Her coiled frame hunched on the sofa next to Nate of all people, that fucker who’d been sniffing around her ever since he showed up, laughing too loud when she passed, cracking half-jokes with eyes that lingered.
Why was she even giving him the time of day? Especially after the fucking scolding she gave me for trying to protect her fromhis hungry eyes. Thinking better of it, I slid past them, heading towards a quieter corner where I could observe the other lads' interactions without being asked questions.
“I heard Malik got out today,” Nate said, loud enough for the room to hear. “Must be a relief not having to share a cell with the charity case anymore.”
Eyes shifted towards me as I stopped walking. I wasn’t after trouble, but didn’t mean I wouldn’t start the fire if he wanted to light the match.
My hands curled beneath the fabric of my pockets as shifting laughter cut in.
Another voice followed, low and mocking. “I heard Screech cries in his sleep.”
Laughter built around me as my feet remained planted to the spot; a blinding heat of rage started to take over.
It felt like being back at school all over again.
I glanced over my shoulder, catching Nate slip his arm around Misfit's shoulders, and I could see her skin ripple with disgust. Nate leaned in close, dragging her in with his taunting tone.
“Maybe they’ll let him bunk with you next,” he laughed. “You girls can share secrets.”
I turned, forcing myself into his space.
“Say that again,” I said, my tone firm. Nate grinned, teeth yellow and crooked.
“Which part?”
My fist hit him before he even had a second to process my movements.
Bone to flesh. A satisfying thud as he stumbled back into the plastic table, scattering cards across the floor. The second guy moved, but I was already shoving forward, knuckles flying, rage uncoiling fast and hot from somewhere deep and long ignored.
I don’t know how many punches landed before the guards tore us apart, two of them dragging me back, arms locked around mine like vices.
“Get him out!” A guard barked. I struggled against them, spitting blood on the floor as I locked rage-fuelled eyes with Nate, who was wiping his mouth and still trying to look cocky through the bruise forming under his eye.
As they shoved me toward the door, I caught a glimpse of Misfit watching, a magazine limp in her lap. No expression on her face. Just those dark eyes, flicking between us. The guard's thick fingers were digging into the meat of my shoulders as my boots scraped along the linoleum. I was still thrashing, not because I thought I could break free, but because I hadn’t figured out how to shut the fire off.
“Get the fuck off me!” I barked, twisting against their grip. My voice echoed down the corridor, raw and guttural.
“Calm down, McCabe,” one of them growled. “You brought this on yourself.”
I spat back, “Fuck you, the cunt deserved it.” My boots slammed into the wall as I kicked out. One of the guards shoved me harder into the opposite side, ribs bouncing off the concrete. I barely felt it. Couldn’t feel anything but that white-hot rage still licking at the back of my skull.
Every step was a blur of rage and memory.
The blood on Nate’s face.
The smirk that didn’t go away.
Misfit’s expressionless stare from across the room.
She saw everything and still stayed quiet.
I didn’t know what I was expecting, a bit more of a bite back from her, but she did nothing.
I bit the inside of my cheek till it bled, stopping myself from reeling off all the things I now wanted to do to that fucker the moment I got a chance.
Lights flickered overhead as the noise grew quieter the further we went.
“You done fighting?” the other guard said, leaning into my ear. I didn’t answer. I wasn’t done; I was calculating my next move against Nate. They finally reached the Solitary wing. Big grey steel doors lined either side of the walls. One guard fumbled with the keys, the other kept me pinned against the wall, assuming I would make a run for it. As the lock clicked, I stared at the narrow cell ahead.
