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But the suicidal sentinel challenges Dessin with a single look, smug and taunting.
“Don’t take the bait,” I whisper.
He lifts an eyebrow, exhales with a slight grumble, and turns to walk. The guard follows us, occasionally jabbing Dessin in the back with a baton. Quick, cruel pokes that are followed by his sneering chuckles. I grit my own teeth before I make the decision to lash out for him, twisting my body to attack with—
Dessin tugs me by the arm, lowering his lips to my ear. “Don’t take the bait.”
I blow out a breath, simmering and quivering on the inside.
We’ll get through this.
We’ll get through this.
We’ll get through this.
~
The showers are filled with screams, loud thuds, and the sounds of someone choking.
Dessin and I push our way through the crowd of naked prisoners. Water and soap sloshes at my ankles, mixed with a thin stream of blood. And then we hear Ruth scream.
“Move!” Dessin begins bulldozing through anyone who stands in our way. I follow his every step, my heart knocking painfully in my chest, my breath running ragged through my lungs.
Please, not Ruth.
If anything happens to that sweet girl, I’ll never forgive myself. These screams will haunt me until my last breath. Tears spring from my eyes. My fists clench in a fierce preparation to fight. To kill.
We make it to the center of the showers, where the broken pipe is hosing down the crowd watching the incident.
Ruth stands unharmed next to Niles and Marilynn, covering her breasts and pelvic area. Her face is tomato red, tears glisten over her bronze eyes.
“Stop it, Warrose!” she screams again.
I follow her eyes to a very naked Warrose. His tattooed back is to us, and he’s holding a short man by the throat, lifting him in the air with one arm as if he doesn’t weigh more than a sack of feathers.
The naked man is pale, yet every inch of skin is an embarrassing shade of pink like he’s been slapped all over. Veins protrude into his forehead, and his blond beard dangles over Warrose’s wrist.
Ah, he’s the man we encountered yesterday.
“I don’t care that you were jerking yourself to the sight of her. All I’m saying is that your tiny excuse for a penis offends me. For no reason in particular,” Warrose says casually.
I look down at the half-erect dick on the blond-bearded man. It loses its firmness with each second that Warrose chokes the man out.
Dessin cracks up, dropping his fighting stance and laughing as he realizes the reason behind this outburst. The sound causes me to flinch, then smack Dessin on the arm.
“Tell him to stop!” Ruth begs us.
“No, Warrose.” Pause. “Stop that.” Pause. “Put the nice man down,” Dessin says in a monotone, half-assed attempt. He shrugs as if to say I tried.
I bite back a smile. “Back off, Warrose.”
With one last look at the petite, shivering man, he tosses him to the floor with a splashing wet thud.
“Little guy was masturbating at the sight of Ruth.” Niles pops up behind me with a smile. “I know, that’s obviously not funny. Duh. But I’m not going to lie, when Ruthie had to squint to see the man’s little erection, it was hard not to laugh.”
“You’re such a psychopath!” Ruth stomps her foot in a puddle, doing her best to cover her naked body. “We’re supposed to be laying low!”
Warrose takes one big step toward her, small drops of water splashing off his broad chest down to her scowling face. I never realized how much bigger than her he is. At least a foot and a few inches taller. Her narrow, bony shoulder span is half the width of his. His presence nearly swallowing her whole.
