The block didn't change, but Jayden's eyes did. Every corner, every glance, every word carried weight now. He stopped reacting and started watching.
Dre's lessons came in fragments, slipped through the wall like contraband.
"Listen first. Talk last."
"Make them show their hand before you move yours."
"Violence is their game. Discipline is yours."
Jayden repeated the words in his head until they sank under his skin.
---
The Daily Grind
The days dragged like shackles. Breakfast slop, work detail, rec, lights out. But Jayden began to notice cracks. The guards weren't all the same. Some were cruel for sport, others for survival. Some ignored him unless Spider stirred the pot.
He learned who took bribes—extra bread for smuggled candy, time in the laundry room for silence. He didn't bite, but he filed it away. Information was currency, Dre said.
Rico tested him in the showers, shoulder-checks, spit on his shoes. Jayden swallowed the fire. He turned away, not out of fear but out of choice. Spider watched from the edge, eyes glittering, smirk fading every time Jayden refused to play.
But restraint wasn't silence. In the cafeteria, when a younger kid got cornered, Jayden stepped in—not with fists, but with presence. One hard stare, one step forward, and the bullies backed down. The kid looked at him like he was something more than another body in orange. Word spread. Respect again, but this time, not born of chaos—born of control.
---
Dre's Lesson
That night Dre whispered, "That's it. You showed power without swinging. That scares them more. They don't know what you'll do. That's leverage."
Jayden scratched the words into his sketchbook: Leverage is survival. Underneath he drew a torch, steady and upright, flame calm but dangerous.
He wanted to believe it was enough. But the system didn't just watch—it pushed.
---
Spider's New Game
Spider was quiet too long. Jayden knew it meant poison in the water. One afternoon in the yard, Spider sidled up, smiling like a wolf.
"You're learning tricks, fire-boy. Cute. But you know what patience buys you? Time. And time runs out."
He held up a scrap of paper, folded tight, slipped it into Jayden's pocket with a pat on the shoulder before walking off. Jayden almost tossed it immediately, but Dre's warning echoed: Always read the play.
That night, in the dark, he opened it.
When max comes, you won't last. Better to fall here than there. Your move.
Spider was setting the stage again. Rico's eyes the next day confirmed it—hungry, waiting. The storm was coming, and this time they weren't playing small.
---
The Boil Inside
Jayden lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling, fists tight. The fire screamed: strike first. Break them before they break you. But Dre's voice held him:
"Patience. Strategy. Starve the system."
He hated it. Hated holding back. Hated the weight pressing his chest. But for the first time in his life, he felt like maybe the fire didn't own him. Maybe he could shape it, mold it.
He drew in his book until his hand cramped—Spider's face as a snake, Rico's as a snarling wolf, and himself as a shadow with a flame caged in its chest, key in hand.
Underneath, he wrote: Burn smart. Burn when it counts.
---
The Looming Test
Two days later, a guard barked at him during line-up. "Carter, step out." His gut twisted. The others leaned in to watch. Rico smirked. Spider's grin cut deep.
The guard whispered: "Someone's saying you're planning something. That true?"
Jayden locked eyes, steady, fire contained. "No."
The guard studied him, waiting for a crack. When none came, he shoved him back into line.
Spider's laugh broke the silence: "Tick-tock, fire-boy. Tick-tock."
Jayden breathed, fists unclenched, heart a furnace. The system wanted him to erupt. Spider wanted the same. Both were closing in. But for the first time, Jayden didn't feel trapped—he felt ready.
Because he knew the storm was coming. And when it did, he wouldn't just burn. He'd burn smart.