Chapter 5: The Law of the Jungle

*** Sev’s POV ***

This place reeks of saltwater and rot. The stench seeps through these thick, windowless walls, a constant reminder that we’re buried alive. I can hear the muffled roar of the ocean, even through the concrete. It’s always there, gnawing at my brain like a bad fucking memory I can’t shake.

This prison, this godforsaken shithole, isn’t like the others. It’s a black site, a dumping ground for the worst of the worst. They brought us here just under six months ago - yanked us out of our cells in the middle of the night, threw black bags over our heads, and stuffed us into some vehicle like we were cattle. Then, nothing but darkness and the hum of the engine. No sense of time, no clue where they were taking us. We crossed over water, I know that much - I heard the waves slapping against the hull, felt the slight sway as we crossed from the mainland to wherever we are now. When they finally ripped the bags off, we were here. No visitors, no contact with the outside world. For all I know, the families of these poor bastards stuck here with me think they’re dead. Not that it matters to me. I don’t have anyone left to care.

I glance over at Maks Petrov, my second in command. He’s crouched by the bars, his eyes narrowed, watching the guards with that cold, calculating look he gets when he’s planning something. We’re talking in code, like always. Not a word needs to be said, but we know what’s coming.

“Sevenfold,” Maks mutters, just loud enough for me to catch.

I nod. Sevenfold. The world may take everything, but we take it back sevenfold. It’s how we’ve lived, how we’ve survived through all this shit. The Sevens don’t forget, and we sure as hell don’t forgive. We ran New York—owned the underground. The Russian mafia? That’s us. The city was ours before they threw us in here. I didn’t choose this life. I was born into it, baptized in blood and violence.

The guards here? Different breed. Tight-lipped bastards, every single one. I’ve tried to squeeze information out of them, tried to figure out what the hell this place is, but they’re like stone. Unbreakable. And the other prisoners? Fuck me, this place is crawling with the worst humanity has to offer. Aryan Brotherhood, United Blood Nation, the New Mexican Mafia, even a fucking cannibal lurking in the shadows. This isn’t just prison—it’s a goddamn war zone. Back in New York, we ruled the roost, but here… Here, we’ve had to claw and fight for every inch of ground. This place is a jungle, and only the strongest, the most ruthless, survive.

And I plan on being the last one standing.

I run my fingers over the “7” tattoo on my chest. It’s a brand, a reminder of who I am, what I’ve done, and what I’ll keep doing to stay on top. They’ll have to kill me to get rid of me, and even then, I’ll haunt these fucking halls.

I catch sight of Dmitri Ivanov, our enforcer, standing by the door, his massive frame blocking most of the light. He’s got that dead look in his eyes, the same one I had when I butchered the bastards who slaughtered my family back in Brooklyn. No remorse, no hesitation—just pure, cold rage. Dmitri’s waiting for my signal, and when I give it, he’ll rip that rival gang leader apart like a wolf on fresh meat.

I rake a hand through my hair, feeling the cold steel of the bars against my knuckles. My fingers brush over the teardrop tattoo beneath my eye, the one that marks my losses, my pain.

I remember the blood. So much blood. My family hacked to pieces, my sisters’ screams echoing in my ears. I hunted those motherfuckers down, every last one of them. It wasn’t just revenge—it was justice. Public, brutal, and very, very final. It’s what landed me in a cell three years ago, at the age of 24. But I’d do it all over again if I had to. Hell, I’d do worse.

A sound catches my attention—a chopper, flying high overhead. I tense, listening. Sometimes they hover, teasing us with the sound of freedom just out of reach. I wonder if this one will land, if there’s a landing pad somewhere on this godforsaken rock or up on the cliffs above the prison. But no, the sound fades, getting more distant. Not today.

My gaze shifts to Kolya, our smuggler. He’s leaning against the wall, eyes half-closed, looking like he’s asleep on his feet. But I know better. Kolya’s always alert, always listening. He’s got a knack for getting things in and out of places, no matter how tight the security. If anyone can figure out how to get us off this island, it’s him. But right now, we’ve got other business.

Maks catches my eye and gives a slight nod. It’s time.

“Dmitri,” I murmur, just loud enough for him to hear. “You ready?”

He doesn’t answer, just cracks his knuckles and steps forward. That’s all I need.

We move as one, slipping through the shadows like we belong to them. The guards are distracted, their attention on something happening across the yard. Perfect.

I think about how we ended up here, on this forgotten rock in the middle of nowhere. The guards pulled us out of our cells in the dead of night, no warning, no explanation. They didn’t need one. We’re the worst of the worst, the kind of monsters regular prisons can’t handle. But this place… it’s a different beast. It’s where they send the ones they want forgotten, the ones too dangerous to be left in the system. And the only way to survive is to be the biggest, baddest monster of them all.

We slip through the corridors, silent and deadly, until we reach the cell where our target is holed up. The head of the rival gang. He’s a big shot, or at least he thinks he is. But he doesn’t know what’s coming.

“Kolya, you got the door?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Kolya grins, a flash of teeth in the dim light, and pulls out a set of lock picks. In seconds, the door clicks open, and we’re in.

The rival gang leader is sitting on his bunk, looking like he just saw a ghost. I give him a slow, cold smile. He should be scared. He’s about to get a taste of the Sevens’ brand of justice.

“You picked the wrong side,” I tell him, my voice low and dangerous. “Now, you pay.”

He tries to scramble to his feet, but Dmitri’s on him before he can even blink. The sound of bones breaking echoes through the small cell as Dmitri’s fists do their work. I watch, heart steady, breathing even. This is what we do. This is who we are.

Maks steps forward, his hand resting on my shoulder. “Sev,” he says quietly, “it’s done.”

I nod, my gaze never leaving the broken, bloody body on the floor. Another mark on our record. Another reminder of what happens when you cross the Sevens. But this isn’t just about survival. It’s about sending a message. We’re the Sevens. The world may take everything, but we take it back sevenfold. And no one, not even the most twisted monsters in this hellhole, can stand against us.

We leave the cell as silently as we came, slipping back into the shadows. The guards will find the body soon enough, but by then, we’ll be long gone, blending back into the chaos of this prison.

As we make our way back to our territory, I can’t help but think about the past, about the life I had in NYC. The power, the control. We ran the streets, owned the criminal underground. But this place… it’s different. It’s a jungle, and the rules here are even more brutal. But one thing remains the same: only the strong survive.

I catch the scent of the sea again, that briny tang that always lingers in the air. It reminds me of the smell of a woman, something I haven’t had in god knows how long.

We reach our cell block, and the others fall back, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I stare out at the bleak, gray walls, at the bars that cage us like animals. But I’m not just an animal. I’m a predator. And predators don’t just survive. They dominate.

As I lie back on my bunk, I close my eyes and let the sound of the sea lull me into a restless sleep. Tomorrow is another day. Another battle. Another chance to prove that the Sevens are the kings of this jungle.

And I’ll be damned if anyone takes that crown from me.