All Chapters of BLACKRIDGE: FORGED FROM FIRE: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Ryan Carter POV"Carter!!! What the heck!!! You better stay indoors, cause if you step out, you definitely die today." My roommate warns, but I refuse to listen."Just let me be, Imp. I can't keep running forever." I yawn lazily as I stroll out of my cell.The first rule of Black Ridge is simple. "If you fall, You die."The blade flashes before I even see the man holding it. All through the week I have been preparing myself for this moment.Once the rotten chicken leg drops in front of you, it means you've been challenged to a life and death duel.You dare not ignore the match. You dare not shy away from the warning. If you do, they'll find a way of killing you anyway.They'll end you in the most ruthless, unsettling manner."Move, Carter!" someone shouts from behind, but it's too late.The sharp dagger comes straight for my ribs.I twist sideways as the blade misses my vital organ by an inch, grazing my stomach with infinite pain.The rusted metal sticks to my shirt as the pain tears

Michael POVI seach up and down the bed for my phone, or even his, I need to call an ambulance.I ran up and down the room like a mad dog, His eyes are open, empty and lifeless. No pulse to comfort me. No breath to lift my spirit.Who the hell shot him, and what sought of mess have I gotten myself intoAs I bask on the thought, One sharp sound jolts me back to reality.The door bursts Open. "Police! Don't move!"Everything happens so fast that I'm too confused to even mutter a word.The angry cob grabbs my hand forcing me to the ground.What's going on? I yell at the officer "I didn't do anything!""Save your explanation" an angry cop barks at me snapping a cold handcuff around my wrist.I glance at the bed and then try to negotiate with the cop "He was alive a few minutes ago... I...I heard gunshot"But their activities are calm and calculated. The arrest, the failure to even ask me about the condition of Ethan. Then it hit me.They already knew what to do! I feel stupid. this is al

Episode 5: Weight of EntryMichael POVI step out of the car and set foot in Blackridge, as the scorching sun burns through my skin, its aggressiveness raw and unyielding, pressing down on me like a punishment before I have even crossed the gates.The guards lick their lips in anticipation, ready to welcome new prey into the dungeon of adversity, their eyes sharp and eager, while the gang members and bodybuilders inside the yard smile in anticipation like tigers waiting for antelopes to enter the arena.The gates creak open, heavy and final, and for a brief second, the outside world feels like a memory already slipping away. Then I lock eyes with Ryan.He looks troubled and has dark circles under his eyes, like a raccoon starved of sleep for ages, his face sharper than I remember, his body carrying so much weight.“I am here to save you, Ryan. This system will burn under our feet,” I murmur under my breath, low enough for no one else to hear.His stare is cold and distant, his lips ho

MICHAEL POVThe wind grazes my skin like a long-lost lover, but anticipation and guilt overwhelm me as the cold shower from rusted pipes attacks my skin.Today, I will finally get to meet Ryan and get things off my chest.Then my eyes catch a commotion. A troubled kid sticks to the corners of the bathroom walls, his eyes full of reproach.I notice the blood flowing from his laps, and my heart breaks in uttermost dismay. I remember those words, “pick up the soap,” and how he had that unfortunate human rod forced into his butthole without consent.This is another victim of Blackridge brutality, and perhaps the Almighty sent me here to get the kid out of trouble.“You so sweet, pretty boy. Your wet cunt and the oud hummmn, its giving. Amma liking it, booooy!”Those words cut deeper than knives ever could. I see the fear and horror in the kid’s eyes the moment he hears it.“Come here, boy!” Jamal commands.The kid trembles, but obeys.“Let him go!” I speak out angrily.“Mind your fucking b

Michael POVAs 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, squee