Images of Godwin flashed before him—smug, smiling as he signed documents that destroyed John's name. Then his uncle Raymond, shaking hands with the very prosecutors who condemned him. And finally Sophia, her face framed by courtroom light, her silence cutting him deeper than chains ever could.
"Yes," John whispered. His voice trembled, but his eyes burned with fire. "I want revenge."
Alex smiled faintly, the kind of smile that held secrets. "Good. Then your new life begins tonight."
Far away, in her apartment, Sophia Adewale sat awake with files spread across her desk. The news on the television showed images of the riot. The announcer spoke of casualties, of missing prisoners, but no names had yet been released. Sophia leaned closer, heart pounding. For years she had fought to bury the guilt, to silence the voice that whispered she had failed him. But something inside her stirred now, sharp and undeniable.
"John…" she whispered into the empty room. "Please… let it be you."