Mia

The heavy iron prison gates slammed shut behind me, severing years of concrete isolation. Waiting beneath the guard towers sat her luxury coupe, its crimson leather interior glowing through tinted glass like embers. Mia leaned lazily over the console, her blonde hair sweeping over her shoulders as sharp eyes tracked my every step to the passenger door. She had been unshakeably loyal through every year of my sentence, keeping my name clean on the street and ensuring money was stacked on my books every single week without fail. But sliding into the plush seat meant confronting a shifted reality. Between us rested a heavy ledger—a paper trail of booming profits, laundered cash, and expanded territories forged entirely in my absence. She handled the wheel with effortless authority, a subtle smirk flickering in the mirror with electric defiance. Mia had held down my empire just like she promised, but as the prison faded from the rearview mirror, the unspoken tension settled between us: she had gotten comfortable running the show, and she wasn't about to hand back the reins without a fight.