They Framed Me and Put Me in a Maximum-Security Prison—But They Forgot Who I Was

Before she was framed and sent to this hellhole, Skye was not just a detective; she was a highly trained tactical specialist who had spent years operating in the darkest corners of the world. She had survived situations far worse than a prison yard. When Roman lunged forward, throwing a massive, heavy fist aimed directly at her temple, Skye moved with blinding speed.

The Tables Turn

She slipped inside his guard, dodging the punch by a fraction of an inch. Before Roman could register that he had missed, Skye drove the heel of her palm directly upward into his nose. The sound of cartilage shattering echoed through the silent yard. Roman roared in pain, stumbling backward as dark blood began to pour down his face. The mocking cheers of the crowd instantly died out, replaced by stunned gasps.

Roman, now blinded by fury, lunged again. But Skye was already moving. She swept his massive legs out from under him with a perfectly timed low kick. The giant fell, his colossal frame crashing heavily onto the hard concrete. Before he could recover, Skye pinned him, her knee pressed hard against his throat, cutting off his air supply.

"Your boss on the outside paid you to kill me, didn't he?" Skye whispered, her voice cold as ice. "But you're going to help me instead. Or I will end you right here."

Roman stared up at her, the mocking grin replaced by genuine, paralyzing fear. He nodded weakly. But before Skye could press for details, the heavy iron gate of the courtyard creaked open. Walking into the yard was Warden Thomas, flanked by three armed guards. Next to them was a man in an expensive gray suit. It was Marcus Vance—Skye's former partner, and the very man who had framed her.