Chapter 5

5

VICTOR

S irens blare, and chaos erupts.

The voice on the speaker insists the inmates remain calm and security will escort everyone back to their rooms. But that voice is safe behind thick walls and bulletproof glass. They have no bearing on the crazies screaming at the top of their lungs and starting a riot in the common area.

Through it all, I remain seated, watching as the loonies begin their parade. They squeal and dance, shout and throw wild fists into anything that will connect. A crayon narrowly misses my head, flung by Bethany Howlett from across the room. Moments ago, it was used to draw amateur flowers and her childhood home. Mom, Dad, Bethany, and dog—all happy to the side.

How beautiful it is when chaos reigns supreme.

"Code black in room thirty-eight. I repeat. Code black in room thirty-eight," another calm announcement from the intercom system.

This one sends my heart into my throat. Room thirty-eight—Sedona Quinn's office. If I wasn't paying attention, I might've missed it. But now that I know my woman is in danger, fury courses through my veins.

I launch out of my chair and sprint toward the small door that brought me into the common area. Two officers stand with batons in hand, ready to beat the piss out of anyone who tries crossing the boundary.

"Where do you think you're going, Cullen?" one asks, pressing the tip of his baton into my chest. "Your room's that way." He gestures with his head to the line of people forming on the other side of the room.

"Listen, big man, we can do this the easy way." I press my palm against my chin and crack my neck. "Or we can do it the fun way. Choice is yours."

"You looking to get your ass kicked?" He prods me with the baton again.

In here, they don't keep us chained up. A mistake these goons will regret.

Before the stick can touch me a third time, I grab the tip and drive my fist into his wrist, disarming him and taking his weapon as my own. The second guard raises his arm to swing his weapon, but with a stabbing motion, I jam the handle into his Adam's apple. He crumbles to the ground, gasping for air.

"Woah, wo—" The first steps back, clutching his wrist. "You don't have to?—"

I slam the baton against his cheek to ensure he won't follow me down the hall. There's going to be hell to pay for knocking out two guards, but that's a bridge I'll cross when I get there.

Sedona's office isn't far from the common room, and I make it there in a quick sprint. The halls are empty for the most part, except for a doctor who cowers away at the sight of me.

A solo guard stands in front of Sedona's door. It hasn't been very long, I suppose, but you'd think a doctor's safety would warrant more than Michael Rowe. He's old, on the heftier side, with six months left until retirement. Hardly the man I'd put faith in to save Sedona.

"Relax, old man. I'll handle this," I say.

"Huh? What?" Michael's beady eyes nearly burst out of his head as he takes me in. Though I don't trust him to do any saving, I'm lucky to have made an acquaintance of him in my time within these walls. "Absolutely not. You're supposed to?—"

"Be in my room. Yes, yes, I know. But I'm not. I'm here. And I'm going in there." I point at the closed door.

"You're gonna get yourself killed," he says, but either because of awe at my want to protect Sedona or the total lack of wanting to fight, Michael gets out of my way.

"I'll take my chances."

I open the door and step inside.

The giant fucker stands behind Sedona, with one arm wrapped around her throat and the other around her belly. They're on her side of the desk, and from what I can gauge, he isn't suffocating her. He's just playing out a power fantasy.

I shut the door behind me and step deeper into the room.

"Making a habit of letting convicts loose, huh, Doc?" I tease. It isn't the time, sure, but she's safe because I'm here.

Sedona's eyes light up on seeing me.

"Don't you take one step closer," the giant speaks. His voice carries the same dullness as the rest of the medicated hoard who inhabit this asylum.

"Or you'll what?" I take another step against his threat. "Trust me, big boy, if you hurt a hair on her head, I'll tear your dick off and beat you to death with it."

Being confined with people like him, I've learned their habits and what makes them tick. Threats of violence are often the best motivation to stop. Unlike me, they lack clarity and foresight.

"You're like me. You're not gonna hurt me," the lummox says.

"You sure about that?" Another step forward.

This time, he recoils with Sedona in tow. The back of his knees hit a low shelf full of trinkets, and it causes them to stumble. Well, no time like the present. On his misstep, I sprint forward. Sedona lets out a little yelp but ducks as far away as she can before I collide with the giant. His grip releases fully as our bodies meet, and Sedona dips off to the side.

I tackle the brute to the ground, and he meets my eyes with a panicked stare. It doesn't last long before my fists start connecting with every part of his face.

"You think you're a big man, huh?" Right hook. "Trying to hurt someone who can't defend themselves?" Left. "Always a tough bastard until someone bigger rocks around." Right, left, right. A constant stream of fists long after the crying stopped, and my knuckles dripped red.

"Victor, stop. You're going to kill him," Sedona's voice hits my ear.

To hell with it. Death is a mercy for this piece of shit. I'm not stopping until he's learned a lesson even his fucked-up mind won't forget.