Out in the deep woods, hidden from prying eyes, stood a fortress of steel and stone—the state maximum-security prison. Its imposing walls, topped with coils of razor-sharp barbed wire, loomed against the night sky. Spotlights swept the perimeter in slow, methodical arcs, illuminating the dense fog that clung to the air like a shroud. The guards inside, hardened by years of routine, moved with practiced efficiency, their boots echoing off the cold concrete.

But this night was different.

The fog rolled in thicker than usual, muffling sounds and reducing visibility to almost nothing. Even the powerful spotlights struggled to penetrate the dense, ghostly haze. For most, it was just another quiet night in the forested wilderness. For three men inside those walls, it was an opportunity.

On the roof of the prison, three figures moved like shadows, their orange jumpsuits dulled to muted silhouettes in the dim light. The men — Louis, James, and Henry.

"Stick to the plan," Louis whispered, his voice sharp but controlled.

James and Henry nodded, their eyes darting to the sweeping beams of the spotlights below. Timing was everything. The guards had just completed their hourly headcount and wouldn't check again for at least another fifty minutes. The trio crept along the rooftop, their breaths visible in the chilly air.

They reached the edge of the building, where they'd spent weeks weakening a section of the fence with a smuggled tool. The fog was their ally tonight, veiling their movements from watchful eyes. Below them, the ground was still and silent, save for the distant hum of the generator.

"Ready?" Louis asked, his tone clipped.

"Born ready," James muttered, pulling a makeshift rope from under his jumpsuit.

The men descended carefully, the rope straining under their weight but holding. Their boots hit the ground with a muted thud. Crouching low, they darted toward the inner perimeter, where the barbed wire fence stood between them and freedom.

Henry threw a bundle of jumpsuits over the top of the fence to cover the razor wire. One by one, they climbed, their muscles straining with the effort. James slipped, nearly slicing his hand open, but Louis grabbed his arm just in time.

"Focus," Louis growled. "We didn't come this far to mess up now."

Once over the fence, they hit the ground running. The fog cloaked their movements, and the guards, their vision impaired by the mist, remained blissfully unaware.

A dark sedan idled just beyond the treeline, its engine humming softly. Sam, Louis's younger brother, waited behind the wheel, his fingers drumming anxiously on the steering wheel. When he saw the figures emerge from the fog, he jumped out to open the trunk.

"Come on," Sam hissed. "We don't have all night."

The three men piled into the car, slamming the doors behind them. Louis gave Sam a firm pat on the shoulder. "Good work, kid."

Sam nodded, his face pale in the dim light. "Where to now?"

Louis leaned back, a sinister smile spreading across his face. "We've got some unfinished business."

The car roared to life, its tires kicking up gravel as it sped down the back road. Behind them, the prison lights flickered through the fog, growing fainter with every passing second. They didn't look back.