Chapter 64 — The Coffin Opens
Prince of Hell.
They called it a prison.
That was cute.
Because by morning, Bastille 2 felt freer than most governments.
No cells. No guards. No rules.
Just a box of meat, waiting to rot.
Concrete floors. Flickering lights. Laughter that didn’t belong to anyone sane.
They played cards. Swapped stories. Ate.
Some even smiled. Like they forgot where they were.
By 10:00 AM, someone got punched.
By 10:02, someone was crying.
By 10:15, Grim had already stopped his fourth assault.
He didn’t talk. Didn’t ask.
He just moved.
One had a pipe—Grim cracked it on his spine.
Another threw a punch—Grim shoved his jaw into a wall.
Nobody thanked him.
By noon, they stopped pretending.
Stabbing in the food line.
Drowning in the showers.
Someone screamed “help”—twenty walked by.
Two laughed.
Tawin Anurak was done.
Twelve fights deep.
Ribs broken. Limbs barely working.
He didn’t trust Grim. Didn’t trust anyone.
This wasn’t prison.
Prison had rules.
This was rot.
By 5PM, nobody flinched at blood.
The rape was casual. Halls. Corners. Bathrooms.
The guards didn’t stop it.
They joined.
Tawin saw it happen. Girl couldn’t’ve been older than eighteen. No tats. No record. Just a mistake.
Three men.
One held her down.
One watched.
One unbuckled his belt.
Then one of them died.
No warning.
Spine shattered backwards.
Neck snapped quiet.
Grim was behind him.
Barefoot. Shirtless.
Eyes red. Hands wet.
Still bleeding from somewhere in his side—didn’t care.
The girl looked up—terrified.
Bang.
Grim staggered.
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A smoking hole in his leg.
Tawin stood ten feet away. Gun up. Breathing like he was choking on rage.
“Traitor,” he spat.
Grim didn’t even blink.
Just limped forward.
Grabbed the second man by the face—
Crushed his skull into the wall.
The third tried to run.
Grim snapped his knee backwards—
Then slammed him into the floor until he stopped having teeth.
The girl screamed.
Got up.
Grabbed glass.
Stabbed the last one.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Laughing. Crying. Shaking.
She wasn’t stopping.
Grim turned—
Punched her out cold.
Silence.
Then—clapping.
Mika stepped in.
Looked at the carnage like it was a spilled drink.
Knelt. Two fingers to the girl’s neck.
“Alive,” he said. “Contract’s intact.”
Tawin didn’t lower the gun.
Didn’t blink.
“Where are we?” he whispered.
Mika smiled. Didn’t reach his eyes.
“This isn’t a prison.”
He sat on a crate. Lit a cigarette.
“This is a coffin.”
Grim sat too.
Didn’t flinch as he dug the bullet out of his leg barehanded.
Tawin stepped forward.
“…Let me.”
Grim let him.
Silence.
Mika’s smoke curled through the air like it was trying to leave.
“I was in Bangkok,” Tawin muttered. “Interview day. Got home. They were gone.”
No one asked who.
No one needed to.
Outside dimmed.
Inside rotted.
Grim leaned back. Breathing slow. Barely moving.
And then—
He spoke.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just… there.
Like the story had been choking him.
A mountain. Two trucks.
Time broke.
Something stepped through.
Then silence.
Then Ash.
Then blood.
A job. A heist. A million in the bag and three collapsed lungs.
Then war.
A trap.
A massacre.
And the price.
He didn’t cry.
Didn’t explain.
Just dropped the pieces like they were glass he’d been holding too long.
It was quiet after.
“I’m not regretting it,” Grim said. “I’m remembering.”
Mika stopped pacing.
“You think this is hell?”
Nothing.
“This isn’t hell,” he muttered. “Hell’s got paperwork.”
“You think the system works?” Tawin said.
“No,” Mika replied. “But it’s efficient.”
He nodded toward the hallway.
“This place? This game? It’s a sieve. Throw in the rats. Let ’em chew.
Whatever’s left—gets promoted.”
Grim looked at him.
“That what we are?”
Mika didn’t blink.
“I never said you were through.”
Tawin exhaled.
“Used to be a cop.”
Grim raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t start,” Tawin snapped. “It’s relevant.”
Partner got gutted by a guy they let go.
Protocol, they said.
He quit.
“Now look at you,” Grim muttered. “Bullet surgeon.”
“Now look at you,” Tawin shot back. “Walking war crime.”
Didn’t smile.
But almost.
Mika leaned on the wall. Arms folded.
Then—
“I was framed,” Grim said.
Mika didn’t flinch.
“I know.”
“I did kill someone.”
“Not how they said. Not why.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mika said.
“They loaded the gun. Pulled the trigger. Called you the bullet.”
Tawin stared at the floor.
“You’re not a killer, Grim.”
“Not at your core.”
“You sure?” Grim asked.
“Feels like it’s the only thing I’m good at.”
Mika met his eyes.
“Then be good at it.”
“But not for them.”
A pause.
“You think I should escape.”
“You knew that,” Mika muttered. “You knew it the second they locked you up. This isn’t punishment. It’s disposal.”
Tawin nodded.
“Go somewhere nobody knows your name. Start from zero. Burn the map.”
Grim looked at his leg. Still bleeding. But slower now.
Closing.
“I’ll find who set this up.”
Mika smiled. Half. Tired. Crooked.
“There it is. Your protagonist moment.”
“Shut up,” Grim muttered.
“You gonna sleep?” Tawin asked.
“I earned it.”
Grim’s eyes were already shutting.
“Task Two’s tomorrow. Gotta be alive for it.”
“Technically,” Mika said.
Lights buzzed.
Three monsters in a box meant to kill hope.
Still breathing.
End of Chapter.
