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I won’t go to him.
He has to come to me.
And he will.
He stalks toward me until he stands just inches away, his breath enough to make an alley cat gag. “We’ve got unfinished business, Savage.”
I say nothing.
“You’re going to just stand there?” he says. “Go ahead. Take your best shot, Savage.”
But I won’t strike first, and Zion knows it.
"Let’s settle this right here, right now," he challenges, cracking his knuckles.
I can’t help a chuckle. These criminals are all the same. They think cracking their knuckles is some kind of power play.
Again, I say nothing.
He lunges forward, and I react, swinging the shiv in an upward motion toward his throat. Time seems to slow down as I watch the sharpened plastic edge slice through the air, heading straight for its target.
Zion’s eyes widen, but he quickly regains his composure, narrowly dodging the attack. He grabs my arm and twists it behind my back. The toothbrush shiv clatters to the ground, now out of my reach.
"Is that all you got?" Zion taunts, tightening his grip on my arm. “A makeshift weapon? Can’t use your own fists to defend yourself?”
Oh. Hell. No.
All that time I spent making a weapon to use against this fucker, and now it’s useless on the floor. But he’s right. I can take this shithead out in my sleep, and it’s about time I proved it. I don’t need the shiv when it’s only him against me.
He won’t take what’s mine. He won’t take control of my cellblock.
I wrangle free from his grasp with little effort, slamming my elbow into his stomach so he lets me go.
I turn, face him, but he’s fast. I ready myself, but instead, he scrambles to the floor and goes for my shiv.
Bitch!
Now he’s got the weapon I made, but no way will he use it against me. I slam into him until his back is against the concrete wall. “You fucking son of a bitch. Thought you didn’t need a weapon to take me out, you greasy cunt.”
His eyes fire up, and he pushes at me, but I hold fast, knocking his bald head into the wall.
“Fuck you, Savage,” he grits out.
“You wish.” I knock his head into the wall once more.
Where are the guards? Usually they don’t let a confrontation go on this long. I don’t dare look away to see where they are or what they’re doing.
I won’t take my gaze from Zion’s.
Until—
“Hey!” a guard rushes toward us.
Zion uses the split second my attention isn’t focused on him to thrust the shiv against my stomach, but I’m too quick for him. I grab his hand, twist it, and shove it into his own flesh instead.
He squeals like a fucking pig as the guard grabs me by the arms and pulls me off him.
The guard grabs the toothbrush. “This yours?”
