CHAPTER 4
Blackridge Federal Penitentiary did not look like a building.
It looked like a **mistake**.
A concrete monstrosity carved into the side of a canyon, where the wind screamed through like a trapped animal. Floodlights cut jagged white arcs through the rain, illuminating high walls crowned with spirals of electrified razor wire. The entire compound vibrated faintly, as though something *beneath* it was moving.
The van rolled to a stop at the main gate.
A guard in a black rain poncho approached, flashlight beam slicing through the storm. He barely glanced at the paperwork.
"Transfer V-391?" he asked.
"Yes," the driver said. "High-level breach, federal override."
The guard hesitated. Just slightly.
Then:
"Open it."
The gates groaned like the jaws of something ancient being forced apart.
Kade watched them through the barred glass.
Watched the rain dripping from steel like blood.
Watched the guard's expression—
An expression that said:
*You don't belong here. No one should.*
The van advanced.
The gates slammed shut behind them with the finality of a coffin lid.
---
Inside, the processing bay was a cathedral of steel.
Cold. Tall. Echoing.
Four guards stood waiting in black tactical armor, faces hidden behind polished visors. Kade stepped out, chains rattling, and the cold air hit him like a slap.
One guard scanned him with a handheld device.
A shrill beep.
He frowned.
"No biometric signature on record," the guard muttered.
Another guard replied, "Citadel override. He's off-grid."
The first guard looked up sharply.
"Citadel? They're sending people here now?"
"They're taking people," the second corrected. "There's a difference."
Kade watched their exchange carefully.
He wasn't the only one afraid of Citadel.
Good.
Fear meant cracks.
Cracks meant opportunity.
---
He was shoved toward a steel desk where a woman sat, expression stern enough to crack stone. She had the hard, unforgiving face of someone who'd survived Blackridge long enough to become part of it.
She didn't look at him at first—just tapped keys, bringing up an empty profile.
"Name," she demanded.
He didn't answer.
She raised an eyebrow.
"You can speak. Makes this easier."
"Kade Vance."
She typed.
The screen remained blank.
"No identity found. No birth record. No national file."
She squinted.
"You a ghost, Vance?"
"Not by choice."
She leaned back, studying him. There was annoyance in her eyes—but interest too.
"Ghosts don't get sent to Blackridge," she said.
"They get erased."
Kade smiled faintly.
"That's comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
She snapped a metal collar around his neck—cold, heavy, humming faintly.
"Adaptive compliance collar," she explained.
"Tracks heartbeat, blood pressure, electrical brain impulse. Try anything—run, fight, sneeze wrong—this thing will fry your nervous system like plantain."
Kade raised an eyebrow.
"Sounds painful."
"You'll live," she said. "Maybe."
Another guard approached.
Tall. Scar across his jaw. Eyes like someone who'd forgotten what empathy was.
"Vance," he said, reading the temporary wrist tag. "Block E."
The woman stopped typing.
"Block E?" she echoed. "That's where they house the—"
Her sentence froze.
Her face paled.
"Is that order legit?"
The scarred guard held up a tablet.
"Direct from Citadel. He's flagged Priority Black."
The room fell silent.
One guard swallowed audibly.
Priority Black wasn't a category.
It was a warning.
**Do not question. Do not delay. Do not interfere.**
The scarred guard yanked Kade's chains.
"Move."
---
They marched him through the belly of Blackridge.
Past cells where men watched him with hollow eyes.
Past solitary rooms where muffled screams echoed.
Past a door marked **BIO-COLD STORAGE — AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY**, where frost spilled beneath the frame like leaking ghosts.
Kade didn't flinch.
Not even when he passed a small window and saw a man strapped to a surgical table, convulsing under bright white lights.
The escorts didn't slow.
Blackridge wasn't a prison.
It was a **research vessel wearing a prison's skin**.
And Citadel was the captain.
---
Block E was deeper—so deep the air itself felt older.
The guard stopped at a cell door and hammered a code into the keypad.
The door slid open with a grating metallic scream.
"Welcome home," the guard said, shoving him in. "Try not to die too quick. The folks downstairs get picky."
The door slammed shut.
Darkness engulfed him for a few seconds before a dim light flickered on.
Kade took in his surroundings.
A bed bolted to the wall.
A toilet.
A sink.
A single camera hidden behind black glass.
And—
A man sitting calmly on the lower bunk.
He was lean, sharp-featured, with the dangerous stillness of a predator conserving energy. His eyes were deep-set, intelligent, watching Kade like a mathematician observing a puzzle.
"New roommate," the man said softly.
"Or new experiment."
Kade didn't respond.
The man extended a hand casually.
"Dorian Vale."
Kade froze.
That name.
That voice.
He knew it.
Dorian Vale.
The Citadel operative who'd sat across from him in the silent van.
The one who'd spoken like death had taught him manners.
Except now…
He looked human.
Relaxed.
Almost amused.
Kade's pulse quickened—just slightly.
"You're not supposed to be here," Kade said quietly.
Dorian's smile sharpened.
"Everyone in Blackridge is exactly where they're supposed to be."
He leaned forward, eyes glinting.
"Including you, Kade."
Kade stepped back instinctively.
Dorian's smile widened in a way that held no warmth whatsoever.
"You're in Block E," he said softly.
"Do you know the nickname?"
Kade didn't answer.
Dorian did.
"**E** stands for **Extraction**."
He tapped the metal collar around Kade's neck.
"And they're going to pull something out of you long before they consider letting you escape."
He held Kade's gaze.
"But lucky for you… I need you alive."
Kade inhaled slow, steady, measuring him.
"Why?" he asked.
Dorian's expression shifted—something like admiration mixed with danger.
"Because, Mr. Vance," he said, leaning back against the wall,
**"we're going to break out of Blackridge.
Together."**
And then he added, almost gently:
"But first… we're going to find your brother."