The alarm didn't scream; it groaned—a low, mechanical wail that signaled the "Random Inspection" everyone knew was never random.
"Cell check! Hands on the bars!" the shift lead yelled.
The South Block erupted into a frenzy of movement. Donny didn't panic. Panic was for Valenti's Crew —the new kids who relied on Marcus Holden's lawyers to keep their cells clean. Donny was The King, and he knew that when the air turned cold, it was because Valenti was exhaling.
"Donny," Johnny's voice hissed from the neighboring vent. The Radar was transmitting at high frequency. "It's not the regular squad. It's the 'Greys.' And I see Artie standing by the central desk with a clipboard. He's pointing."
"Hide the Shield's stash, Johnny," Donny whispered back, his voice a calm anchor. "They aren't looking for Lou's contraband cigarettes. They're looking for paper."
Donny felt the scrap of charcoal in his pocket. He had a choice: flush the "Gold Letter" he'd finished last night or risk it. The letter wasn't just poetry; it was his heartbeat on a page.
The heavy steel gate at the end of the tier slid open with a bone-jarring clack.
Four guards marched in, but they weren't leading. Walking alongside them, permitted by a "clerical oversight" arranged by Valenti's influence, was Vince "The Viper" Greco. He wasn't supposed to be on this tier, but in Blackwood, money turned "supposed to" into "whenever I want."
The Viper stopped in front of Donny's cell. He looked at the bars, then at Donny's hands. He was smiling—the kind of smile that made your skin crawl, like a snake contemplating a meal.
"Open 402," Artie Sterling's voice echoed from the desk.
The door rolled back. The guards stepped in, tossing Donny's thin mattress and dumping his meager belongings onto the floor. They weren't looking for shivs. They were looking for the connection.
The Viper leaned against the doorframe, blocking the view of the hallway. "Valenti says hello, Castello," he rasped. "He's worried about you. Thinks you're getting lonely. Thinks maybe you've been talking to people you shouldn't be."
Vince stepped over the pile of Donny's clothes and grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the cold stone wall. "Where is it? The ink. The paper. The little 'thank you' notes you've been scribbling."
Outside the cell, The Shield roared.
"Get your hands off him, you snake!" Big Lou screamed from three cells down, his fists hammering against his own bars so hard the steel rattled. "Touch him again and I'll spend my last day on earth making sure you don't have a face to show Paulie!"
"Shut up, Marciano!" a guard barked, slamming a baton against Lou's bars.
Donny didn't flinch, even as the Viper's grip tightened. He looked past the brute, locking eyes with Artie Sterling, who stood at the end of the tier. Artie was the brain; the Viper was just the fist.
"You're wasting your time, Artie," Donny said, his voice level. "The only thing in this cell is the ghost of the neighborhood you sold out."
The Viper growled and reached for Donny's boot—the traditional hiding spot. He ripped it off, shaking it violently. Nothing fell out.
From the catwalk above, a flashlight beam swept over the cell. Sarah Miller walked the line, her face a mask of professional indifference. Her heart was likely hammering, but her eyes were cold as ice.
"Cell 402 is clear," she announced, her voice booming with an authority that brooked no argument. "Greco, you don't have a clearance to be inside the threshold. Step out now before I report a protocol breach to the Warden's office."
The Viper looked at her, then back at Donny. He dropped the boot and leaned in close to Donny's ear. "We'll find it, King. And when we do, we won't just burn the paper. We'll burn the one who carried it."
As the "Greys" marched out, Sarah passed by one last time. For a heartbeat, her hand brushed the outer bar.
Donny sat back down on his stripped bunk. He reached into the hollow leg of the steel bedframe—a spot even the Viper hadn't checked—and felt the crisp edge of the charcoal-stained paper.
He had saved the letter. But the "No-Badge" silence was starting to scream.