The Rise of a King

Blackridge had new rules. Jasper's rules.

But power wasn't just about taking down one man.

It was about keeping the throne.

And Jasper? Wasn't letting go.

The prison yard was different now. The air, the way men looked at each other—everything had shifted.

Pante's fall left a vacuum. And in Blackridge, power vacuums got filled fast.

The question was by who?

Jasper already knew the answer.

He sat at his usual spot in the yard, back to the wall, scanning the faces around him. The factions were watching, waiting.

The Aryans, led by a brute named Carl Briggs. Violent, organized, but not as sharp as they thought.

The Latinos, run by Raul "El Lobo" Soriano. Calculating, disciplined, but cautious.

The Black Hand, a brutal collective that operated in the shadows. Their leader? Unknown.

And then, there was Mark.

His people weren't the biggest, or the most feared. But they had loyalty. And in Blackridge? That was everything.

Jasper needed allies. And he needed them fast.

So he started with Raul.

The cafeteria was buzzing, but when Jasper walked in, it went silent.

Men whispered. Some nodded in respect. Others glared.

Jasper ignored them. His target was already seated—Raul Soriano.

The Latino leader looked up as Jasper sat across from him.

"Brave move," Raul murmured, sipping his coffee. "Pante's barely cold, and you're already making rounds?"

Jasper smirked. "You know how it is. Gotta keep things moving."

Raul leaned back. "So, what do you want, Cruz?"

Jasper didn't waste time. "Order. Strength. You and me? We can make that happen."

Raul chuckled. "And why would I back you?"

Jasper's eyes darkened. "Because if you don't, someone else will."

Raul held his gaze. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Terms?"

Jasper didn't blink.

No unnecessary fights. No chaos. Business runs smooth.

If a problem arises, they settle it— together.

And in return? Jasper gives Raul's men protection from guards looking for an excuse to crack skulls.

Raul thought it over. Then, he smirked.

"You've got yourself a deal, Cruz."

They shook hands.

But power didn't come without opposition.

And Carter Briggs? Wasn't happy.

The Aryan leader stepped into the yard later that day, eyes locked on Jasper. His crew followed close behind.

"I got a problem, Cruz," Briggs called out.

Jasper turned, calm. "That so?"

Briggs smirked. "Yeah. You think you can walk in, make deals, and call yourself king? Without earning it?"

Jasper sighed. "You want a fight, Briggs?"

Briggs cracked his knuckles. "I want a reminder of who runs things here."

Jasper smirked. "Then let's remind them."

The yard formed a circle.

Jasper and Briggs stepped inside. No guards stopping it. Blackridge had its own laws.

Briggs swung first—a wild, powerful punch aimed at Jasper's jaw.

Jasper dodged.

He countered with a quick jab to the ribs. Fast, precise.

Briggs grunted, staggered.

But he was a brawler—he could take hits. He lunged again, grabbing Jasper's shirt, yanking him forward.

A knee to the gut. A brutal elbow to Jasper's back.

Pain shot through him, but Jasper didn't crumble. Didn't fall.

Instead?

He used the momentum.

Spinning, Jasper slammed an elbow into Briggs's temple. Hard.

Briggs stumbled. Dazed.

Jasper didn't stop.

He rushed forward. Two more punches—one to the gut, the other to the jaw.

Briggs went down.

The yard was silent.

Jasper stood over him, breathing hard. Then, he offered his hand.

Briggs glared. Then, finally, he took it.

A silent understanding.

Jasper wasn't just some lucky fighter.

He was Blackridge's new power.

Deals were made. Fights were won. But Jasper knew—fear sealed the deal.

And there was one last group that needed a message.

The Black Hand.

Their leader was still in the shadows. But Jasper? Was done waiting.

That night, he sent a message.

A simple note slipped under a cell door.

Midnight. Laundry Room. Come alone.

The response?

A single word written back.

Understood.

At midnight, Jasper stepped into the laundry room.

A single figure stood waiting. A hood pulled low over his face.

Jasper stepped forward. "We need to talk."

The man's voice was cold. "Then talk."

Jasper's expression didn't change. "I don't care what you do in the shadows. But you touch my people? We have a problem."

A slow chuckle. "And if I say no?"

Jasper's jaw tightened. "Then I come for you."

A pause.

Then, the figure nodded.

"No need for war. Not yet."

Jasper smirked. "Then we have an understanding."

And just like that?

Blackridge was his.