Surya and his friends were transported to Central Jail.
The van doors clanged open, and the weight of the prison's silence hit them like a wall. Towering concrete walls rose like sentinels, and rusted iron gates groaned under their own age. This place didn't reform men—it buried them.
Rajiv was already waiting outside.
The moment Surya stepped out, Rajiv grabbed him by the collar.
"Surya," he growled. "I told you not to screw this up. This is the only place I can't protect you. You're on your own now."
His tone darkened.
"And be careful. Our leader's here. The founder of the main tower. His name is Victor. Ryan locked him up because he couldn't be controlled. He's dangerous. He's been waiting for something—or someone. Don't give him a reason."
Surya didn't speak. He just nodded once and walked through the gates.
The prison was a maze of cells, shadows, and stares.
As Surya, Jey, and the others were led through the corridors, inmates muttered under their breath. Some laughed. Others watched silently, eyes like knives.
And then—he appeared.
Victor.
He walked down the hallway with the calm of a man who owned everything he saw. Prisoners stepped aside. Even the guards nodded.
He moved like a king.
He stopped in front of Surya.
"So you're Rajiv's little wolf," Victor smirked. "The big bad of the South Zone? Hah... Smart move."
His laughter stabbed through Surya's memory like a knife through silk.
Surya's stomach twisted. That laugh.
He knew it.
The face. The voice.
The night his mother died.
His hands clenched involuntarily. Fire roared behind his eyes.
Victor stared back with eerie calm.
"I like that fire," he said. "Before Rajiv, the South Zone was mine. Ryan played dirty and left me here. But I'll get out. I'll take everything back. I could use someone like you. Join me. I'll make you second-in-command."
Surya's reply was cold. Instant.
"No."
Victor's smile vanished. His jaw tightened.
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
That night, in their cell, silence sat like a weight on everyone's shoulders.
Verma spoke first.
"You should've taken the offer. It'd be safer."
Others nodded. But Jey shook his head.
"We don't need Victor. We'll fight our way up like everyone else."
Surya didn't speak.
He sat in the dark long after the others slept.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a bent metal fork, and unwrapped the cloth on his forearm.
Carved into the skin:
VICTOR
Jey stirred in his bunk. He saw—but said nothing.
The days passed, heavy with tension.
Victor's bullying was relentless. His insults cut deeper than fists. Even the guards let it happen.
For a month, Surya said nothing. Endured everything.
He waited.
Then it came.
The cafeteria buzzed with noise and steam.
Surya sat at a corner table, head down, eating quietly.
Victor arrived late, flanked by his followers. He swaggered through the room like he owned the oxygen.
He stopped beside Surya.
Without a word, he grabbed the tray—and slammed it into Surya's face.
Food and metal scattered. The hall roared with laughter.
Victor didn't look back.
He strolled to his seat, smirking.
Then he started speaking.
"There was this one night," he said, chuckling. "Ryan, me, two of the others—we were drunk. Followed some woman through the slums. She ran into a hut, thought she was safe."
Surya looked up slowly, every muscle in his body stiffening.
"We kicked the door down. She screamed. I grabbed the kid hiding behind her—threw him into the mud. Her cries… his screaming outside..."
Victor closed his eyes, grinning.
"That was the best night of my life."
Laughter.
Except from one man.
Surya stood up.
He didn't breathe.
Didn't think.
He saw mud. He saw blood. He saw the door that never opened.
Then the storm broke.
He pulled the fork from his pocket.
Jey saw it. His eyes widened.
"No—!"
But Surya was already moving.
Verma, Karthik, and Raju stood to block the others.
The cafeteria blurred around him.
He reached Victor in seconds and, with no hesitation, drove the fork deep into his neck.
Victor gasped, blood spurting across the table.
Then Surya grabbed his head—his hand curling into the man's hair like a claw—and slammed his face into the metal bench.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
Blood exploded across the steel.
The room fell silent.
Victor flailed. Gurgled.
But Surya didn't stop.
"That was my mother," he whispered through clenched teeth.
"That was me in the mud."
He slammed Victor's face again.
And again.
Until bone cracked.
Until blood soaked his arms.
Until Victor stopped moving.
The laughter, the whispers, the cafeteria—all gone.
Even the guards stood frozen.
Surya stood over Victor's lifeless body, blood dripping from his hands, chest heaving.
His eyes were glass. Cold. Unreadable.
He turned… and walked out.
Back in the cell, no one spoke.
Surya unwrapped the cloth on his arm.
Victor's name—crossed out in red.
Jey finally broke the silence.
"Surya... do you know what you've done?"
No answer.
"You killed a founder. There will be consequences."
Still nothing.
Finally, Jey sat beside him. Quiet. Gentle.
"Why did you do it?"
A long pause.
Then, Surya spoke.
He told him everything.
About the rain. The bread. The door. The screams.
He showed Jey the names on his arm.
Victor
Ryan
Michael
One Unknown
Each name carved into flesh. Into memory.
Jey's voice trembled.
"You've been carrying this… alone."
He reached out and took Surya's hand.
"Not anymore. You trusted me. I'll help you finish this. I swear it."
Elsewhere in the prison, a guard picked up a phone.
"Ryan… Victor's dead."
There was silence.
Then soft laughter.
Ryan's voice came through—calm and slow.
"Clean the mess. Don't touch Surya."
He ended the call.
Then whispered to himself:
"Interesting...
This Surya…
I like him."
In the darkness of the cell, Surya whispered:
"One is gone.
Three more remain."
And this time, the rage didn't burn.
It waited.
Quiet.
Patient.
Deadly.