“And it ain’t that small, either,” someone says from behind me. I turn to find the Warden walking toward us. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” he asks Tank.
“Yes, boss.” Tank’s heated gaze has cooled, his tone sunken to a dull submission.
“Well, get, then,” the Warden tells him. Tank turns and goes through the door that leads to the parking garage.
When I look at the Warden, he’s scowling, but not after Tank. “Causing trouble, Amy?”
“No. I was just getting a bike.”
“You shouldn’t be out here on your own.” The Warden reaches out and grabs my elbow firmly. “Let’s return you to Jacks.” His fingers dig into my skin.
My face burns at how powerless I feel as the Warden steers me back toward the cell. Everyone gets out of our way and most call greetings to the Warden, who smiles and tips his hat.
When we reach Jacks’s cell, the Warden gives me a little shove inside. “You missing something?”
Jacks looks up from his sketch and sees us. He jumps to his feet, concerned.
“No, sir. Amy just went to see about getting a bike.”
The Warden beckons Jacks closer. When Jacks is near, he says in a low tone, “You can’t let your woman just wander off like that. She could get hurt. You have to take care of your property. I thought you’d be more careful, especially after what happened to Layla.”
Jacks’s face darkens, and he looks as if he’s about to defend himself, but instead he drops his head. “Yes, sir,” he mumbles.
I glare at the Warden, but he keeps speaking to Jacks in the same disappointed tone.
“It broke my heart when you let that little girl die, and it just about killed your father.”
Jacks’s jaw tightens. “I know. I’ll be more careful.”
He gives Jacks one last stern look, then turns to me. “All right now, see ya, little lady.” He smiles at me as if I’m a child, and walks away.
“What the hell happened to Brenna?” he asks, deflated.
“She had to go,” I snap. “She’s not my keeper. And why the hell did your uncle treat me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m your dog. Does he really believe in this ‘women as property’ crap?”
“Well, obviously,” Jacks grumbles.
“That’s sick. And you just let him talk to you like what happened to your sister was your fault.”
“I can’t help who my uncle is,” Jacks says. “Look, he’s an asshole. He’s always been a self-centered prick. What happened to Layla can’t possibly be his fault, even though he’s the big man here and should have protected her. So he blames me. He’s just scared, like everyone else.”
“Well, why don’t you say something to put a stop to it?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Jacks says, seething. “My uncle is in charge. He’s like a king. If you don’t do what he says, you aren’t welcome in Fort Black.”
“And you’re too scared to risk that,” I say bitterly.
Jacks stares at me; then, in a fit of frustration, he kicks the wall.
“I don’t have any power, Amy,” he says. “You think I like how things work here? I don’t. But I don’t want to die.”
“Neither do I,” I say. “But—”
“But what? I get that you fought for what was right at that other place you were at. And what happened? You ended up out there.” He gestures out the window. “And what’s more, you’re stuck here, while your sister might be dead.”
“She’s not dead!” I scream.
“Face facts. She probably is. It happens to everyone we love. That’s the world now.” His voice lacks any emotion.
“Screw you, Jacks!” Without a pause, I tear the door open and sprint down the corridor. My footsteps rattle the iron walkway in loud, bullet-like bursts.
I can hear him running after me.
“Amy!” he yells.
“What? Afraid your uncle will find out I’m not under your control?”
There’s a whoop from the cells below me, followed by catcalls. People are starting to gather in their doorways to watch.
“Get your woman, Jacks!” someone yells.
“Bitch can run!” another screams.
I fly down a stairwell, then another. I don’t even know where I’m going—I just need to run. Now I’m out of B and have shot into Cellblock A. Which is when two pairs of hands grab my arms. I look to either side of me and see shaved heads. It’s the fighters.
“Hey, I remember you,” one says, shoving me up against a wall. I deliver a swift kick to one of their shins, but the other one’s got me pinned.
“Guys,” the first one says, backing away. “That’s Jacks’s girl. You don’t want to mess with that.”
I can see the hesitation on their faces. I’m about to make another escape attempt when suddenly, from behind me, I hear a voice. Brenna.
“Leave her alone, you bastards.”
The men look up. When the one to my left loosens his grip, I wrench free, then throw my elbow in the other man’s ribs.