First message
Not a damn thing moves in Unit 27 without my say-so—or at least, that’s what I tell myself. The new guy is testing it. Two weeks in, and he’s already starting fights.
I’m in the common room, playing spades with Declan and two old timers, when it happens—he plops down at a table with a jacket already draped over the seat. Red doesn’t hesitate. He shoves the kid, voice sharp as he hurls insults and threats.
Rookie move. You never sit where someone’s claimed, especially not on a jacket. This guy’s been asking everyone for contraband—now he’s poking fights.
I glare at Declan. Really? Just gonna watch your bunkie get his face rearranged?
Declan shrugs, says: I ain’t his daddy. He’s gotta learn.
I sigh, shifting my dip to my other cheek with a lazy grin. Give away my spot. I’ll handle this.
I calmly stroll over right as Red grabs him by the collar, fist wound up. The new guy freezes, hands up, voice cracking. Another rookie move. I clear my throat, and Red immediately stops, storming off. I lean in, smile gone.
You tryin’ to get killed? I drawl, voice calm, deliberate.
The kid stammers: N-no… I just—I need—
I cut him off. I’m Bell. You need somethin’ in my unit? You don’t ask randoms. You ask me.
He nods too fast. I tap the table, eyes sharp.
Here’s some free advice. This place don’t care if you’re scared. Only about mistakes. One slip, and it won’t be me remindin’ you.
He’s pretty up close. Young, too—19? 20? Pity. This place might ruin him.