Dark Destiny by Avelyn Paige

StoneFace

This isn’tmy first time here in lockup, but it is my first time on this unit. As the officers showed me to my new digs for the next little while, my gaze swept over every visible inch, looking for familiar faces, and most importantly, where the guard center and cameras were located.

“Day room use is open for another twenty minutes,” the guard informs me before walking away.

I place my raggedy ass prison bedding on the empty mattress and survey the room. The other bed is neatly made, so I know I have a cellmate, but there are no personal possessions besides toiletries and a small book that looks as if it’s meant for a child.

Voices and laughter buzz from the day room below, bouncing off the brick walls. I step out of my cell and look down over the balcony and onto the crowd of men below. Orange seems to be the color here for those of us who don’t exactly live a law-abiding lifestyle.

Making my way down the stairs, my eyes travel over every single face, but I don’t stare too long. I know better than to look one of these motherfuckers in the eye. What I need to be is observant without being obvious.

My plan to get myself locked up wasn’t really a plan, so much as done on a whim. I’d needed to do something—anything—to get myself into Travis County State Jail because he was here. And even more unbelievable than that, he was alive.

Both of those facts needed to change—are going to change—very, very soon.

That is, if I can find the son of a bitch.

The day room is nothing special. A dozen or so octagon tables with attached benches bolted into the cement floor. A television on mute with closed captioning darting along the bottom of the screen, hanging inside a metal cage in the corner of the room, with six telephones placed in the opposite corner. And front and center is the rounded counter for the guards to observe us all.

The volume in the room has gone down significantly since I walked in, the inmates’ eyes following me as I make my way toward an empty table where I can sit with my back facing the wall. No way in hell is anyone taking me by surprise. I may be the focus of everyone’s attention, but none of them are of any concern to me, because none of them are Chad Elscher.

The man who ignites a steady burn in my gut. A fire that never stops raging, and never goes away.

He’s the man I’m going to kill.

Keeping my eyes toward the silent television, I lose myself in the memory of the newscast I’d seen him on eighteen years ago, of his smug face and emotionless, dead eyes. I haven’t seen him since then, but I’ll never forget that face, or what he did to get on the news in the first place.

An orange jumpsuit goes soaring by me and crashes into the wall. My eyes snap into focus as six men close in, their faces twisted and cruel as they look past me.

“Get up, mush mouth,” one of them jeers. “Get up and fight.”

Frowning, I stand and move aside, trying to get a better handle on the situation. The six men move together in a V formation, with the one who had spoken leading the pack.

The man who had hit the wall is a mountain of a man. He’s easily six and a half feet tall, and can’t be much older than nineteen years old. His muscles, though not defined, are most definitely pronounced, as is his lower lip. He cowers on the floor, his dark-skinned arm wrapped around himself as he stares up at the mob hovering in front of him.

“N-n-n-no,” he stutters out. “I w-w-w—”

“W-w-w-w,” the man mocks, elbowing the inmate to his right, chuckling. “Learn to fucking talk, dickweed. Now give it to him.”

When I finally see the candy bar clutched tightly in the large man’s hand, things fall into place.

The man on the floor glances down at his chocolate bar, his lip quivering as he finally holds it out.

They all laugh before the leader of the group steps forward to take the candy from his hand. That’s when I decide I can’t take anymore.

Stepping forward, I place myself between the two and pin the aggressor with a menacing stare. The name on his uniform says Howell, and from the looks of things, Howell doesn’t like me getting involved.

Too damn bad for Howell.

The man is barely six feet tall. I know this because I’m nearly seven feet tall. This asshole would get lost in my shadow.

“If you’re wanting candy, I think it’s time you put your own order in for commissary.”

“Fuck you, man,” he snarls, taking a step closer. “You might be new here, but you’ll learn damn fast that I rule this fucking unit, and I will take you down.”

Cocking my brow, I tilt my head to the side. “All by yourself? Or do you need your goons here to help you?”

His fist flies out, but I know guys like him. They’re hotheads. They’re led by emotion instead of common sense. That means they make mistakes, and Howell has made a big one, because he doesn’t know that I’m an expert in mixed martial arts. Though he figures it out pretty quick when I grab his wrist mid-swing and use his own momentum to bring him closer, spin him around, and place him on his knees in front of me with his hand up between his shoulder blades.

I ignore his cries of pain as I glare at the others. They look uncertain, debating on if they should be helping or running for their lives. I hold up my free hand and smirk. “Anyone else?”

The men immediately scatter.

Turning, I drag Howell along and face the man on the floor. “What’s your name?”

“B-B-B-Buddy,” he replies, sitting up a little straighter, his eyes now void of fear.

I nod. “Nice to meet ya, Buddy. You can call me StoneFace, and this here is…” I give Howell a shake, causing him to cry out again. “This is Howell. Now, I know you know Howell already, but what you don’t know is that Howell here is gonna be a whole new man. Aren’t you, Howell?”

“Fuck you,” Howell spits.

I yank his wrist farther up his back. If I pull up much more, his shoulder will pop right out of its socket. That would suck for him, but I have to admit, I’ve done it before, and the noise it makes when it pops is fucking cool.

“Aren’t you, Howell?” I ask again. “You’re gonna stop being a stupid asshole, aren’t you? And you’re going to stop harassing Buddy and the rest of the men on this unit. Right?”

I tug a little on his wrist.

“Right!” Howell screams.

I see a guard approaching from the corner of my eye, so I speed this up a bit. “Apologize to Buddy.”

“I’m sorry,” he snarls.

“Did that sound like he’s sorry to you?” I ask Buddy.

Buddy’s eyes are wide as he watches the scene unfold, but he doesn’t speak. Instead, he shakes his head.

“Me neither. Why don’t you try that again, Howell?”

The guard has stopped moving. He’s not intervening.

“I’m sorry,” Howell cries. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t go near you again!”

I look back at Buddy. “Does that work for you?”

He nods, his eyes still wide.

Pulling Howell closer to me, I whisper into his ear, “You, or any of your pals go near Buddy again, I will make sure the only thing left of you for the guards to find will be your nasty ass teeth. Comprende?”

Howell gulps, but nods.

Shoving him away, I watch him scurry off in shame through the crowd of snickering men and up the stairs to his cell, which is the one right next to mine. Awesome.

Turning, I extend a hand out to Buddy. “You good, man?”

Buddy takes it and says as I help him to his feet, “You made Howell mad.”

“Howell’s a pussy,” I retort. “He bugs you again, you let me know.”

Buddy grins. “Thank you.”

I turn then and scan the room. All eyes are on me, including the two guards who had watched the whole thing go down and not bothered to step in. “That goes for every fucking one of you,” I call out. “Buddy is off-limits. You fuck with him, I fuck with you.”

Nobody says a word, but I know I just made myself a few enemies. I also drew the attention to myself I was hoping to avoid, all within five minutes of being here. That has to be some kind of record.

I glance at the guards again, and the one closest to me nods and walks away. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’d just given me a stamp of approval. Interesting.