Chapter 137: Sofia's Dad

The night is dark, a blanket of shadows covering the prison grounds, but inside my cell, the darkness is alive. It breathes, it moves, it wraps itself around me like a lover. I can feel it pulsing through me, feeding that part of me that has always craved chaos. I stare at the concrete wall in front of me, my eyes tracing the cracks that spiderweb across its surface. I’ve spent too long in this place, but tonight, everything changes.

The guard on the night shift is one of mine. He knows his role, knows exactly what he needs to do. I hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway, steady and deliberate, and I smile, a slow, cold curl of satisfaction. It’s taken time—so much time—to set this up. But I’m patient. I’ve always been patient when it comes to getting what I want.

The keys rattle in the lock, and I turn, my eyes narrowing as the door swings open. The guard nods at me, a flicker of fear in his eyes, and he steps back, giving me room. “It’s time,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

I step out of the cell, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of the corridor. The air smells of sweat, metal, and fear. The fear of the men around me, the inmates who have heard my name whispered in the dark, who have seen what happens to those who cross me. I walk past their cells, my footsteps echoing, my eyes straight ahead. There’s no need to look at them—they know better than to challenge me.

The guard leads me through the maze of corridors, past doors that should be locked but swing open as we approach. He’s done well. Every man has his price, and I found his. He owes me, and tonight, he’s paying that debt.

We reach the exit, a heavy metal door that leads to the outside. My heart pounds in my chest, a slow, deliberate rhythm. Freedom is just beyond that door, and with it, the promise of vengeance. I think of Sofia, her face flashing in my mind. My useless daughter. She thought she could escape me, thought she could build a life without looking over her shoulder. She thought those boys could protect her. She has no idea what real fear is. Not yet.

The door groans open, the cold night air hitting me like a slap, and I step outside. The yard is empty, silent, the shadows thick and heavy. The guard hesitates, and I turn to him, my eyes narrowing. “Go back,” I say, my voice like ice. He nods, turning on his heel, and I watch him disappear into the building, the door clanging shut behind him.

I move quickly, my feet silent on the gravel, my eyes scanning the perimeter. There are two more men waiting near the fence, their faces pale in the moonlight. They’ve got bolt cutters, and they’re working fast, their hands shaking as they cut through the chain links. I can see the fear in their eyes, the way they look at me like I’m something out of a nightmare. Good. Fear is useful. Fear keeps people in line.

The fence gives way with a snap, the metal curling back, and I step through, my breath misting in the cold air. I’m out. The night stretches before me, open and full of possibilities, and I feel something dark and triumphant swell in my chest. They thought they could lock me away, thought they could keep me from what’s mine. They were wrong.

We move through the field beyond the fence, the dry grass crunching beneath our feet. One of the men—an idiot named Suarez—keeps glancing over his shoulder, his eyes wide, his breath coming in gasps. He’s scared, and it’s starting to annoy me. I stop, grabbing him by the collar, pulling him close. “Get a grip,” I hiss, my fingers digging into his skin. “You want to live through this, you keep your mouth shut and do as I say.”

He nods, his eyes wide, and I shove him away, my lip curling in disgust. I don’t have time for weakness. Not now, not when I’m so close. The other man—Garcia—is smarter. He keeps his head down, his eyes straight ahead, his hands steady. I’ll remember that.

We reach the road, an old van parked just off the shoulder, the engine idling. The driver—a kid barely out of his teens—looks up as we approach, his eyes widening. He knows who I am, knows what I’m capable of. He doesn’t say a word as I climb into the back, Garcia and Suarez following. The doors slam shut, and the van lurches forward, the tires spitting gravel as we speed away from the prison.

The drive is silent, the only sound the hum of the engine and the rush of wind outside. I sit in the back, my eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the window, my mind already racing ahead. I think of Sofia, of those boys she’s surrounded herself with. They think they’ve won, think they’ve taken everything from me. But they’re wrong. They have no idea what’s coming for them.

My fingers curl into fists, my nails biting into my palms. I can still see her face, the way she looked at me that last time, her eyes filled with fear and disgust. My own daughter, looking at me like I was nothing. I’ll make her pay for that. I’ll make her regret every choice she’s made, every time she thought she could defy me. I’ll take everything from her, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but her tears.

The van pulls off the road, the tires crunching over gravel, and we come to a stop. Garcia opens the door, and I step out, the cold air biting at my skin. We’re at a safehouse—a run-down shack in the middle of nowhere, but it’ll do for now. I turn to Suarez, my eyes narrowing. “Make sure no one followed,” I say, my voice low, dangerous.

He nods, scrambling back into the van, and I watch as it pulls away, disappearing into the night. Garcia follows me inside, the door creaking on its hinges as we step into the dark, musty room. There’s a table in the center, a few chairs scattered around, and a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting a dim, flickering light.

I sit down at the table, my mind already working through the next steps. I need more men, more weapons. I need to make sure that when I strike, it’s swift and brutal. I want them to see me coming, want them to feel the fear building as they realize they can’t stop me. I want them to know that I’m going to take everything from them, just like they took everything from me.

Garcia stands by the door, his eyes on me, waiting. I look at him, a slow smile spreading across my face. “We’re just getting started,” I say, my voice a low growl. “It’s time they learned what real fear is.”

He nods, his face pale, and I can see the unease in his eyes. Good. Let him be scared. Let them all be scared. Because I’m coming, and there’s nothing they can do to stop me.

I reach into my pocket, pulling out a knife, the blade catching the light. I run my thumb along the edge, feeling the sharpness, the promise of what’s to come. My mind drifts back to Sofia, to the way she looked at me, to the way those boys stood in my way. I’ll make them bleed. I’ll make them all bleed.

And when I’m done, there will be nothing left but the echoes of their screams, the bloodstains on my hands, and the satisfaction of knowing that they finally understand what it means to cross me.

Tonight was just the beginning. The real nightmare is yet to come.