CHAPTER 04

Elijah Vaughn

I was yanked without warning, stumbling as I was dragged into the kitchen. My heart pounded, my mind still stuck on what had happened in the cafeteria. Those dark, dangerous eyes had pierced right through me—like he already owned me before we’d even met.

As soon as we crossed the door, I was shoved against the wall, his hands gripping my shoulders with force. His eyes blazed with fury.

"Why the hell did you look at him?!" His explosive tone made my entire body tremble. "I told you not to look at the Reaper, damn it! Do you have a death wish?"

My hands shook. Shock completely took over.

"I-I... I'm sorry..."

He didn’t let me finish.

"Don’t give me some half-assed apology, rookie! I’m trying to help you, and you just ignore everything I say."

He slammed his fists against the wall beside my head.

"Don’t blame me if the Reaper decides to kill you or rape you."

A cold shiver ran down my spine. Just the thought of being violated by that monstrous man twisted my stomach into knots.

Fox let out a long sigh and ran a hand down his face, trying to calm himself.

"Look, sorry for snapping. But you pissed me off when you didn’t listen."

Still in shock, I let out a shaky breath.

"I-I just wanted to know who he was so I could avoid him... I didn’t realize he was already watching us."

He rolled his eyes, sighing again—this time more exhausted than angry.

"Let’s just hope he ignores you for now."

I nodded, a heavy weight settling on my chest. I wasn’t so sure he would.

Fox studied me for a moment before changing the subject.

"What’s your name?"

I swallowed hard.

"Elijah... Elijah Vaughn."

He nodded, but his expression grew more serious.

"Nobody uses real names in here. You’d better pick a nickname."

I frowned.

"Why?"

He let out a humorless laugh.

"Because real names are weaknesses."

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

"In here, you’re just another convict. If they know who you really are, they’ll dig into your story, your fears. And trust me—you don’t want anyone having that kind of power over you."

My palms started to sweat.

"But what’s the difference? I’m already stuck here."

His eyes narrowed.

"The difference is, if they know your name, they can use it against you. If someone here knows someone out there... someone who could hurt you—a friend, a family member... A real name is a burden. A nickname protects you. Makes you less vulnerable."

My chest tightened.

My family... the ones who abandoned me.

He noticed my expression and scoffed.

"See? That’s exactly why we don’t use names. Around here, identity is a curse."

I swallowed hard, letting his words sink in.

"And you? Why Fox?"

A faint smile touched his lips.

"I didn’t choose it. They gave it to me. Said I’m clever—always find a way to escape the worst situations. Like a fox."

I nodded slowly.

Changing my name felt strange.

But maybe it was necessary to survive.

He sighed deeply and stepped away from the counter.

"Come on. Let me show you how the kitchen works and what your job will be."

He gestured around. The kitchen was big but chaotic. Prisoners in orange and black uniforms moved between filthy counters, carrying trays and stirring massive pots.

"Everyone has a job here. Some cook, some clean, some serve, and others manage ingredients. But listen carefully—if the food’s bad, the cafeteria turns into hell." His eyes locked onto mine. "I’ve seen men killed over less."

I swallowed hard.

"B-But the food today was horrible."

He ran a hand down his face, clearly impatient.

"We’re used to that crap. So if you’re going to change something, make sure it’s better. Otherwise, you already know what can happen."

I nodded quickly.

"And what will my job be?"

He eyed me for a moment, then pointed toward a pile of boxes in the corner.

"You’ll start in storage. Organize ingredients, check the quantities, and pass them to the cooks. It’s not hard, but it’s not easy either. And one more thing—if you see someone stealing, pretend you didn’t. Got it?"

I must’ve hesitated, because he gave a dry laugh.

"Better than serving the wrong guys. Trust me—in storage, at least no one will stab you over a portion mix-up."

I took a deep breath and nodded.

"Since it’s your first day, I’ll show you around the prison. That way, if I’m not around, you won’t get lost."

I followed him, still feeling a tightness in my chest. As soon as we stepped out of the kitchen, the tension returned. The stares were sharper. I kept my head down, trying to ignore them, but my whole body froze when I felt a hand slide over my ass.

A jolt of panic shot through every nerve.

"Nice little ass. Wonder what it looks like without the uniform?" Malicious laughter echoed around us.

My stomach churned.

I forced myself to look—and instantly regretted it.

A group of prisoners, both in black and orange uniforms, loitered across the cafeteria. The man who had touched me stood slowly, a predatory grin spreading across his face.

"Tell me, sweetheart. What’s your name?" His voice was slow and cruel.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

"I-I..."

He laughed at my hesitation.

"Don’t worry, baby boy. I know you haven’t picked a group yet. I’d love to make you my little bitch." His hand slid over my ass again.

My blood turned to ice. Every instinct screamed at me to run—but my legs wouldn’t move.

And then, everything changed in seconds.

The sound of flesh and bone slamming against metal echoed through the cafeteria.

The man who touched me had his face brutally smashed against the table. Blood splattered across the floor, staining the feet of nearby inmates.

I gasped, stumbling back and collapsing to the ground. My body trembled as I looked up—and met the imposing figure gripping the man by the hair.

It was him.

The Reaper.

Before anyone could react, he grabbed a knife from beside a tray and drove it into the man’s skull, twisting the blade. The sound of bone breaking was nauseating.

The air left my lungs. My stomach flipped.

I turned my head, sure I was going to vomit.

If Fox hadn’t dragged me out of the cafeteria, I would’ve passed out right there.

The moment we were outside, my body gave in. I dropped to my knees on the cold hallway floor and threw up. The bitter taste burned my throat as my stomach convulsed.

My mind was still stuck in that brutal scene—blood spraying, the sound of steel piercing bone, that merciless look in the Reaper’s eyes.

Fox sighed and gave me a few gentle pats on the back, waiting for me to catch my breath.

"I don’t know what just happened, or why the Reaper reacted like that," he said, voice low and serious. "But it looks like he’s chosen you."

The air disappeared from my lungs. My body froze.

He chose me.

Tears began to fall down my cheeks. Panic surged through me.

"I-I don’t want this, Fox... I can’t belong to that monster..."

He shook his head, sighing wearily.

"Unfortunately, in here, what you want doesn’t matter. To be honest? It’s better to be with him than against him."

My sobs came harder now, fear consuming me.

He crouched slightly, his voice softer now, tinged with pity.

"I’m sorry, rookie. But that’s how things work around here."

He gave me a humorless half-smile and let out a heavy sigh before adding,

"Welcome to Hell."