1. Chapter 1

1

R ory leapt off the bed at the sound of a scream. For a minute, he couldn’t remember where he was, let alone work out who the howl of terror was coming from.

He launched back, colliding with another person, and fell on their neighbouring bed. He scuffled with the stranger, and their grunts and mumbles only added to the soundtrack of horror coming from the other side of the room. They both fell silent with their fists scrunched in each other’s T-shirts, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

If death had a sound, they were listening to it, and it could be felt down to the bone.

“Jesus Christ,” Rory mumbled.

The man he had hold of nodded. “I don’t think he’s going to help.”

The lights came on, and Rory pushed off of the body he was clutching. He stared at the man thrashing on the bed on the other side of the room, stuck in the midst of a nightmare. A lock clunked, and two prison officers rushed inside.

They seemed hesitant, didn’t approach, and darted panicked looks at each other.

“Benjamin!” one shouted, but it had no effect.

The other officer tried to whisper the name instead, but the softer approach made no difference. No voice could reach the screaming man. He had fallen into the depths of hell, and unbeknownst to him, he was dragging them all down with him. Rory shuddered—he couldn’t imagine what was happening inside the man’s head.

It was clear that neither of the officers wanted to approach the man on the bed, and Rory didn’t blame them. He was huge, muscular, tattooed, with tired eyes when they were open, but closed, they were framed with angry lines, an expression of pure agony, and it was terrifying.

The closest officer pointed at Rory. “You two, get against the wall.”

Rory nodded, and he and his fellow inmate pressed their backs to the wall and held their hands up. They didn’t dare move or make a sound but watched with slack jaws.

Another prison officer came into the room, rolled his eyes, and strolled up to the man tossing and turning with terror.

“Captain!”

The howling stopped. The tortured prisoner rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His great chest heaved, and he swiped his hand down his face.

When Rory had first met him, they’d exchanged names—Captain Benjamin Tracy. Rory had called him Captain for short, and that earned him a small smile. He’d decided he would always refer to him as Captain from that moment on.

“You were having a nightmare,” the officer told him.

Captain burst out laughing, but it was strangled and wrong. “A nightmare? Nightmares aren’t real. Everything I saw, the emotions in my mind, the pain in my chest… It’s real.” He lifted his hands above him, and they trembled wildly. “I need a drink.”

“You won’t be having one of those for the next five years.”

He laughed again, and Rory watched the tears run from his eyes. He sobbed while he laughed, and the sound and sight were hard to watch, and equally hard to look away from.

Rory stared down at his feet until an officer grabbed his forearm and pulled him towards his bed.

“You’ve got one more hour of shut-eye. I suggest you make the most of it.”

Rory lay back down on the mattress but didn’t get under the sheet. He didn’t want any obstacle tripping him if he had to launch from the bed again. He felt Captain’s eyes on him, and they made his heart thump. He glanced up and linked eyes with the strained ones watching him.

“Did I wake you?”

Rory shrugged and looked away. “I was half awake anyway.”

Captain snorted, then rolled over to face the wall. Rory could see the back of his T-shirt was drenched in sweat. Captain kept his hair military short, and when they went through the booking process, Rory spotted his dog tags swinging on his neck. He’d been forced to place them in a box to be returned to him on his eventual release date.

“Hey…”

Rory turned over and looked at the inmate to his right. With his brain functioning again, he remembered the guy’s name was Ollie. The room had eight bunks, but only three were in use. Rory had picked first, followed by Ollie, who chose the bed next to Rory’s, and then lastly, Captain, who took the bed furthest away from them.

Rory craned his neck closer to Ollie’s bed, and Ollie did the same, closing the gap until they could speak without disturbing Captain.

“What is it?” Rory asked.

Ollie lifted his head to steal a glance at Captain. His brown eyes were wide. “I hope I’m not sharing a cell with him.”

Rory snorted. “That’s not funny.”

“Just saying, I damn near shit myself.”

Rory sniffed loudly, frowned, then murmured, “You sure you didn’t?”

Ollie gave him a shove. “Screw you.”

There was humour in his tone, and Rory smiled. They were going on to the wing that morning, and Rory was thankful he was going with company. The three of them had only met the day before. Captain had been unnervingly quiet, but Ollie rattled with nerves and stuck close to Rory.

Ollie was in for nine years. Rory didn’t ask what for; that wasn’t the done thing. Inmates asked about time and then worked out the severity of the crime from there.

Captain was in for five years and Ollie for nine. By inmates’ reasoning, Ollie must’ve done the worst crime, but looking at him—young, slim, and with a head of boyish blond hair—it was hard to imagine he had done worse than the scarred military man who’d screamed them awake and freaked out the officers.

He had told Captain and Ollie he was in for eight years.

It was a lie.

Rory didn’t need to ask what Ollie or Captain had been convicted of either.

He already knew.

Oliver Linton, the grinning blond on his right, was in for manslaughter. He’d stabbed his abusive dad to death.

Captain Benjamin Tracy was in for a drunk driving collision, the injured party not a person, but a famous war memorial, that he proceeded to urinate on in front of a group of school children.

Rory read files about them prior to his assignment, and it had been planned that the three of them would enter the prison together to squash any suspicion. They acted as Rory’s veil, his cover, and when he glanced at Ollie smiling at him, Rory was glad he was going inside with someone he could get on with.

He was an undercover police officer about to walk into a prison full of inmates.

If he hadn’t already lost his mind, he was about to.

A few hours later, the three of them walked in single file towards the wing. Captain was at the front, Rory in the middle, and Ollie at the back. The gate was unlocked and pulled open, and they stepped into the wing. The space was huge, filled with rectangular tables and hard-looking plastic chairs. The officer showed them the laundry room, the gate that led to the library, another that led to the gym, and the final one that took them into the yard. The prison was two floors high, the metal of the stairs, walkway, and cells making it feel colder and harsher than Rory had imagined. That was without looking at the faces of his fellow inmates, whose snarls and curled lips made Rory want to roll into a ball of submission.

If they found out who he was, they’d kill him.

The eyes of the inmates didn’t focus on him. Some hungry gazes fell on Ollie, and some challenging stares attached to Captain. Neither were friendly looks, and Rory grew uncomfortable for both his new companions.

Rory was largely ignored, exactly like he wanted, but then the weight of someone’s gaze made him tilt his head up, and he looked at the man hovering on the top walkway.

The one man he wanted to appear inconspicuous to was staring straight at him through slightly narrowed eyes.

Sebastian Claw.

Rory’s breath caught. He looked down again, but his skin prickled with a hot flush, and he couldn’t resist the pull of Sebastian’s stare and took another look.

Sebastian’s blue eyes were piercing, and his grey hair looked at home surrounded by metal and white walls. Even with him metres above, Rory could see the shadow on his jaw and top lip, darker than the hair on his head.

Sebastian leaned his forearms on the metal railing and tilted his head when he caught Rory looking and studied him right back. Rory steeled himself and kept his expression blank.

“Hey!”

Rory tore his gaze from the man above him and looked at the prison officer clicking his fingers in Rory’s face. “What is it?”

“What is it, sir ,” the officer corrected. “And I told you to come with me. I’ll take you up to your cell.”

Rory clutched his bag of belongings to his chest, shot Ollie a glance, then followed the officer up two sets of stairs to get to the second floor. Sebastian didn’t turn to him; he continued to look down on the wing, but as Rory passed behind him, he saw his back tense and his biceps bulge as he flexed them.

“Cell 82…”

The officer gestured for Rory to go inside. He stepped in and looked at the bunk bed, the small basin and toilet, and the shabby-looking closet. He glanced at the beds, both made, both free of creases. Rory’s heart thumped harder. He didn’t know which bed was meant for him.

He turned to the officer for help, but he’d gone.

“Shit.”

Rory turned back to the beds, hoping to find some evidence of which one his cellmate slept in. There were no pictures tacked to the walls or hairs on the pillow; Rory was clueless.

“You’re on the top one.”

Rory jumped forward at the voice and hugged his bag against his chest. He knew Sebastian was behind him and had filled the doorway with his bulk.

“Bit jumpy aren’t you, newbie.”

Rory turned around and faked a soft laugh. “I didn’t know you were there.”

Sebastian’s arms were folded over his chest. His tight T-shirt stretched over his pronounced pectorals, and his biceps rounded. “You should always know where I am…”

“What?”

He took a step closer, and Rory backed away fast until his back met the wall.

“I’m everywhere… Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.”

“Good, what’s your name?”

“Rory Price.”

Sebastian pursed his lips. “How long are you in for?”

“Eight years.”

Sebastian snorted, then nodded. “I’m in for sixteen, but I’m coming to the end of my sentence. Only nine months to go.”

Rory already knew; that was why he was there. He had to uncover Sebastian’s future plans, stop them before they could even take physical form.

“That must be a nice feeling.”

“Isn’t it just…”

Sebastian stared until Rory looked away. Rory put his bag on the top bunk and started sorting through his clothes.

“You find it hard to look me in the eye, don’t you?”

Rory paused. “No, I don’t—”

“Really? Look at me now then.”

Rory curled his toes in his trainers and faced Sebastian’s intense eyes. They didn’t blink. The blue was like ice, and Rory withheld a shudder. Looking Sebastian Claw in the eye wasn’t comfortable in the slightest. He glanced away, then cursed under his breath at his easy surrender.

“I’ll find out why…” Sebastian murmured.

“Why what?” Rory whispered.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Why you find it hard to look at me.”

He left the cell. Rory slumped forward and pressed his forehead into the mattress.

He had to befriend Sebastian, not get on his bad side. The assignment relied on him striking up a bond with the criminal, but their first exchange had been anything but friendly.

Rory looked up at the sound of a knock.

Ollie stepped into the cell, then checked over his shoulder. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

“What?”

“Your cellmate, the silver fox, looks like a psycho too.”

“Who are you sharing with?”

Ollie scrunched his face. “Teddy Saul.”

Rory frowned. As a name went, it seemed friendly enough. “How long’s he in for?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t speak.”

“Doesn’t speak?”

“I asked the officer about him; Teddy’s not said a word since he arrived here ten years ago. The officer doesn’t think he can speak.”

Rory widened his eyes at the ten years—Teddy’s crime must’ve been severe for him to still be inside after ten.

“He grunted at me when he saw me, and I said hello in reply. That’s as far as our conversation has gone.”

“Me and Sebastian haven’t exactly hit it off either.”

Rory opened the small closet and shoved his clothes in the spare space. Sebastian might have looked at him like he wanted him dead, but he at least had the manners to clear him a space.

“Breakfast’s happening below.”

Rory nodded. “Then we’d better get to it.”

They walked back out on to the landing, and most of the curious faces were distracted by food. Rory wrinkled his nose at the smell of burned toast and watery egg. There was a line, but many inmates walked in front of them and got served first. They didn’t protest but lowered their gazes and waited for their turn.

The toast was black, and no amount of scraping the charred bread could revive it. The eggs were at least edible, and the coffee, although weak, was soothing to Rory’s taste buds.

Ollie pointed out Teddy. “That’s my cellmate.”

Teddy sat at a table by himself and scooped eggs into his mouth like he was pressed for time. Bald head, but he made up for it with a dark beard. He wore a tank top, and although less muscular than Sebastian and Captain, he was still pretty defined.

Ollie leaned closer. “Looks crazy, don’t he?”

“He might be all right.”

“What about your cellmate?”

Sebastian was engaged in intense conversation with two other inmates. His lips stopped moving, he frowned, and then he looked at Rory. Rory spluttered his coffee, drawing the unwanted attention of the table behind them. The inmates laughed, and one of the group sat up straight to speak to them.

“Can’t handle your drink, sweetheart?”

Rory didn’t reply to the man. He wiped the coffee off the table with his sleeve and didn’t glance back.

“Didn’t you hear me, sweetheart ?”

“Say something,” Ollie muttered.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

Rory raised the cup. “It’s hot.”

“Glad you think so,” the inmate replied. “You’re not bad either.”

“No… I…I meant the coffee.”

“Am I not hot then?”

Captain walked into view, then sat down at the table, blocking both Rory and Ollie from the men behind him. Rory inwardly sighed with relief and wondered whether Captain knew he’d just saved him.

Captain huffed at his breakfast and whisked the eggs with his fork. Rory noticed he had more on his tray than both him and Ollie put together, and his toast wasn’t burned to a charcoal crisp.

“You’re already making an impression,” Rory mumbled.

The inmate serving in the canteen had his eyes on Captain’s back. He bit his lip and dragged his gaze up and down a few times, then a yell from another inmate got his attention, and he started serving up again.

“Is he still staring at me?” Captain asked.

Ollie smirked. “Not at the moment, but you’ve certainly got an admirer.”

“Until I terrify him later.”

“Why are you going to terrify him?” Rory asked.

“Not on purpose, I mean when I go to sleep.”

“That wasn’t a one-off?”

“Those night terrors happen more than they don’t happen.”

Rory glanced down at the table. “Maybe you should talk to the doctor.”

Captain hissed and shook his head.

“It’s not weak—”

“I know it’s not, but any suffering I go through is deserved.”

Ollie snorted. “You’re only in here for five. Whatever you did couldn’t have been that bad—”

“I’m not suffering over that; that day doesn’t torment me.”

“Then what does?” Ollie asked.

“None of your business. Point is, he won’t be looking at me like that tomorrow.”

“We’re still looking at you fine,” Ollie muttered.

Captain glared at both of them. He didn’t look at them like he wanted to eat them or kill them—his look was vacant, dead, and it was equally disturbing. There were dark bags sunken into his skin, and his irises were almost as dark as his pupils. Ollie averted his gaze, but Rory kept looking back.

“I make people uncomfortable. Mark my words, I’ll get no admiring glances this time tomorrow, and the guys that look at me like they want to fight me will pity me, but I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about you two.”

“Us?” Rory muttered.

“I’m not the only one that’s got some interested glances…”

Rory swallowed and looked over at Sebastian, but he’d gone.

“Not anyone over there, I meant the arsehole behind me. Had his eyes on you since we came in.”

“Really?”

“I overheard him talking with his group, discussing both of you.”

Rory and Ollie shared a look. “What did they say?”

“Ollie’s got a lot of attention. Some guy on the second floor is practically salivating over you.”

Rory heard Ollie’s forced swallow. “Shit…”

“But don’t worry, when he found out whose cell you were in, they shut up pretty quick.”

“What’s so bad about Teddy?” Ollie whispered.

Captain shrugged. “I don’t know, but I get the impression they won’t cross him. Being in his cell, he’s pretty much your unappointed bodyguard. They call it claiming in here.”

Ollie shuddered. “I’ve been… claimed ? I suddenly feel like I’ve got the short straw.”

“You’ll be all right,” Rory said.

“And you know that for sure, do you?”

Rory didn’t reply.

“Exactly,” Ollie hissed.

“Stick with me, and you’ll be fine,” Captain muttered.

“What about at night?”

Captain shrugged. “You’re on your own.”

“Bloody great,” Ollie huffed, shoving his tray away.

“You’d better be careful too,” Captain mumbled.

Rory nodded. He wasn’t looking forward to his first night alone with Sebastian. He knew basic martial arts, but against a guy as strong as Sebastian, it was stupid to try it.

“Pauly’s got you on his radar.”

Rory blinked. “Who?”

“The guy behind me.” He shifted to the side slightly so Rory could take a proper look. Pauly was older; his brown hair had receded, and his wrinkles cut deep into his skin. He stabbed at his eggs and ripped bites out of his toast. He’d been the one who had called Rory sweetheart.

Rory bit his lip. “ Jesus …”

Captain nodded. “Exactly, so I’m proposing a training regime.”

“Training regime?” Rory mumbled.

“There’s a gym. I’ll help you two work out, toughen you up, teach you how to defend yourselves.”

“What do you want in return?” Ollie asked.

“Nothing,” Captain mumbled. He looked down at the table, then lifted his head. “I’ve trained many young men for battle. They come to me like you, and I toughen them up. This time ahead is going to be a war, and I’m only going to be with you for a few years of it. The quicker I toughen you up, the longer you’ll survive in here.”

They ate their breakfasts in silence, then Captain left to unpack his things into his cell.

“I take it back,” Ollie blurted.

“What?” Rory said.

Ollie looked longingly at the cell Captain had disappeared into. “I bloody wish he was my cellmate.”

They’d spent the day learning about the prison routine and the other inmates. Rory avoided Pauly’s glances but couldn’t stop seeking out Sebastian, doing his best to get a read on his new cellmate. As far as he could see, Sebastian spent most of his time prowling the top landing, watching the inmates below.

A fight broke out over pool, a small scuffle that ended as soon as Sebastian yelled down at them to ‘cut it out’. The two quarrelling men backed away from each other, and calm was temporarily restored.

It was half past seven when the officers started calling out, “Lock up.”

The officers waved them to their feet. Rory exchanged a nervous look with Ollie, then they both went to their respective cells. Ollie was on the bottom, Captain on the first, and Rory right at the top on the second floor.

When he walked inside the cell, Sebastian was scrubbing his teeth by the sink. He didn’t turn to Rory, and he snuck inside before heaving himself onto the top bunk.

Sebastian paused with his toothbrush in his mouth and linked eyes with Rory in the mirror. A few tense seconds passed. Rory held his breath, expecting something to happen, then the scrubbing resumed, followed by Sebastian spitting in the sink.

“If you’re worried about me forcing myself on you, that doesn’t interest me.”

Rory was hit by a wave of relief, then his stomach soured, and he picked at the mattress.

“What about Teddy?” he whispered.

Sebastian spun around and snapped, “Speak up!”

His tone and words hit Rory like a whip, and he stopped picking nervous holes into the mattress and sat up straight. “I said what about Teddy?”

Sebastian snorted. “You’re worried about your new friend, are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Young, good-looking… How old is he?”

“Eighteen.”

Sebastian tugged off his T-shirt, and Rory raked his eyes over his defined chest, the dark hair that trailed down, then looked away with a dry mouth.

“Only a kid.”

“Teddy’s not going to hurt him, right?”

“I doubt it.”

Rory closed his eyes and sighed in relief. “Good.”

“Teddy, he looks hard and has this crazy side, but he’s a softy. He gets attached to his cellmates, feels responsible, gets protective. Your friend’s lucky to end up in a cell with him, luckier than you are at least.”

Rory swallowed. “What does that mean?”

“Means I’m not going to hurt you in this cell, but outside of it, I don’t care what happens to you. Some guy wants to use your teeth as dice, not my problem. Some guy wants to see how pain affects the pitch of your voice, don’t come crying to me. Some guy wants to see how quickly you bleed out, don’t stain my bed. Understand?”

“I understand.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he smiled. “Good, now get ready for bed.”

Rory slipped down from the top bunk and reached into the cabinet for his toiletries. He brushed his teeth, then splashed water on his face. He glanced up at his pale complexion, his ruffled brown hair and wide-open green eyes.

Gone was the composed police officer he wanted so badly to be.

He’d been stripped back to a person he didn’t recognize.

“How old are you again?” Sebastian asked.

“Twenty-five, and you?”

“Almost double that.”

Rory knew he was forty-nine. He knew Sebastian had been convicted at thirty-three for murder.

Rory hesitantly peeled off his clothing, overly aware of the attention on him. He looked at Sebastian on the bed, lying on his side, head propped up on his hand as he watched Rory get ready for bed with no emotion on his face.

“You trying to tease me?” Sebastian murmured.

“What?” Rory took a step back, knocking into the wall. “No!”

“Then get on with it.”

Rory kicked his trousers aside, but a firm finger wag from Sebastian had him reaching for them. He folded them up, along with his T-shirt, and placed them in the closet.

“That’s better. Night, Rory.”

He didn’t say good night in return. He climbed up on the top bunk and lay down. Sebastian Claw was beneath him, staring up at his mattress, burning holes in it with his intense glare. Rory knew he wasn’t going to be sleeping that night. He couldn’t hear Sebastian breathing below him; there was no shifting of the bed or rustle of a pillow.

Sebastian was unnervingly quiet, and Rory knew he was lying awake too. Rory tracked the ceiling, fixating on bumps and cracks as he thought of Sebastian beneath him.

He was supposed to form a bond with the killer, but so far, he got the impression Sebastian hated his guts.