I could hear the other fighters shouting, screaming that they’d been released, could hear the screech of cell doors being wrenched open, the screams of men dying.

I was fucking incensed.

I wanted blood.

And I needed to fight!

My blood boiled under my flesh, fiery, searing, preparing me for a fight to the death. To do what I did best—maim, slaughter… kill.

Roaring out, I released the cell bars and once again began pacing the cell. My eyes, even in the dark, focused on the wall and the name engraved in the stone. Alik Durov. Underneath was an address. Brooklyn, New York. Below that, a motive. Revenge. Lastly, there was a clear instruction. Kill.

I had no memory of writing it down, no memory of my life before this place. Didn’t know if I ever had a life outside of these stone walls. My brain had shut down, blocking out anything but the need to kill, erasing any knowledge of who I was, where I was from, and why I was in this fucking shithole. But one thing was certain. I had written that name, that address, that motive, and that instruction. When I stared at those jagged letters carved permanently on the wall in my line of sight, anger consumed every cell in my body and I knew, without a doubt, I had to do what the inscription commanded.

But I had to get out of this place first.

The sound of the hallway door slamming open echoed off the walls. I rushed to the bars to see what the fuck was happening. My skin was itching with the need to break free, to join the fight… to get my revenge.

The clinking of cell doors opening made my heart race faster. My knuckles cracked with the intensity of my grip on the bars.

“Get me the fuck out!” I growled as I heard heavy footsteps approach my cell. My cheek pressed hard on cold metal as I stretched to see who was coming, my hands rocking the cell door until blood began to ooze from the constantly splitting skin on my fingers.

“Go! Go!” a male voice ordered a prisoner, and I heard a man running away. “They’ve been overpowered. Head for the east gate.”

They’ve been overpowered. Hearing these words spoken out loud, I lost it. Wildfire pulsed through my veins. Running to the back of my cell, I charged the door, my shoulder dislocating with the force.

Seizing my right hand, I popped my shoulder back in place. “GET ME THE FUCK OUT!” I bellowed, my voice sounding as sharp as razors.

The light above my cell flickered off, plunging me into darkness, but it didn’t matter. I could hear everything, I’d learned to embrace the dark. Thudding on the stone floor made its way toward me. My roaring and bellowing increased.

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped and I could hear the sound of heavy breathing outside my cell.

“Get. Me. The. Fuck. Out,” I warned. I caught a nervous flicker of movement to my right.

Two men.

Two men were pussying out of facing me head on.

“It’s him,” one of them whispered as my jaw ticked in annoyance. “It’s 818.”

“I won’t tell you again. Get me the fuck out, or when I find you, I’ll snap your spines,” I threatened in a low voice, as the bars creaked louder with the pulsating power of my anger.

The men still didn’t move. I could smell their fear and it just fucked me off even more.

“Get him out!” a voice ordered from behind and, suddenly, the familiar face of 362 came into view—my greatest rival but the man I spoke to and respected most.

362 grabbed a key and unlocked my door, his broad chest bare, black sweatpants covering his legs and his long black hair hanging down his back. He swung the door open and met me toe to toe at the entrance. His brown eyes bored into mine as my chest pumped with adrenaline. Then he smirked and slapped me on the arm, laughing. Shaking my head, I sized up the two men who blocked my way and then I smiled. I could kill the two weak fuckers in seconds. Snap their necks before they could fucking blink.

The smell of piss filled my nostrils as the two men stood frozen, wide eyes fixed on me. Then the tension of the moment was shattered when a gunshot rang out from upstairs.

362 backed up. “We’ll go out through the east gate. The guards have been overpowered, but they’ll send more soon. We’re the last to be freed. No fucker dared come down here apart from those two. They had no idea it was for you and me.”

362 set off at a sprint back up the stairwell, leaving me stunned at the entrance of my cell. I looked down at the invisible line that separated me from the hallway and, when I looked down, my hands were shaking.

My hands were shaking…

I’d never left my cell of my own accord before. I’d never been beyond this room unless to fight, be tortured or train.