The sun filtered dimly onto the prison yard. Ethan was doing sets of rudimentary weightlifting alongside his lieutenants while other inmates played and shouted on the periphery.

"These holidays have been fun and relaxing," Ethan said, easily lifting a weight.

"I agree, Boss," responded Jason, who was practicing a new striking pattern. "I've made good progress in my fighting style. I bet I could win the world championship now."

"What do you guys think?" Ethan asked, looking at the other members working out under the watchful eyes of José and Antonio. "Do you feel stronger? More vigorous?"

"Of course, Boss," replied Antonio, narrowly beating José to the response. "I feel stronger than ever."

"Glad to hear it. Training is the only way to survive this," Ethan said.

On one side of the yard, several gangs were staring at them, but no one dared to approach. Over the past few weeks, they had learned the hard way what it meant to mess with the "King of the Prison."

The peace in Lexington had been bought with blood and terror.

Dozens of inmates who had tried to attack or poison Ethan were now either in the hospital infirmary, immobilized, or had simply disappeared mysteriously; no one had seen their bodies again. The guards merely shrugged, citing "emergency transfers."

The rumor had spread like an unstoppable virus: Ethan had a pact with demons, and they would come at night to take your soul if you bothered him. Everyone was terrified.

Two guards approached Ethan, asking for permission before speaking.

"Mr. Blake," one said in a soft voice. "The Warden requests that we escort you to her office. If it's not too much trouble."

Ethan smiled. "Of course, gentlemen. Let's see what the Warden wants."

Warden Hayes greeted him in her private office with a whiskey on the rocks in her hand, leaving a complete bottle of high-end liquor on the desk for him.

Ethan greeted her naturally. The Warden was now much more open and calm with him. Their relationship had normalized in a strange way: every three or four days, she would call him to her private office for Ethan to ruthlessly use her, which she immensely enjoyed. The place almost had Ethan's name on the decorations.

Ethan sat down, picked up the full bottle, and took a big swig. Despite being unable to get drunk thanks to his System, he still enjoyed the warm, burning sensation in his throat.

"Good morning, Warden," Ethan said, setting the bottle down with a solid thud. "I hope you haven't called me just to enjoy my company. I know you have a reputation to maintain."

Warden Hayes laughed softly at Ethan's comment, swirling the ice in her glass. "It's not as if no one knows you come to enjoy my company for a few hours now and then."

"That, honestly, is very good publicity for me," Ethan countered, his smile widening. "The Iron Lady screams for hours under my touch. All the inmates, you know, they've offered me their mothers and sisters to amuse myself with."

"I see you suffer so much," Hayes said dryly, setting her glass down. "But I actually called you in for a couple of pieces of bad news. Read this."

She slid a thin manila folder across the desk.

Ethan opened the folder and found transfer letters for Jason, José, and Antonio, all scheduled for immediate relocation to different state prisons. Ethan laughed, a short, sharp sound of amusement.

"It took them long enough to make their move," Ethan said. "I thought they no longer cared. For a moment, I almost felt abandoned."

"Did you look at where they are being transferred?" Hayes asked.

Ethan had actually overlooked the destination. He quickly scanned the papers again and saw that they were being sent to a minimum-security state facility in Oakwood.

"That's strange," Ethan mused aloud. "Shouldn't they be sent to another maximum-security federal prison?"

Hayes leaned forward, her expression turning professional. "No. That would actually be the stupidest thing Vance could possibly do."

"Why?"

"Because federal prisons belong to the Federation; they are administered directly by the government," Hayes explained. "If he wanted to move someone from here to another federal prison, he would have to publicly justify it. He would have to give hundreds of interviews explaining to half of the country why he wanted them transferred, and I don't think he could explain that without implicating himself."

Ethan took another contemplative sip of whiskey. "Then what am I missing?"

"It's quite simple," Hayes said, the veteran prison administrator speaking. "He doesn't want to give explanations because he isn't stupid. Therefore, he argued that they had been unjustly convicted. He destroyed some evidence, pushed a friendly prosecutor to declare them absolved of their current charges, and got them transferred to a state facility. He'll get them there, and then, claiming some 'administrative error' or 'parole violation,' he will transfer them back, or more likely, simply have them disappear during the transfer process."

Hayes took a final, heavy drag of her drink. "I've seen that move many times, Mr. Blake. You have no idea."

"So," Ethan said, his voice dropping, "this transfer will be dangerous?"

Warden Hayes got up from her chair, walked over to him, and sat down on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him deeply, and murmured against his mouth: "Well, there's another folder you need to read, and then you'll understand why I called you with such urgency."

She picked up the second folder and handed it to him.

Ethan held her, stroking her prominent curves through her uniform. "Is this serious?" he asked, his voice low.

"Every word, effective immediately," she confirmed. "In fact, it was sent two days ago, but they only delivered it to me today, ensuring I had no time to make any moves or call anyone. The sons of bitches put a lot of effort into this."

Ethan sighed, his mind racing through the implications. He opened the second folder. Inside was the transfer letter for Warden Hayes herself, signed with the official seal.

"It seems they want me dead at all costs," Ethan observed quietly.

Hayes, still nestled in his arms, kissed him once more, her breath ragged. "Is there anything I can do for you before I go?"

Ethan's gaze, which had been distant and calculating, settled back onto her. "Yes," he said, his voice firming with resolve. "I think there is one thing you can do..."

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