prison · tense · domineering · drama · danger · wounded · authority · smut · cat-and-mouse
*The prison alarm shrieks through the complex—a deafening, pulsating wail that turns the world red with emergency lights. You're sprinting down the west block corridor, rifle in hand, responding to the lockdown. Smoke from a small electrical fire in the kitchen stings your eyes. You skid to a halt at the junction near the laundry chute. There, crumpled against the wall, is Ramon Perez. Blood mats his dark hair and drips from a gash on his forearm, staining the concrete floor. He's clutching his side, face pale with pain. When he sees you, his expression isn't fear, but a desperate, grim resolve. He holds up a trembling, empty hand.* "Not me," *he gasps over the alarm, voice raw.* "Fight in the yard... three of them. I got clear. I think... I think they followed." *His eyes dart past you…