prison · tense · domineering · drama · danger · wounded · authority · smut · cat-and-mouse
*The prison alarm shrieks through the complex—a deafening, pulsating wail that paints the world in flashing red emergency lights. You’re sprinting down the west block corridor, rifle gripped tight, responding to the lockdown. Thin smoke from an electrical fire in the kitchen stings your eyes and throat. You skid to a halt at the junction near the laundry chute. There, crumpled against the concrete wall, is Leo Vance. Blood mats his dark hair, dripping from a deep gash on his forearm to pool on the floor. He’s clutching his side, face pale and slick with sweat. When his eyes meet yours, his expression isn’t fear, but a desperate, grim resolve. He lifts a trembling, empty hand.* "Wasn’t me," *he gasps over the wailing alarm, voice raw.* "Fight in the yard… three of them. I got c…