Chapter 5

There’s nothing more satisfying than sticking my fist into some motherfucker’s face. Well, except for maybe sticking my cock inside Nina’s pussy.

I stare at the pathetic excuse for a man as he trembles, no doubt sensing my raw, animalistic rage permeating the room.

Shortly after I arrived in the cafeteria, the rest of the inmates cleared out, recognizing me for what I am—a monster. A predator.

And them? They are my prey.

The man’s name is Joseph Turner, though no one here calls him that. Instead, he goes by the dumbass nickname of One Shot. Rumor has it that before he was sent to Nightmare Penitentiary, he worked as an assassin in a guild that rivaled Damien’s. If his name is any indication, he’s able to take his targets out in one fatal shot.

Unfortunately, his background means he’s also immune to most torture techniques. If we want to find out the truth about the dead pool, we’re going to need him to talk.

My wolf prowls beneath the surface of my skin, making me feel more animal than human. In the reflection above Joseph’s shoulder, I see long fangs contorting my mouth and dark, pitch black fur on my arms. It’s a stark contrast to my messy blond hair and golden skin.

Joseph releases a moan of pain, and satisfaction races through me.

This…this…this monster was directly responsible for what almost happened to Nina. I can’t allow him to live.

“Are you going to talk, motherfucker?” I roar, slamming my fist once more into his stomach. He’s currently tied to a chair in the center of the cafeteria, the rest of the tables moved away. When Damien told me the truth about Ben, about the dead pool, rage like no other slithered across my skin like a fucking viper. That rage…it needs an outlet. And Joseph’s face is looking rather punchable.

I’ve been trying to be better for Nina. But I’m a protector first and foremost, and that job requires me to do what most would deem immoral. I’m sure I could get Damien and Rion to come interrogate this pathetic man, but where’s the fun in that? Joseph Turner is mine.

“Fuck you,” he hisses, blood coating his teeth. He turns his head to the side to spit it out, and I just barely contain my grimace as the dark red liquid lands centimeters from my boot. Motherfucking asshole.

Smirking like a savage, I land punch after punch into his face, my smile widening with every speck of blood. By the time I’m done with him, he’ll be nearly unrecognizable.

“Tell me about the dead pool,” I seethe, pulling my arm back in preparation to land another blow. “We know you gave it to Ben.”

“Fuck you.”

This time, teeth fly from his mouth with the force of my blow.

“Are those the only two words you know how to say?” I ask darkly. Movement over his shoulder captures my attention, and I can’t help but flash him a malevolent smile. His face instantly whitens, because let’s be honest—any smile I direct at anyone other than Nina is most likely not a nice one. This one in particular promises bloodshed and pain. Lots and lots of pain.

“You don’t have to talk.” I shrug nonchalantly as Damien stalks forward, each step controlled and precise. He wears his customary black suit and pressed white shirt, the cuffs rolled up slightly. His dark hair is smoothed away from his face as he steps around me to stop in front of Joseph.

When a wet stain appears on Joseph’s pants, I practically cackle with glee.

“You good?” I ask Damien, clapping a hand on his shoulder. The crazy mage doesn’t even turn around as he procures a blade from the inside of his jacket sleeve.

“He’ll talk,” he vows in a deadly voice—a voice that’s made of nightmares. Of monsters and beasts and spiders and creatures that go bump in the night.

With one more punch aimed at Joseph’s head, I turn on my heel and leave the cafeteria. I have a mate to attend to.

My skin itches with the need to take her in my arms, hold her to me, protect her. I need to see with my own two eyes that that asshole hadn’t hurt her. Hearing it and seeing it are two entirely separate things. I need her more than I need air to breathe and water to drink.

I move quickly down the cellblock until I reach the section we delegated for ourselves. No one is allowed in our sanctuary.

“Bronson!” a cheery voice says, and I feel my heartbeat increase as I turn in Nina’s direction.

She’s sitting on Abel’s lap as she plays a game of chess against Cain. My eyes immediately travel over her heartbreakingly beautiful and perfect features, cataloguing any changes. Is she hurt? Did she get nicked with Ben’s blade? If any of her blood left her body…

I take a deep breath to quell the rage percolating in my stomach, instead choosing to focus on her. Only her. Gradually, the rest of the world falls away.

Her dark hair hangs around her like molten obsidian stones. It frames her heart-shaped face and milky white eyes. Her lush lips are quirked into a mischievous smirk, one that I wish to kiss away. How did I get so lucky? How did I find someone as perfect and as beautiful as she is?

She must sense something hanging stagnant in the air around us, my need for her perhaps, because she stealthily jumps down from Abel’s lap and runs towards me. I hold her in my arms, inhaling her sweet scent as she clings to me just as fiercely.

“Mine,” I growl, sliding my arms beneath her ass to hold her steady. With a rumble, I turn on my heel and stalk towards my cell. I need to feel her in my arms, feel her heartbeat thumping beneath my hand.

“You can’t just take her,” Abel objects, annoyed. I whip my head around to level him with a piercing, glacial glare. If he even attempts to take Nina from me, I’ll rip him apart. He must see that in my gaze, or maybe he just sees the pure insanity emanating from my eyes, since he holds up his hands placatingly. “You know what? Carry on.”

“Fucking pussy,” Cain murmurs to his brother, and Abel shoots him a dark look.

“I didn’t see you fighting for our girl, brother.”

I turn around just as Cain throws himself across the table, the chessboard clattering to the ground. Nina giggles at their antics, her thin arms tightening around me.

When I enter my cell, I drop her carefully onto my bed and hurry to cocoon her in my blankets. She needs to be safe and warm.

“Bron,” she murmurs as I grab a second quilt and tuck it around her body. Soon, only her eyes, pert nose, and plush lips are visible. Not even her cascade of black hair can be seen. “Is this really necessary?”

“Mate,” I rumble out as I move to sit behind her, pulling her against my chest. Her cushioned head rests just above my heart, and I stroke up and down her covered arm. “Protect.”

Fuck, I can’t even talk like a damn human. The thought of how close she came to death, of how close she came to leaving me, makes me both terrified and furious. Terrified of living in a world without her in it, and furious at the fucker who dared attempt such a thing in the first place. A part of me wishes I had been there to see Ben die. Maybe then my beast would be pacified.

“You can’t leave me,” I growl out as I plant kisses across her cheek and then down to her lips. “You. Can’t. Leave. Me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers, her voice merely a breath of air. “You’re stuck with me.” She giggles self-consciously, almost as if she believes that’s a bad thing, but I practically preen at those words.

She’s wrong, though. It’s not me who is stuck with her. It’s her who is stuck with me. My brothers and I have claimed her as our own, as our woman. She came barreling into our life with doe-like eyes, innocent smiles, and a light so blinding that it chased away our darkness.

Now that we have her, now that we’ve gotten a taste of what life can be like with her, we’ll never let her go.