CHAPTER 01

Elijah Vaughn

The boat rocked over the dark waters, cutting through the sea toward my worst nightmare. Lined up with other convicts, I felt the icy wind biting at my skin.

My eyes stung from crying. There were no tears left—just a growing void in my chest.

It was unbelievable.

Inferno Bay.

The most feared destination in the world.

A prison where the worst of the worst were thrown to rot. A pit of no return, home to ruthless murderers, deranged psychopaths, and bloodthirsty gangsters. But I wasn’t one of them. I had never committed a crime.

I closed my eyes. The memory of the trial returned like a blade slicing through my soul.

I had been escorted into the courtroom, hands cuffed, heart pounding like it was trying to escape reality. I lifted my head and saw them sitting there.

My parents.

My girlfriend.

My brother.

Their eyes brimmed with disgust—as if they were staring at a monster.

The judge didn’t even bother to listen. I pleaded; I begged. It was useless.

''Elijah Vaughn, you are hereby sentenced to ten years in the maximum-security prison Inferno Bay.”

The world crumbled. My body trembled. My breath caught in my throat. My heart shattered.

I knew what that meant. Inferno Bay wasn’t just a prison. No one came out alive.

Back in the present, I stared at the silhouette of the prison approaching. A fortress of iron and concrete, its walls so high they seemed to reach the sky. Fear spread through my body like venom.

The boat stopped.

Uniformed guards stood in line, ready to receive us. A deep voice echoed—cold and indifferent:

''Welcome to Hell. There’s no room for weakness here. Just one rule: try not to die.”

A chill ran down my spine. My legs felt rooted to the floor. The sea behind me was now just a memory of freedom I’d never have again. Then, the iron gates creaked open.

The handcuffs were removed, but the sensation of being imprisoned clung to my skin. The environment was cold and sterile, illuminated by stark white lights that only heightened the emptiness. Armed guards watched our every move.

''Strip,” came the command, slicing through the silence like a whip.

Humiliation washed over us. No one moved. The silence stretched—until one prisoner beside me was punched hard in the face, collapsing to the ground as blood dripped from his chin.

''I said take your fucking clothes off!” The guard barked.

Fear spread like wildfire. Shaking hands tugged at shirts. We had no choice. One by one, we undressed—exposed beneath the merciless stares of the wardens.

They examined us like animals being lined up for slaughter.

''On all fours,” another voice ordered, emotionless. ''We need to make sure you’re not hiding drugs.”

Shame burned like fire. I wanted to scream, to vanish—but there was no way out. I clenched my eyes shut and obeyed. We all did. Agonizing minutes passed until we were finally allowed to stand again.

''Good.”

One of the guards walked between us.

''Uniforms are color-coded. White for minor crimes like theft or kidnapping. Orange for serious offenses—murder, assault, trafficking. Black is for the worst of the worst: mafia bosses, human traffickers, organ dealers... society’s trash.”

Each word hit like a punch to the gut.

''Now move.”

Another guard began handing out uniforms. My heart pounded. I already knew what color I’d be given.

Orange.

The mark of injustice.

A permanent stamp turning me into something I never was.

The line moved forward.

The weight of my sentence pressed tighter around my neck like a noose.

Why did Sabrina accuse me?

What had I done to deserve this?

None of it made sense.

My turn came.

The guard checked his clipboard and spoke flatly.

''Orange.”

My lungs burned.

My chest tightened.

The fabric hit my palms, and in that moment, I knew my life would never be the same again.

With trembling hands, I put it on. The coarse texture of the uniform against my skin choked out the last of my hope. I tried to take a deep breath.

The guard looked us over.

''There are two wings: left and right.”

Then his gaze landed on me.

''You.”

He pointed straight at me.

A jolt shot through my veins.

''Left wing. Take him.”

The grip on my arm was brutal. The force nearly knocked me off balance.

''Move your ass!” the voice roared near my ear.

I swallowed hard and followed the brisk pace. The wing’s door opened, and the sound of laughter and whispers spilled from the cells.

''Fresh meat.”

''Delicious.”

''Send him over here!”

My legs nearly gave out.

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the panic.

The guard stopped in front of a cell, said something into his radio, and with a metallic clank, the bars slid open.

''Fox, you’ve got a new roommate.”

The shove was hard. I hit the floor, my knees burning from the impact. The bars closed with a loud clang.

''Welcome.”

My chest rose and fell in a ragged rhythm.

I slowly turned around.

The boy on the bed was watching me with a playful smirk.

He wore the same orange uniform. His tousled blond hair caught what little light there was in the cell. His sharp, blue eyes sparkled with mischief, as if nothing here could faze him.

His tanned skin contrasted with the lightness of his hair, and a tattoo stood out on his neck. It looked like a name, but the dim lighting made it hard to read.

''How long are you planning to stay on the floor?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I blinked, dazed, and slowly stood up, still hesitant.

''No need to panic. I don’t bite,” he chuckled. ''Well… maybe I do. But not tonight. It’s late. I’ll explain everything tomorrow. Top bunk’s yours.”

Without waiting for more questions, he turned his back and settled into the bed.

Exhaustion crushed me. I didn’t have the strength to protest. I climbed up to the top bunk, lay on my side, pressing my face to the cold wall as silent tears slid down my cheeks.

I sniffled quietly, trying not to sob.

I wasn’t supposed to be here.

I didn’t belong in this place.

But it was already too late.