Fancy Prisons Novels & Stories

The maximum-security fortress stood like a monument to violence and failure. A labyrinth of concrete, steel, and shadows, where the worst of the worst from Italy and beyond were locked away, some awaiting trial, others forgotten by the world outside. Jeremy Cali stepped out of his armored SUV, his presence alone enough to make the guards stiffen. They knew who he was. More importantly, they knew what he was capable of. The prison gates groaned open, leading him through a series of sterile hallways, past rows of men with hollow eyes and rotting souls. The air was thick with sweat, desperation, and the unspoken promise of violence.

Before I left, I gave him one last parting message. "Oh, by the way, you’re going to be moved to a new facility soon. I spent quite a bit to make sure you’re transferred. It’s a special prison, full of inmates with... particular 'tastes.' A soft, defenseless college boy like you? I’m sure you’ll be very popular. Enjoy your life sentence." Stepping outside, I looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful day—the sun blazed down on me. I didn’t bother with an umbrella; it was a bit hot, but I felt lighter than I had in years.

By the last question, Arista’s voice couldn’t help but tremble, “Does... does she... not need me anymore...” As soon as she finished speaking, tears welled up in her enormous eyes and fell to the ground. Arista’s crying appearance had always been extremely pitiful. Martha Marriott was silent for a moment, choosing to set aside his questions for now. “Caroline stayed with the Primordial Vampire... And the Primordial Vampire poses an enormous threat to the three packs, so... King Lycan has ordered Caroline and the Primordial Vampire to be imprisoned in Figurati.” “Figurati?” Arista froze. “Why... why... why are they imprisoned? My master is a good person...”

Deadmoo. A terrifying place, the most dangerous prison earth has ever seen. It wasn't a pre-sketched or planned architectural design. It was a solitary confinement made of jagged rocky walls, a permanent abode for beasts among humans: Heartless criminals, Gangsters, Drug lords, Corrupt politicians, sleazy politicians, dangerous assassins and people that committed crimes too bloody for headlines. They're not the regular prisoners— They're called THE DOOMERS. Frankly— they are doomed.

she said, “I have been with them for the past two years, this is the simplest job that pays you well. Just pray that someone should consider you,” Cynthia nodded. “Why don’t you change into something good,” Before she could protest, Mia took her to the backstage, where dozens of women were preparing. Some laughed nervously. Some adjusted their makeup. Others discussed the men expected to attend. They say one of them owns half the city. And then she heard another guest has a private island. Apparently, everyone here is rich, the other girl said. Cynthia listened, now she wanted someone to pick her for god’s sake. To earn a quarter of a million in one night, this is the only way.

Romnick adjusted his airpods. Nicholas answered immediately. "Because he has access to their finances." "Oh." He continues. "That's actually important." Aiva looked offended. "You just realized that?" "Numbers aren't real." "They're literally real." "Agree to disagree." Because ahead the prison appeared a black compound surrounded by mountains isolated, heavily guarded place. A nightmare. Cinthye studied the building. "That's not a prison." Damien nodded. "It's a fortress." Unfortunately, they were right.

he said to the bartender, who was wiping the glass. Ilawana Delta Maheswara, an architect and Melvin's best friend. The man had been the designer of Melvin's buildings for the past few years. A man who had repented of approaching women, even though Delta was a notorious playboy who dated almost every student on his campus back in college. "You ordered drinks without me?" asked a man who had just arrived, patting the shoulders of his two friends. "Want a drink?" asked Delta. "No, no one will drive me home if I drink, right? Besides-"

The towering gates of the maximum-security prison loomed ahead, a foreboding sight that signaled the beginning of his incarcerated life. Upon arrival, the air crackled with authority as officers meticulously followed protocols to admit Ejay into the highly secure institution. Each step within the facility was shadowed by vigilant guards, their watchful eyes a constant reminder of the severity of his confinement. As he passed through multiple checkpoints, heavy doors sealed behind him, locking away any remnants of freedom he once possessed. Ejay was ushered into a cell within the confines of the maximum-security prison, the iron bars a stark testament to the formidable nature of his lifelong

“Yeah, there’s silver woven into the fabric.” I couldn’t help but actually laugh at that. What did he think was in there? Did he think that it would be bars and that’s it? They want to make sure that prisoners can’t ‘wolf out’ as one of the teens had put it not that long ago. “You think this is funny boy?” “Ahhh slightly. Not too sure what you were hoping for when you were sent to the cells, the dungee-on, the prison… we could sing the Folsom Prison Blues together if you’d like.”

He looked back at me with those beautiful chocolate brown eyes, “where were we? Ah, yes. We were talking about your stubbornness.” I was too distracted by what the vile shifter had said. “What was he talking about?” “There are protectors who rent out their cellmates to other inmates for money and food.” “They sound like pimps!” “That’s what they are, and some of these females don’t have a choice. They become the prison whores.” His fingers snapped open the bra and threw it onto the floor. I got hold of his shirt, “You won’t ever do that to me, would you?”