A sharp, metallic clang echoed through the small, damp cell. Ryder stirred awake, his head pounding and body aching as if he'd been hit by a truck. His mind felt foggy, disoriented, but one thing was immediately clear—this wasn't his bed, nor was this his life.

Groaning, he pushed himself off the floor, his limbs stiff and uncooperative. His breath hitched as he took in his surroundings. Dim light flickered from a bulb overhead, casting eerie shadows along the grimy concrete walls. The air smelled of damp mildew and something far worse—a mix of sweat, blood, and hopelessness.

He blinked rapidly, trying to piece together what had happened. The last thing he remembered was sitting on his couch, half-watching TV while scrolling through his phone. There had been nothing unusual, no warning signs. But now—now he was here. Wherever here was.

His muscles ached as he moved, and a sense of unease crept over him. He looked down at his hands—his new hands. They were large, scarred, and covered in dark tattoos snaking up his forearms. These weren't his hands. This isn't me.

He stumbled to his feet, panic setting in as he clutched at his clothes. They were rough, worn, a far cry from anything he'd ever owned. His reflection caught in a cracked shard of a mirror on the wall. He froze. The face staring back at him was foreign—sharper, rougher, and lined with a stubble that wasn't his. His dark hair was cropped short, and the tattoos… God, the tattoos ran up his neck like vines, twisting and curling.

Ryder's chest tightened as reality crashed down on him. This wasn't just a bad dream—he had transmigrated into someone else's body. And judging by the look of this place, that someone was a thug.

Before he could process any further, the heavy cell door screeched open, making him jump. Three officers stormed in, each wearing the same look of barely contained fury. The lead officer, a tall, broad man with a stern face, was the first to speak. His name tag read Sergeant Daniels, but the icy venom in his eyes said more than his rank ever could.

"Well, well, look who's finally awake," Daniels growled, stepping forward and glaring at Ryder. "You think your boss can mess with the wrong family and get away with it?"

Ryder blinked, his brain scrambling to keep up. "What…?" His voice came out rougher than usual—just like everything else about him felt foreign.

"Playing dumb?" Daniels sneered, stepping closer until he was inches from Ryder's face. "You and your gang of thugs have finally bitten off more than you can chew. Your boss thought he could harass the daughter of the Chen family, and now every last one of you is going to pay the price."

Before Ryder could reply, Daniels' fist shot forward, slamming into his stomach. Ryder doubled over in agony, the wind knocked out of him. Pain radiated through his ribs, and he gasped for air.

The two other officers wasted no time, grabbing Ryder by the arms and forcing him against the wall. He tried to struggle, but his body was weak, sluggish from the shock of the beating and the overwhelming confusion of what was happening.

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"You messed with the wrong girl," one of the other officers snarled, his grip tightening painfully around Ryder's arm. "You and your whole gang should've known better than to touch the Chen."

"Who… who are the Chen?" Alex managed to wheeze out, his vision still blurry from the pain.

Daniels laughed, but there was no humor in it. Only malice. "The Chen own this city. Their money, their power—it runs through every street, every alley. And you thugs thought you could lay a hand on their daughter? She's untouchable. And now you're about to find out what happens when you cross them."

Another punch landed, this time in his ribs. Ryder cried out, his knees buckling as he sank to the floor. He clutched his side, feeling the dull ache of what might have been a cracked rib. His mind was reeling. He had no idea who the Chen were or why these officers were acting like he was some criminal. But it was starting to make sense. He wasn't just any thug. He was part of a gang. And from the sounds of it, that gang had made the biggest mistake possible.

Daniels crouched down in front of him, grabbing his chin roughly and forcing Alex to meet his gaze. "Your boss made a big mistake harassing that girl. And now, he's dead. Tortured to death, right in this very station. The Chen made sure of it. You should've seen the way he screamed."

Ryder's blood ran cold. Dead?

"The Chen pulled strings, and now, we're cleaning up the rest of you. Your whole gang—beaten, broken, and thrown in a ditch where you belong," Daniels said, his voice low and deadly. "And we'll keep going until there's nothing left of you."

Ryder's heart raced in his chest. This is real. All of it.

Before he could react, Daniels rose to his feet and delivered a swift kick to Ryder's side, sending him sprawling across the dirty cell floor. His body screamed in protest, and his vision blurred from the pain, but there was no escaping it.

"Consider yourself lucky," Daniels said, his voice cold. "You'll be alive long enough to wish you were dead."

The officers left him there, broken and bloodied on the floor, the sound of the cell door slamming shut ringing in his ears. Ryder lay still for a moment, the agony coursing through him almost unbearable. But worse than the physical pain was the weight of the truth. He wasn't just trapped in someone else's body—he was trapped in someone else's nightmare.

Who was this guy?

As he lay there, the memories began to seep in. Fragments of the thug's life started to surface, disjointed but unmistakable. His name was Ryder, a low-level enforcer for a gang that ran small-time scams and extortion in the city. Ryder wasn't anyone special, but his loyalty to the gang had earned him a spot close to the boss. And now, that boss was dead—tortured to death because he'd crossed the wrong people.

The Chen family. They were more than just a wealthy, powerful family. They owned the police, the city, the politicians. Untouchable was an understatement. And Marcus's boss—foolishly arrogant—had made the grave mistake of harassing the Chen's daughter. No one could have anticipated the brutal consequences.

Ryder groaned, forcing himself to sit up despite the burning pain in his ribs. His breaths came shallow and uneven, but his mind was racing. He had no idea how he had ended up in this situation, but he knew one thing for sure: Ryder's life was in serious danger. And now, it was his life on the line.

He could feel the walls closing in around him. The Chen wouldn't stop until every last member of the gang was eliminated. He was a loose end, just waiting to be tied up.

Panic clawed at him as the full weight of his predicament hit him. He wasn't just stuck in the body of a thug—he was a marked man. The police weren't just beating him for sport. They were delivering the Chen' message.

He staggered to his feet, wincing as the movement sent fresh waves of pain through his side. His mind raced with thoughts of escape, but the reality of his situation was clear. The cell was locked, the station filled with corrupt officers who wouldn't hesitate to finish what they'd started. There was no way out.

For now, he had no choice but to survive. To endure this suffering.