9. CROSSROADS

Michael POV

As these thoughts linger in my mind, I feel another cool sensation, as if he has dipped his hands in ice, and his fingers feel sharper as he stands behind me.

The office suddenly feels smaller after Bishop’s offer, yet the man carries himself with the confidence of someone who owns not just the room, but every breathing thing inside it.

Samuel Vale does not step away after the offer. Instead, he comes closer. His fingers continue their slow journey over my back, tracing the ridges of muscle there as though inspecting merchandise he intends to purchase. The touch is light, almost lazy, but every movement is deliberate enough to make my skin crawl.

“You are tense,” he murmurs behind me, his voice getting deeper and soothing to the ears like a snare lying in wait for its prey.

I stand frozen as his breath fans against the side of my neck, mint and chocolate poisoning the air around me. “Most men would kill for what I’m offering,” he says.

His palm slides to my shoulder, squeezes, then glides down my chest. I catch his wrist immediately, but he only chuckles, amused by the resistance. “Relax, son.”

That word makes my stomach turn.

“I can’t do it,” I say firmly.

He tilts his head, studying my face like a priest disappointed in his favorite sinner. “Son, it is better for me to owe you one in here than for you to owe me one.”

The meaning beneath those words is crystal clear. This is no longer just an offer. This is manipulation wrapped in a facade, temptation and deceit dressed as salvation, and I am the unfortunate victim.

His fingers brush my jaw, gently pinching my nipples. I slap the hand away.

“I’ll take my chances,” I murmur in disapproval.

For the first time, the softness leaves his face. His eyes darken with something dangerous, but he quickly masks it behind a smile, trying to stay in character.

“That is unfortunate.” He steps back and adjusts his glasses. “Then enjoy those chances while they last.”

Immediately he says the words, he punches the ringer on the table. The guards return at once. My wrists are shackled again, and I am marched out of the office with my mind spinning.

I should feel victorious for refusing him. Instead, guilt chews into me because I know exactly why I refused. It was not pride or courage. I needed to see Ryan, and solitary is the only visible route to that part.

I plan it in my head. Samuel throws me into solitary confinement and later transfers me to maximum security. I get closer to Ryan, and we reconnect, navigating our way through Blackridge. Maximum security means access to him, the one person I came here to save.

Yet the price of that decision may have just become my life.

By the time I return to the cage, Oliver is seated on the lower bunk, waiting with wide, troubled eyes.

“Well?” he asks immediately.

I sink onto the bed opposite him and drag both palms over my face, sighing deeply. “You won’t believe the kind of madness running this prison.”

I release all the juicy details. Linton Khan’s strange proposal in the bathroom, Samuel Vale’s death-match offer, the legend of Konan, the promise of fake identities, and the illusions of freedom.

And finally, those words that greatly unsettled me, burrowing into my subconscious. “I would have to kill Linton eventually.”

Oliver remains silent for a long time, processing every word. Then he whistles under his breath. “Bloody hell, mate. Everybody in this prison wants a piece of you.”

“I don’t know which devil to follow,” I mutter bitterly. “Linton wants me in some escape arrangement, Samuel wants me in a death ring, and I’m standing in the middle like an idiot.”

Oliver suddenly leans forward. “What if there is another way?”

I look up, staring at him keenly. His expression changes slightly, greed and desperation clearly written in his eyes.

“What if you get me out of here,” he says slowly, “and half the diamonds are yours.”

“What?” I blink. I just declined the offer from Bishop, and now he is bringing escape again.

“You heard me. Half of all the diamonds.”

“That stash you hid?” I ask, eyes wide open.

“Yes. The longer I stay here, the closer my daughter gets to her grave. I need you to accept an offer. I need you to take me with you.”

I stare at him, trying to decide if prison has finally fried the old man’s brain. “Wait... you’re serious.”

“Of course I am.” He shifts closer, lowering his voice. “You are a fighter, Michael. You have brains too. Linton proposes something. The bishop has access. Somewhere in all this insanity lies a way out. If you can strategize something that gets both of us beyond these walls, half the diamonds belong to you.”

For several seconds, I say nothing. Linton’s mysterious confidence lingers in my mind. Samuel’s corrupt power also creeps in, and now there is a catch, Oliver’s diamonds.

Ryan is in maximum security. I need to relay this news to him. Every road branching before me looks like a trap, and I need to unwind before Ryan.

Standing at a crossroads made entirely of disaster and bad decisions, Ryan is the only one I can trust and talk to.

............

Night comes, and sleep eludes me like an unwanted army. I dream of Ryan strapped to an execution chair, his mouth gagged, his eyes bulging as masked men inject poison into his veins. I run toward him, screaming, but chains grow from the floor and wrap around my ankles.

Then the dream changes. The walls of Blackridge melt into a forest of black trees where creatures with human teeth crawl after me on all fours. Their nails tear my skin. Their mouths rip flesh from my arms and chest while I keep running, unable to die, unable to wake.

I see Lucas. I see Ryan. And I see myself drowning in blood while Ryan keeps asking one question. “Why?”

The siren blares, jolting me awake. I wake with a violent gasp, my back soaked in sweat. Oliver glances at me from his bunk. “You look like hell.”

“I feel worse.”

The yard is already crowded when we are herded out. Prisoners move in packs, guards bark instructions, and the cold air carries the usual scent of rust, sweat, and danger.

I barely take ten steps before I feel it, the shift in movement as some burly mean inmates surround me, vicious intent clearly plastered on their faces.

I sigh helplessly, knowing the morning is definitely going to get messy, if not bloody.