“You—”
The weight on his back lifted, and Jett shoved himself onto his feet.
“You’re dead, Jett!Dead!”
The distance between him and his target closed.
“I’m going to separate your fucking head from your body!”
The curtains in the spare room were open—allowing just enough light.
Jett fell to his knees next to the bed.
“Spill your fucking guts on the floor!”
Hands reaching under the bed, fingers curling around cold steel.
“Bathe in your goddamn blood!”
Jett swung the shotgun toward the door, finger gripping the trigger.
“I’ll—”
Mike went motionless, chest heaving as his eyes locked on the barrel of the gun. Even as he looked death in the eye, he still had the audacity to smile.
“A queer like you doesn’t know how to use a gun,” he spat, but he didn’t come any closer.
“Doesn’t take afucking genius.” Jett’s hand was steady. He smiled at Mike, hoping to convey just how confident he felt. “All I have to do is press the magic button.”
Mike said nothing. He didn’t move as he weighed his options, deciding on whether to attack or defend.
“Jett…don’t pull the trigger.”
The voice that spoke wasn’t Mike’s, it was—
“This ugly fucker is a waste of ammo. Let me take care of him.”
Harrison—it was Harrison in the hallway. Jett couldn’t see him because he was on the other side of the wall, but Mike was looking down the hall, slowly lifting his axe in warning.
Did Harrison have a weapon? Was he hurt?
“Youtake care ofme?” Mike threw back his head and laughed. “A crippled homo like you? You’re kidding me.”
He didn’t have a weapon. Mike’s posture was too confident, his tone too taunting.
“There’s only one homo in this place, and I’m looking right at him,” said Harrison, and Jett could picture that cocky grin of his, and knew what kind of reaction it would get. “I bet you can’t wait to be bitched in prison. Is that why you’re going through all this effort?”
Jett was two seconds away from pulling the trigger. What was Harrisondoing? What the hell was he doing?!
The axe jerked in Mike’s grip. “The fuck did you say?”
Harrison chuckled darkly, and the sound had Jett breaking into cold sweat.
“Did I fucking stutter, Mikey? You seem so desperate to go to prison, is it because then you can get dicked down without having to ask for it. It’s not gay if it’s in prison, right?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Mike bellowed, and then all his attention was on Harrison—not Jett. “I’ll fucking kill you—”
“I have a big cock too if you need it that bad,” Harrison shouted over Mike’s hollering. “All you have to do is ask, and I’ll give it to you, Mikey. I know you want it—socome get it.”
