CHAPTER 1: THE WEST WING
The first thing Elara noticed about Blackwood wasn’t the barbed wire or the gun towers.
It was the silence.
For a women’s correctional facility housing over three hundred inmates, the quiet was unnatural — disciplined. It was as if the air itself feared to move.
“Rule number one at Blackwood,” Officer Harrow said as he handed her the security badge. “Don’t ask about the West Wing. Those women belong to the Warden.”
He said it with a smirk — half warning, half invitation to stay blind.
Elara nodded, though her pulse thudded. She had transferred here to make a difference — to work in “the most secure women’s facility in the state.”
She hadn’t expected to find secrecy this thick.
The West Wing was isolated from the rest of the compound, its steel door requiring two security codes and a retina scan. Inside, only four cells were occupied. Four women, all in solitary confinement.
Malia — convicted for grand fraud.
Skye — drug trafficking.
Kaelen — financial crimes.
Neva — involuntary manslaughter.
Different backgrounds, different stories… yet all four of them looked the same in one unsettling way.
Pregnant.
Six to seven months in.
No male inmates. No conjugal visits.
Medical reports stamped: “Special Condition. Confidential.”
When Elara’s rounds brought her near Malia’s cell, the woman met her gaze.
There was no rebellion in her eyes — just a quiet, desperate plea.
Help me.
Elara walked away, but that look followed her all the way back to her quarters.
CHAPTER 2: THE MEDICAL ROOM
Doctor Valerie Reed was a woman of cold perfection — pristine white coat, steel-gray hair, and the kind of smile that never touched her eyes.
“You’re curious, Officer Hale,” Reed said during an inspection. “Curiosity can be dangerous here.”
Elara smiled politely. “Only curious about keeping my inmates healthy, ma’am.”
That night, she stayed late to monitor the surveillance feed.
Her hands trembled slightly as she rewound the footage of the last two weeks.
She froze.
At 2:17 a.m., every Thursday, the same pattern repeated: two guards escorting one inmate — Skye, Malia, Kaelen, or Neva — into the medical bay. No records in the logs.
Each time, Dr. Reed administered an injection. Then the feed cut out for 43 minutes.
When the screen came back, the inmate was unconscious.
A cold metallic tray gleamed in the corner.
Elara didn’t need to be a doctor to recognize the instruments used for artificial insemination.
Her stomach turned.
Blackwood wasn’t just a prison.
It was a breeding farm.
A few days later, in a forgotten corner of the records room, Elara found an old computer left unlocked. Inside — encrypted emails. She decrypted one partially:
“Transfer approved. Payment to Warden Henderson confirmed.
The Phoenix Adoption Agency appreciates your discretion.
Each ‘product’ must be delivered healthy. No defects tolerated.”
She read the line three times, unable to breathe.
The “products”… were the unborn babies.
She arranged a meeting with Malia during laundry duty — a risky move.
The hum of the machines masked their whispers.
Malia’s eyes darted around. “They drug us. We wake up sore, sick. They call it ‘prenatal care.’ But we never agreed. We didn’t even know.”
Elara whispered, “Who’s the father?”
Malia gave a bitter laugh. “Doesn’t matter. We’re just incubators. But those babies — they’re born free. And sold before they even take their first breath.”
Her voice broke. “They don’t belong to us. But we’ll die before giving them up.”
CHAPTER 3: THE ALLIANCE
Elara couldn’t go to the police — the Warden had connections everywhere.
The only people she could trust were the ones already trapped.
During a rare group medical check, she gathered the four women.
Skye crossed her arms. “Why should we believe you? Maybe you’re bait.”
Kaelen shook her head, trembling. “If we just stay quiet, maybe we’ll live long enough to see our children.”
Elara laid the evidence before them — the payment trails, the adoption contracts, the sterilization requests for “noncompliant mothers.”
And then she said quietly, “I can’t promise you freedom. But I can promise your children won’t be sold.”
Silence.
Then Malia stepped forward. “You help us protect them, we’ll help you burn this place down.”
They devised a plan — chaos during the delivery period.
Malia would hack the door logs. Skye would manipulate the nurses.
Elara would trigger a false alarm to divert the guards.
They would reach the Archive Room — the digital heart of Blackwood — and extract the files.
CHAPTER 4: THE HUNT IN THE DARK
Two weeks later.
At 3:04 a.m., alarms blared through the North Wing — fire alert.
Every guard rushed to the scene.
In the shadows of the West Wing, four pregnant women and one bleeding, terrified officer crept through hallways lined with security lights.
Neva — strong and silent — smashed a camera with a mop handle.
Skye cursed softly as her contractions began early.
Kaelen hesitated at every corner, tears glistening. “We shouldn’t—”
Malia hissed, “You want to give birth to a ghost? Move!”
They reached the Archive Room, but Elara’s access card failed.
She forced the door with a fire axe, cutting her arm open.
Blood smeared the metal, leaving crimson fingerprints behind.
Inside, Malia connected a stolen USB drive. Screens flickered.
Files transferred — thousands of them. Each named with chilling precision:
Mother_Ref.No_421
Newborn_Specifications.pdf
Transaction_Complete.
Then — footsteps.
“Going somewhere?”
Warden Henderson’s voice sliced through the air. Behind him, Dr. Reed stood with a tranquilizer gun.
“You ruined a multi-million-dollar operation,” Henderson snarled. “Do you know how many powerful people are involved? You think anyone will believe a bunch of convicts?”
Malia lifted her chin. “We don’t need belief. We just need proof.”
Elara pressed a trembling hand to her earpiece. “Uploading… now.”
CHAPTER 5: THE TRAP
Reed lunged forward with the syringe.
Elara shoved Malia aside — the needle plunged into her shoulder instead.
Pain flared like fire, but she grabbed the USB and hurled it through the small ventilation window toward the outer yard — where, if she calculated correctly, it would land in the trash zone marked for collection at dawn.
Reed screamed. “Stop her!”
Henderson drew his gun.
Skye slammed a metal tray into his wrist — the shot went wide, echoing down the corridor.
Kaelen screamed as Neva suddenly collapsed — her water broke. One by one, contractions seized all four women.
Reed panicked. “They’re not ready! We can’t—”
The cries of labor drowned out the alarms.
CHAPTER 6: REVELATION
At dawn, outside Blackwood’s reinforced gates, a sanitation truck halted.
A police officer — Detective Rowan, Elara’s old partner — opened a trash bin marked for biohazard waste.
Inside, wrapped in a bloodied cloth, was a flash drive.
He plugged it into his phone.
Within seconds, he was calling backup.
Inside, chaos ruled. Four women in labor, guards shouting, medical staff scrambling.
Elara, barely conscious, clutched Neva’s hand.
“You hold on,” she whispered. “They’re coming.”
Moments later, sirens blared again — not prison alarms this time, but police.
Dozens of patrol cars flooded the yard. Cameras. Reporters.
The end of Blackwood’s silence.
Henderson was dragged out of his office, cursing. Reed was found still inside the medical bay, trying to destroy evidence.
The babies — all four — were born within the same hour, alive and crying.
Elara stood by their beds in the infirmary, her arm in a sling.
Malia approached, holding her newborn.
“They say we’ll still serve our sentences,” she said softly.
Elara nodded. “But you’ll keep your children. You’ll testify. You’ll end this network.”
Malia looked down at her baby — tiny, breathing, free.
Her voice was steady. “They took everything from us, except this.”
Elara smiled faintly. “Sometimes, that’s all the reason you need to fight.”
The baby stirred, small fingers curling around Malia’s.
Outside, dawn broke over Blackwood for the first time — not silent, but full of cries, sirens, and the sound of truth tearing through steel.
