The First Lesson

Jasper awoke to the sound of a loud buzzer, his body aching from the beating the day before. He sat up on the thin mattress, rubbing his bruised ribs as the prison's morning routine kicked into motion. Guards patrolled the halls, shouting orders as inmates shuffled out of their cells like soldiers in a war zone.

Today, he was meeting Mark Clarin.

Jasper stepped out into the yard, the sun doing little to warm the cold concrete beneath his feet. Mark was already waiting near the pull-up bars, arms crossed, eyes scanning him like a hawk assessing prey.

"You showed up," Mark said. "That's the first step. Now let's see if you can keep up."

Mark nodded, determined. He had no choice but to grow stronger.

Mark led him through an intense workout—push-ups, squats, pull-ups, and burpees until Jasper's muscles burned and his vision blurred. But Mark wasn't just testing his endurance; he was testing his willpower.

"You break here, you break everywhere," Mark said, watching Jasper struggle to push through another set. "Pain is your new friend. Get used to it."

Jasper gritted his teeth and kept going. His body screamed for rest, but his mind wouldn't let him quit. He thought about Ben Zemmer, about the smirk in the courtroom, about the betrayal that led him to this place. Each push-up, each bead of sweat, was another step toward revenge.

By the time Mark finally let him rest, Jasper was barely able to stand. He leaned against the pull-up bar, breathing hard. But there was something new in his chest—pride. He had survived his first lesson.

Mark studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Not bad. But this is just the beginning."

Jasper wiped the sweat from his forehead and met Mark's gaze. "I don't care how long it takes. Make me strong."

Mark smirked. "You'll regret saying that."

Jasper didn't care. He had nothing left to lose.

Only a war to win.