Revenge to the Alpha Mate novel Chapter 267

Chapter 267: Chapter 267

Brett’s Perspective

What we’re doing lately? The coolest thing ever. Seriously, tops anything I’ve ever done—*planning a prison break*. Me, Brett, legit scheming how to bust out of this creepy joint.

Okay, not just "me." "Us." Besides Luka, we’ve cautiously brought in two others. Scarface—quiet, vicious, with an eagle eye for detail. And "Rat"—skinny, agile, ears like a bat, always catching whispers from the corners. We chose them because they can keep their mouths shut, and more importantly, they have the same look in their eyes—the will to live, the fear of just... vanishing. Luka shared a bit about the "disappearances" with them. That was enough. Nobody wants to be next. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Our little group operates in the shadows. During yard time, we mix it up in fake scuffles to exchange whispers. After lights-out, we hold meetings with coded taps on pipes or breaths of speech so low they’re almost thoughts. It’s part military recon, part crime thriller—and it’s a hell of a rush.

We have roles. Scarface watches the guards. Which one slacks off to smoke, where the shift changes leave gaps, which camera angles are blind spots. Rat listens. To guard chatter, to inmate bragging or bitching, trying to piece together the prison’s deeper layout or news from outside. Luka and I synthesize it all, mapping possible routes in our heads, even sketching in the dust with stolen pebbles.

We’ve debated plans. Causing a riot and rushing the gate? Vetoed. Too dumb. Guard firepower unknown. Tunneling? A joke. Can’t even get a decent spoon.Hiding in laundry or garbage trucks? Too chancy, too exposed.

Finally, we focused on the drainage system. The place is old. The pipes must be a maze, but in theory, they lead outside. It’s a classic movie trope, but also the most plausible path—*if* it’s passable.

Turns out, the people running this place aren’t idiots, or maybe others had the same idea before. We got a look at a main pipe during a "clog-clearing" detail (a clog we subtly engineered). Our hearts sank. At a key junction deep in the pipe, big enough to crawl through, a heavy, spiked iron grate was welded shut. Rusted, but despair ly solid.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath. "Knew it couldn’t be that easy."

Brute force? Even shifted, the four of us probably couldn’t manage, and the noise would be a dead giveaway. Tools? A proper spoon was contraband here. Metal tools were a fantasy. Scarface once hid a sharpened plastic shiv and got a brutal lashing for it.

The mood that night was grim. Hope seemed severed by that rusted grid. Rat got demoralized, mumbling about accepting fate. Even Luka was quiet for a long time, his brow furrowed.

But you know what? Just as we wallowed in defeat, reality delivered a harsher blow, one that reignited our determination—or maybe just made it more desperate.

That afternoon in the yard, an old stray wolf from the next cell over—the one who always huddled in the corner, mumbling with cloudy eyes—was taken away by two blank-faced guards. Not transferred, not to the infirmary. Just led out and never seen again. Most inmates barely glanced, or didn’t notice. Comings and goings weren’t unusual.

But Luka’s face went sheet-white. He grabbed my arm, his fingers ice-cold, gripping hard enough to hurt.

"Brett..." His voice shook with a deep, bone-chilling fear. "That guy... he came in the batch before me. I remember him. He’s not old, not really... he just... went crazy in here." He swallowed, his green eyes fixed on the empty cell. "If... if they’re still taking people in some kind of ’order,’ or by some ’criteria’... next could be me. Or any of us who’ve been here a while."

The air seemed to freeze. Scarface’s gaze turned murderous and hopeless. Rat shrank into himself.

I looked at Scarface and Rat. "We need to figure out which guard might be greedy, or which inmate boss can get small things. It’s the fastest way to get a metal tool we can think of right now. The risk is huge. But it’s better than sitting here waiting for them to come take us."

Silence. Then Luka’s grim nod. Scarface spat on the ground, his expression savage. "I’m in. Not ending up a number on a missing list."

Rat looked at us all, finally giving a trembling nod.

The plan had changed. It had escalated.

This wasn’t just about thrills and freedom anymore.

It was about survival.

I felt my heart hammering against my ribs, fear and excitement blending into a scorching current. *This* felt right. Either we get out, or we go down trying. Better than fading away without a sound.

Hell yeah. This beat street racing by a million miles.