The yard had never been quiet like that before. Not even after fights, not even after blood. When Rico's blade clattered to the dirt and Jayden stood tall above him, the silence was heavier than any roar.
And Spider knew it. His grin cracked for everyone to see.
---
The Whispers Grow
By morning, the whispers weren't whispers anymore.
"Rico dropped the blade."
"Spider gave it to him."
"Carter stood clean. Didn't even lose control."
It spread through the cafeteria, through the showers, even through the rec yard where Spider once held court. The story was shifting, and no matter how loud Spider laughed, the block didn't laugh with him anymore.
Jayden felt the eyes on him again, but they weren't filled with suspicion this time. Some were cautious, others curious, and a few were something closer to respect. For weeks he'd been called a snitch, a liar, a target. Now, for the first time, the block was asking itself: What if Carter's the one telling the truth?
---
Rico's Fall
Rico stayed hunched in the corner, lip split, eyes blackened. The swagger was gone. The limp that Jayden had given him in the yard weeks before had returned.
When Spider barked orders, Rico didn't move as fast. When Spider laughed, Rico didn't echo it quite as loud. Even his eyes told the story—fear creeping where pride used to be.
Jayden didn't need to touch him again. Rico was bleeding without fists now.
---
Spider's Desperation
Spider tried to reclaim the stage. He stood in the cafeteria, voice booming. "Carter's playing you! Don't you see it? He's staff's pet, he's got the guards covering for him—"
But one boy in the back shouted, "Then why'd Rico have the steel?"
The room went quiet. Spider's grin froze, his eyes flashing. He snapped, "Shut your mouth."
But the damage was done. Doubt had taken root.
---
Dre's Counsel
That night, Dre's voice came through the wall, rough but steady. "You see it, Scrap? You broke him. Not with fists. With patience. With control."
Jayden's throat tightened. "He'll come again."
"Of course he will," Dre said. "But listen—the block's different now. Every time you held the fire, every time you didn't play his game, you showed them something he couldn't. That's power. That's leadership."
Jayden lay back, chest heaving, fire burning steady inside him. For so long, all he'd thought about was surviving Spider. But now, for the first time, he wondered if Dre was right—if this wasn't just about survival anymore.
---
The Sketch
He opened his sketchbook, pencil trembling but steadying with each line. He drew Spider as a shadow crumbling, strings falling limp around him. Rico slumped at his side, blade broken at his feet.
And above them, he drew himself—not raging fire, not a wild torch, but a steady flame casting light over the block.
Underneath he wrote: Fire doesn't follow. Fire leads.
---
The Block's Eyes
The next day, he felt it everywhere. Boys moved aside for him in the cafeteria, not out of fear but out of acknowledgment. In the yard, eyes followed him, waiting—not for him to break, but for him to act.
Even Spider felt it. His grin was gone, replaced with a tight sneer. He still had shadows, still had strings, but they were weaker now, trembling in his hands.
And Jayden knew: the web was breaking.
For the first time since he'd been swallowed by the system, he wasn't just surviving the block. He was shaping it.