You’re a shepherd, aren’t you, Max?
In charge of the flock. But you’re not the kind that protects ‘em. No, you’re the kind that leads his flock to slaughter.
And for too long, I’ve watched you parade around, cloaked in a guise of authority and righteousness, wielding your power like a butcher’s knife.
You turned these walls into a slaughterhouse, thinking you could butcher me like the rest of these sheep.
But I’m no sheep,
I’m the goddamned Coyote. The one that survived, the one that thrives in the darkest corners of this hell called Death Row.
Every night in this cell, I’ve felt the ghosts of those you’ve wronged.
Amataga Tuga.
Prophet.
How many others?
Their whispers became my howls. Their cries for justice, my battle cry.
You thought you could break me, bury me in the depths of your corruption and cruelty. But with every injustice, every baseball bat strike, every life taken, my resolve only hardened. Like steel forged in the fires of your hatred, I emerged unbreakable.
You see, Meadows, you and I, we’re locked in a dance as old as time itself.
Predator and prey, hunter and hunted.
But the lines have blurred, haven’t they? You thought you were the hunter, but all this time, you’ve been the prey. And now, the hunter becomes the hunted.
You sought to kill me, to silence the coyote’s howl. But you only made it louder, fiercer.
You may have the keys to these cells, but you’re just as imprisoned as the rest of us. Trapped by your own fear, your own weakness.
Your walls might hold me, but they can’t contain the storm that’s brewing inside. A storm of rage and retribution. And when it breaks, when it comes crashing down on you, you’ll realize the true power of this Coyote.
I’ve been biding my time, Meadows, sharpening my fangs on the bones of your tyranny.
And now, the time has come.
The time for reckoning, for justice to be served on this cursed Death Row.
The time for you to die.
For justice to be served.
Because, Max, you’re not facing just a man. You’re facing the goddamned Coyote, a wrathful spirit of vengeance, the embodiment of every soul you’ve wronged, every life you’ve taken.
And I will stop at nothing to see you fall, to bring justice to those who have suffered under your reign.
So let’s end this. Let’s see who the real predator is. Let’s see if the shepherd can fend off the Coyote.
And as you beg for mercy, you will finally understand the fury of the Coyote, the wrath of the wronged.
No mercy.
No surrender.
Me and you, Max. The Coyote and his insatiable hunger.
When all the dust is settled, when all the smoke is cleared, it’ll be your cries echoing through the flock. It will be your legacy that is torn to shreds. It will be your flock set free from your oppression.
For their shepherd has fallen, his reign of terror not ended with a whimper, but a fucking roar.
My roar.
It’ll be the last fucking thing you hear.