He lay back on the thin mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling above him.
The lines in it looked like fractures in bone. Like something had hit it hard once… and it never healed right.
Sleep didn't come easy.
It came in pieces—broken, jagged, like glass shoved into his skull.
A laugh.
Her laugh.
Then—
Blood.
Luca's eyes snapped open.
His chest heaved, breath coming out sharp, uneven. His body was damp with sweat, the cold air biting into his skin through the thin fabric of his prison clothes.
"Fuck…" he whispered, dragging a hand over his face.
He didn't even know what time it was.
Didn't matter.
Sleep wasn't coming back.
Not here.
Not in this place.
He sat up slowly, glancing at the top bunk. Reyes was still there, one arm hanging over the edge, cigarette burned out between his fingers, chest rising and falling like nothing in the world could touch him.
Lucky bastard.
Or maybe just used to hell.
Luca swung his legs over the side of the bed, feet hitting the cold concrete floor. The chill shot up through his body, grounding him, reminding him this wasn't a dream.
This was real.
Every fucking second of it.
He stood, moving quietly, careful not to make noise as he stepped toward the door. The corridor beyond was dim, barely lit by flickering overhead lights that buzzed like dying insects.
No guards in sight.
Good.
He slipped out.
The prison at dawn was… different.
Quieter.
But not peaceful.
It felt like the calm before a storm. Like the whole place was holding its breath, waiting for something ugly to wake up.
Luca walked slowly, eyes scanning everything. Corners. Shadows. Movement.
He wasn't stupid.
This place would eat him alive if he was.
He barely made it halfway down the corridor before he felt it.
Eyes.
Watching.
Then—
A sharp whistle cut through the air.
Luca froze.
Another one followed. Louder. Mocking.
"Yo… look at that."
"Fresh meat's up early."
"Well damn… he's kinda cute too."
A low laugh rippled through the hallway.
Luca turned.
And there they were.
Women.
Not just any women.
Predators.
They leaned against the walls, sitting on benches, some standing with arms crossed—watching him like he was something to be picked apart.
Measured.
Owned.
One of them stepped forward.
Tall.
Maybe 5'10. Cropped black hair. A tattoo snaked down her arm, disappearing beneath her sleeve like it had secrets of its own.
Her eyes dragged over him slowly.
Not curious.
Hungry.
"Well, shit," she said, voice smooth as smoke. "They didn't tell us we were getting something this fresh."
Luca swallowed.
Didn't respond.
Didn't move.
Big mistake?
He didn't know.
Didn't fucking know anything yet.
Another woman laughed from behind her. "You gonna just stand there, or you gonna say something, pretty boy?"
"Maybe he's shy."
"Or maybe he's scared."
"Same thing in here."
More laughter.
Luca felt it crawling under his skin.
This wasn't flirting.
This wasn't harmless.
This was power.
And they were testing him.
Same as the men would.
Same rules.
Same hunger.
He forced his voice steady. "Not interested."
Silence.
Then—
A slow, amused grin spread across the tall woman's face.
"Oh?" she said softly. "Not interested?"
She stepped closer.
Too close.
Close enough that he could smell her—sweat, smoke, something sharp underneath it.
"Wrong answer."
Luca didn't flinch.
Didn't step back.
Even though every instinct in his body screamed at him to.
She studied him for a second longer.
Then chuckled.
"Relax," she said, turning away. "We're just fucking with you."
The others laughed again, but there was something underneath it.
Disappointment.
Like a meal that wasn't ready yet.
"Don't worry," one of them muttered. "You'll break eventually."
Luca turned and walked.
Slow.
Controlled.
But inside?
His heart was slamming against his ribs like it wanted out.
Fuck this place.
Seriously.
Fuck this place.
He turned a corner and stepped into the open yard.
And that's when the noise hit him.
Shouting.
Cheering.
Violence.
Two inmates stood in the center of a loose circle.
No guards stopping it.
No whistles.
No rules.
Just raw, brutal fucking chaos.
The bigger guy swung first.
A heavy punch that cracked against the other man's jaw.
The sound echoed.
Sickening.
The smaller guy staggered but came back fast, throwing punches wild and desperate.
Didn't matter.
The bigger one grabbed him.
Slammed him down.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until the smaller one stopped moving.
The crowd didn't react.
Didn't rush in.
Didn't help.
They just watched.
Some laughed.
Some placed bets.
Some turned away like it was just another Tuesday.
Luca felt his stomach twist.
No one gave a shit.
Not about pain.
Not about life.
Not about anything.
The bigger man stood over the body, breathing heavy, blood dripping from his knuckles.
Then he spat on the ground.
And walked off.
Just like that.
Done.
Finished.
Like it meant nothing.
Luca exhaled slowly.
"Money, force, sex…" he muttered under his breath.
The unholy trinity.
Yeah.
He got it now.
Loud and fucking clear.
He turned away.
No way in hell he was getting involved in that.
Not yet.
Not until he understood the rules.
If there even were any.
He took a few steps—
Then stopped.
Because he saw her.
Blonde hair.
Messy, tied back like she didn't give a damn.
Arms covered in ink—real ink, not the sloppy prison shit.
And her eyes…
Green.
Sharp.
Focused.
Dangerous.
She was arguing with two guards.
Not begging.
Not scared.
Arguing.
"—I'm telling you, that wasn't mine," she snapped.
"Yeah? Then why the hell was it in your locker?" one of the guards shot back.
"Because someone planted that shit, you idiot."
"Watch your mouth."
"Or what?"
Tension snapped tight in the air.
Luca didn't know why he moved.
Didn't think.
Didn't plan.
Just stepped forward.
"Hey," he said.
Both guards turned.
Annoyed.
"What?" one of them barked.
Luca swallowed.
This was stupid.
Really fucking stupid.
"I'll cover it," he said.
The words came out before he could stop them.
The guard narrowed his eyes. "You?"
"Yeah."
"With what money?"
"…I'll get it."
A pause.
Then the guards exchanged a look.
One of them smirked. "You better. Or you're both fucked."
They stepped back.
Just like that.
Let her go.
Luca exhaled slowly.
What the hell did I just do?
The girl turned to him.
Eyebrow raised.
Amused.
"You know you just bought yourself a debt, right?" she said.
Luca ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah… figured."
"You don't even know how much."
"I'll figure it out."
She stared at him for a second longer.
Then smirked.
"You're either brave… or really fucking stupid."
"Probably both."
She laughed.
Short. Real.
Then she looked him up and down.
Not subtly.
Not politely.
Luca shifted slightly.
She noticed.
Of course she did.
"Damn," she said. "You're smaller than I thought."
He frowned. "Excuse me?"
She stepped closer.
Definitely taller.
"Relax," she said. "I don't bite… unless I'm bored."
Luca rolled his eyes. "Good to know."
She turned and started walking. "Come on, fresh meat. I'll get you lunch."
He hesitated.
Then followed.
Because honestly?
He didn't have a better plan.
The cafeteria was worse than the yard.
Smell hit first.
Rotten food.
Sweat.
Unwashed bodies.
It was thick.
Heavy.
Like it clung to your lungs.
Luca sat across from her, staring at the tray in front of him.
Food?
Barely.
More like something pretending to be food.
"You gonna eat that?" she asked.
He didn't move.
"Suit yourself," she said, stealing a piece from his tray without hesitation.
He let her.
Didn't care.
His appetite was gone.
"Name's Lana," she said, mouth half full. "Half-Russian, half-American. Used to be rich. Now I'm here. Life's funny like that."
Luca huffed slightly. "Yeah. Funny."
She pointed at him with her fork. "Your turn."
He hesitated.
Then—
"They say I killed my girlfriend."
Lana paused.
Fork halfway to her mouth.
"Did you?" she asked.
Simple.
Direct.
No bullshit.
Luca stared at the table.
His hands clenched.
"I don't know."
Silence.
Real silence this time.
Not the kind filled with noise.
The kind that sits heavy between two people.
Lana leaned back slightly.
Studying him.
Really studying him now.
Not like prey.
Not like a joke.
Something else.
"…shit," she muttered.
"Yeah."
She tapped her fingers against the table.
Thinking.
Then finally—
"Then figure it out," she said.
Her voice was quieter now.
But heavier.
"Before this place figures it out for you."
Luca looked up.
Their eyes met.
And for the first time since he got here…
Someone didn't look at him like he was already dead.
That night, back in his cell, Luca lay on his bed again.
Same cracked ceiling.
Same cold air.
Same fucking prison.
But something had changed.
Not outside.
Inside.
He turned his head slightly.
Reyes was awake now.
Watching him.
"Made friends already?" Reyes asked, smirking.
Luca didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
Reyes chuckled. "Careful, kid. Attachments get you killed in here."
"Yeah," Luca muttered. "I figured."
Silence stretched.
Then—
"What's your plan?" Reyes asked.
Luca stared at the ceiling.
Thinking.
Really thinking.
Not reacting.
Not surviving moment to moment.
Planning.
"I need a job," he said finally.
Reyes raised an eyebrow. "A job?"
"Something low-key. Somewhere I can move around. Hear things."
Reyes' smirk widened.
"Smart."
Luca exhaled slowly.
"The library."
Reyes laughed.
Actually laughed.
"Didn't expect that one."
Luca turned his head slightly.
Eyes sharp now.
Focused.
"I'm not winning this place with fists," he said.
A pause.
Then—
"I'm winning it with information."
Reyes stared at him for a second.
Then nodded.
Slowly.
"Yeah…" he said. "You might actually survive this shit."
Luca looked back at the ceiling.
The cracks didn't look random anymore.
They looked like patterns.
Like something broken…
that could still be understood.
He clenched his fists slightly.
He didn't know if he was a killer.
Didn't know if he was innocent.
Didn't know what the hell happened that night.
But one thing was certain now.
He wasn't going to sit here and rot.
He was going to dig.
He was going to fight.
He was going to tear the truth out of this world…
even if it fucking killed him.