***** Blaze's Point of View *****
After having all of his stuff taken away and being forced to put on an orange tracksuit, Blaze spent an hour in a cold, damp holding cell with a couple guys that looked like they were strung out on drugs.
He heard a door open down the hall and footsteps, before the cell was unlocked and the door slid open.
"Blaze McDaniels," the guard said in a deep, gruff voice.
He stood to his feet and said, "Yeah, that's me."
"Come with me," he said firmly, not elaborating about where he was taking him.
After walking down a few long hallways he was shoved into an interrogation room with two men wearing black and white suits, sitting at a table.
One of the men came over and took his cuffs off and asked, "You want a smoke?" holding out a cigarette pack.
"Sure, if you're offering," he said, sliding one out of the pack and putting it between his lips as the officer flicked the lighter so he could light it.
Blaze inhaled deeply, feeling the burn down his throat before exhaling a line of smoke up into the air.
"Thanks, I needed that."
The officer sat down again and said, "It's not looking too good for you here Blaze. These are some serious charges being brought against you; gun trafficking, selling guns without a federal license, possession of an illegal firearm with intent to sell, selling stolen firearms. And you're not a minor anymore now that you're eighteen, so you're looking at a possibility of thirty to fifty years in prison from all of this. Do you understand that?"
Blaze took another long hit from the cigarette, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. He was starting to get a really bad tension headache.
He finally dropped his hands and looked at the officer. "Yeah, I understand all that, but it's so fucked up. I didn't even want to do this run. I was trying to clean up my act and get my shit together so I could get custody of my little brother. I wanted to be done with all of it, but that asshole threatened to go after me and my family and friends if I didn't do this one last run for him."
Blaze had never felt so frustrated. For the first time in his life he was really trying to do better and be a better person and then some bullshit like this happens. It was all Jace's fault.
"Did you even arrest Jace?" he asked.
"No," the detective said, shaking his head. "He wasn't part of the sting operation. He wasn't there."
"So you're telling me that prick is gonna walk free when he was the mastermind behind this whole operation? Then this whole sting operation of yours was completely pointless. As long as he's out on the streets, none of this shit is gonna stop. He's behind all of it and he'll just recruit new people to take the places of the ones you arrested."
The officer looked at him and asked, "What do you mean he's behind all of it? All of what?"
"He's the one that recruited me when I was fifteen so he could have someone on the inside at the high school to sell prescription pain pills, pot and vapes for him. He's the one that organized all of the gun runs I did and set up all of the deals with the arms and ammunition buyers. Every single guy you arrested today was small time.We just did the leg work, but Jace is the big time. He's the one pulling all the strings. If you really want to stop the crime in this town, you need to take him down."
The detective sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, studying Blaze.
"So do you have any ideas about how we could do that?"
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