The block was tense. Every shuffle of boots, every clang of metal doors carried the weight of something brewing. The planted smokes hadn't broken Jayden—if anything, it had exposed Spider's desperation. Kids were starting to whisper differently. Not louder, not public, but enough. Jayden caught flickers in their eyes: doubt. And doubt was Spider's enemy.
That's why Jayden knew something worse was coming.
---
The Warning
It started with Dre. Late at night, two taps on the wall. Urgent.
"They're setting you up again," Dre whispered. His voice was low, sharper than usual. "Not contraband this time. Worse. Heard Spider talking with Rico—said they're gonna make you bleed, bad enough the staff has to ship you out."
Jayden pressed his palms into the mattress, jaw clenched. "When?"
"Soon," Dre said. "They want you scared. Don't give it to them. But be ready, Scrap. Ready for real."
Jayden stared at the ceiling long after Dre's voice faded. The fire in his chest pulsed steady, not wild this time. He knew it now: Spider didn't want to just beat him. He wanted him erased.
---
The Yard Boils
Two days later, the yard cracked open. The air was thick with tension, heavier than usual. Jayden walked the track, eyes scanning, body taut. He saw Spider off near the fence, talking low with a guard who should've been pacing the line. His stomach dropped.
That's when Rico struck.
No shoves this time. No whispers. Rico came from the side with a sharpened piece of plastic—jagged, glinting in the sun. The crowd screamed, scattering fast, but some stayed, hungry for the blood they knew was coming.
Jayden twisted, the blade grazing his arm, hot pain slicing skin. He staggered back, fists up, fire roaring to be unleashed.
"Thought you were untouchable?" Rico snarled, lunging again.
---
Control and Fire
Everything slowed. Jayden saw the arc of Rico's arm, the jagged edge, the rage in his eyes. He could kill him now. Just a few wild swings and Rico would drop, maybe for good.
But Dre's voice cut through the fire, sharp as steel: Control isn't weakness. It's survival.
Jayden ducked, caught Rico's wrist, twisted. The blade clattered to the dirt. Gasps rose from the crowd.
He didn't follow up with fists. Didn't let the fire explode. He shoved Rico back, sending him sprawling. Then he kicked the blade away, standing tall, chest heaving, hands open.
"I'm still here," Jayden said, voice steady, loud enough for the whole yard.
---
The Guards' Arrival
Boots thundered. Guards swarmed, tackling both boys to the dirt. The baton's bite landed across Jayden's back, but this time, the eyes weren't just on him. They'd seen the blade in Rico's hand. They'd seen Spider watching from the fence.
One guard kicked the shiv further away, muttering, "Jesus Christ."
Spider's grin was thin, brittle now. For once, he hadn't gotten the ending he wanted.
---
The Aftermath
Dragged back into the block, Jayden's arm burned where the blade had cut, blood seeping through the thin fabric of his jumpsuit. But the whispers that followed him weren't Spider's this time.
"He took Rico down clean."
"He didn't even swing wild."
"Spider's losing his grip."
That night, Dre's voice came through the wall, gravel but proud. "You crossed a line today, Scrap. Not the one Spider wanted—the one the block needed to see. They can't call you weak now. They can't call you a snitch. They saw the truth."
Jayden opened his sketchbook with his left hand, the right too sore to grip. He drew the blade lying broken in the dirt, Rico on his knees, Spider watching from the shadows. Over it, he drew a torch, flame steady.
Underneath, he wrote: Fire isn't chaos. Fire is choice.