Black Pentagon Prison Novels & Stories

even a fellow officer could have been the one who set him up. My mother was close to delivery at this point and my Dad had been transferred to world's end in Black gate, a place where major criminals where kept. This part of Black gate earned the name because people hardly made it to the end of their term here especially when they were cops who are going to be meeting the criminals that they had prosecuted over the years. At world's end, the convicted criminal, is not allowed to receive visitors anymore, unless special ops operatives, officers or agents needs to interrogate them concerning any investigation.

"Are you sure you don't have any more information you'd like to share, Mr. Brown? This is your last chance. Otherwise, you'll have to face the consequences of what you did. You could stay in prison for the rest of your life." "So life imprisonment is the worst the Diamond Pack do to its criminals." Jack whispered by her side. "Mr. Brown, do you know where Arden and his allies are?" the judge asked, as a last attempt to get something useful out of him. "I wouldn't say even if I did. The man is a beast. You wouldn't go after him, even if your life depended on it." The troublemakers started to scream and push people forward, so they could get closer to the stage.

Larry pushed the door open and walked in, taking a look at Piper. She seemed more mature than before, she had a charming smile on her lips. "Larry, have a sit." Piper pointed to the seat across from her. "What's the matter with calling me here so urgently?" Larry asked as he sat down. "Do you know of a girl named Diane inside our prison?" Piper asked, leaning back in her chair. "Yes, why?" Larry pretended to be confused and said, "She was picked up by our third squadron a few days ago and is now living in a single-room cell in the prison."

She'd start talking and then everyone would know what she'd done and how pathetic she was. She was in a funk. A funk of her own making. "Ug, this sucks," she muttered and washed her hands. That done, she exited the bathroom. The secure site was outside of DC on the north side in Maryland. Kelsey's estimation was that this was a black site, and the people who were being held here had ceased to exist to the rest of the world. That made sense given the nature of the case they were working. She had no doubt that if Skilton found out about it, he'd ensure every person inside was killed.

It wasn't a request for a date; it was a mandatory meeting with my captors. I slumped onto the floor, the ceramic tiles cold beneath my legs. West Wing Penthouse. I didn't know the building well, but the phrase itself screamed exclusivity and high security. It wasn't the communal floor; it was their territory. Their cage. I can’t. I won’t go. I wanted to throw the phone, smash it against the brick wall, erase the evidence of their contact. But the immediate, crushing thought was: What happens if I don't show up?

“Let me guess. Someone that wants you completely gone from life, right? A man who manipulated you into getting into a legal precinct prison, then paid a hefty, ridiculous amount of cash to the local authorities to have you roughened up by the local muscle, and then quietly transfers you to the black market prison? Because that's what I like to call this place. The black market prison. The graveyard where you’ll never see the dawn of the day again.” I stared at her, my jaw tightening as the absolute reality of Yamelyan’s setup solidified. “Something like that. Yeah. He told me he had a surprise waiting for me.” “Oh, he’s a big fan of surprises,” she said, her voice dripping with an incredibly

“You don’t have to. You can say no.” “But maybe I should. Maybe someone needs to hear that getting out isn’t the end. That life after can be good.” “Then go. I’ll come with you.” “You don’t have to.” “I want to. We do this together. Remember?” They drove upstate. To the prison. To the place where Penking had spent four years. It looked smaller than he remembered. Sadder. Greyer. They were led to a room. Thirty inmates. All listening. All hoping.

ELARA Hayes appears, and checks Richard's pulse. "He's alive. It is a shoulder shot. He'll survive." "Good." Damien kneels beside Richard, who's gasping, and clutching his bleeding shoulder. "You're going to prison. Real prison this time, not the country club facility you had before. Federal Supermax. Twenty-three hours a day in a concrete box. No windows. No visitors. No chance of parole." Richard coughs, blood on his lips. "You can't—"

She clasped her hands together, her eyes locked with Ryan's, silently urging him to continue. Ryan, still catching his breath, continued, "The facility is known as Citadel Penitentiary. It's a maximum-security prison located deep within the outskirts. It houses some of the most dangerous criminals in the country. Getting access won't be easy, but I assure you, we'll do everything we can to help reunite you with Kristen."

he replied, smirking as he led her toward a tall gray building surrounded by barbed wire. The sign read: New York State Women’s Penitentiary – Block A. Inside, the air was heavy with the stench of offensive smell. Metal doors slammed, voices echoed, and the sound of boots hitting the floor filled the corridors. “Name,” the officer at the front desk said flatly, not looking up. “Amelia Stone,” she answered quietly. The man looked up sharply. “Stone? The billionaire?” He whistled. “Guess money can’t buy you out of everything.”