Chapter Eighteen
“W hat the fuck is this?!”
A roar that would normally stop everyone dead in their tracks is swallowed up by the noise. The sheer pandemonium is overwhelming these dank halls.
It’s loud , echoing more turmoil than usual. Shouting and banging coming from all sides framing the clomps of an organized march… One we’re not a part of.
My head flings around general population, watching on with wide eyes as unfamiliar faces stomp past us like we’re nothing. I’m used to being invisible… But clearly, Velle is not.
And he’s fucking pissed.
“Yo, what the fuck is going on, man??” Peters gasps, charging over with Jasper by his side. We’re all just standing around—myself, Trevel, Luthor and Ren being sort of shielded by a visibly edgy Rook, Joy, and Velle. “Where did these pricks come from??”
We’re all looking to Velle for any indication of what’s happening right now. It’s not even a choice; it’s a reflex.
He’s visibly fuming, of course, with that crazed twitch in his eye he gets when he’s about to crack skulls. But apparently, this is havoc even he can’t scowl away.
I thought it was odd that Dr. Love showed up in the rec room while we were down there, having our depressing version of “yard time.” I figured he’d just popped in to see Darcey, since the two of them are also disgustingly obsessed and inseparable.
But only a few minutes later, Rook and Velle came hustling into the room, and the four of them—the dynamic trio plus Dr. Love—huddled off in the corner for some bizarre meeting.
It was weird, and I was just about to subtly harass Trevel for more details on his history with the surly doctor, when voices came bellowing from across the room via the walkies—their cohorts hollering about some commotion up in Gen-pop.
It was immediately Defcon 1.
Like Disaster Dominoes . As soon as the first one fell, everything fell apart, quickly, uniforms toppling.
Rook, Velle, and Joy hustled us prisoners back up from the rec room, leaving Darcey and Dr. Love to return to The East. And we arrived to what can only be described as a coup .
The entirety of general population is being flooded with strangers. Not just any strangers, though. New muscle.
A whole-ass SWAT team of huge men is patrolling the halls, causing an uproar of mass hysteria. I have no idea who they are or why they’re here, but I remember what Peters said over the walkie… Something about new guards brought in by The Ivory .
Okay. This is it.
We’re officially screwed.
“He didn’t say anything to you?” Jasper asks Velle, keeping his voice down while we stand still, eyes shifting nervously like we’re being circled by sharks and we need to refrain from making any sudden movements.
“Is that a real question?” Velle grumbles, uncharacteristically unnerved.
As much as you want to hate the guy, when shit goes down, he’s the barometer.
The constant presence of stability in the form of his ever-present macho, haughty arrogance.
If Velle is posted up, arms folded, lips pursed, and that damn smug eyebrow cocked, you know things will probably be alright. As alright as they can be, anyway.
The last time something crazy and fucked up happened, Velle was nowhere to be found. It was troubling.
But this is worse. Because he’s right here , and every bit as uneasy as the rest of us.
“Get them back to their cells,” Velle says to Rook, then turns to Joy. “Round up the rest of the team. We’ll meet at the spot in twenty.”
Everyone scatters in different directions, except Rook, who stays with us. I don’t want to admit that I’m anxious as hell right now, but I am. I don’t like this… It’s not the good kind of excitement.
Glancing right, I meet Luthor’s glistening green gaze, his brows zipped in worry. But I look away fast, swallowing a lump in my throat.
Yea, things are awkward right now.
Nonetheless, I might need to buck the fuck up a little. As dramatic as that field trip was, what’s happening up here now is an epic shitstorm of glorious fuckery that makes our petty squabbling seem pretty damn childish.
I’m glad I was able to get in one last sparring session with Joy. Something tells me we won’t be doing that again for a long, long time.
“You,” Rook growls at Trevel, who points to himself. “Hands on that wall. You move, I shoot you. Got it?”
Trevel says nothing, casting me a puzzled glance before placing his palms flat on a nearby wall. Unfortunately, the rest of us barely make it a step through the doorway to the row before we’re ambushed by three huge assholes I’ve never seen before.
One of them immediately cuffs me, without a word, giving me a hard shove to the back until I stumble. My glare goes unnoticed. He just keeps pushing me toward my cell with my hands cuffed behind my back.
Rook is yelling at them, but it’s Ren’s shouts that have me looking over my shoulder. They’re physically ripping Luthor and Ren apart, bringing them in different directions.
Shit…
“Move, inmate.” The big dickhead hustles me into my cell, cutting off my view of what’s happening. He comes in with me, slamming the bars in my face, then stuffing me into the corner. “Stand still,” he grunts, proceeding to raid all of my belongings.
I watch him helplessly for a moment, my face springing back when I see Luthor being dragged past my cell, with Rook following, powerless to do a damn thing.
Fear coils my insides, and I inch closer to the bars.
I can’t see shit, but I need to know what’s happening out there.
It looked like they were bringing Ren out of the row…
“Where are they taking him??” Luthor cries from up the hall.
I flinch when something loud crashes next door. Jesus, they’re tearing the place apart.
“Baby, listen to me… It’ll be okay,” Ren calls out to Luthor.
I don’t need to see him to know he’s panicking. It’s audible, even over inmates screaming, metal slamming and clanging. It’s fucking bedlam. But I don’t care about any of that bullshit. I want to know what’s going on with them .
I need to know that my friends are alright.
“I’ll find you, no matter what, I promise!” Ren bellows, trying to be strong for Luthor, but I can hear the distressed tremor in his voice. My heart is crumbling where it’s lodged in my throat. “Lexington! I love you! Fuck you , you goddamn mouth-breather! Let g—”
His wails are cut off with the slam of a door, and now I’m really worried.
They’re bringing him somewhere else…? Why??
What are they going to… do to him?
Leaning up against the wall, I cringe as the fucker in my peripheral throws my stuff all over the place.
This is too much… What the hell is going on??
My mind races, sifting through scattered thoughts like attempting to clean up a giant mess— which I’m sure I’ll be doing as soon as this asshole leaves.
I’m not made of stone. Despite how pissed I was in the rec room, I do still care about Luthor and Ren. I brought up some shit down there that will undoubtedly be festering in their minds for a while, and I feel guilty about that…
Parker, for one. Luthor’s lost cellmates, for another.
I’m really not trying to second-guess myself here. I said what had to be said. But now that our safety is uncertain, it’s bringing on a wave of regret for the way I yelled at them not twenty minutes ago.
When the big douchebag has sufficiently destroyed most of my stuff, he leaves. Just fucking stomps off, slamming the bars behind him. Leaving me cuffed inside my cell, without a damn clue how I’m supposed to Houdini my way out of them to take a piss or sleep comfortably.
Prisoners are shouting these same sentiments from all angles, so at least I’m not alone. But it doesn’t make me feel better. Because my nervous bladder is acting up, and I kinda have to pee.
Pacing in a small circle, on the only part of floor that isn’t covered in junk, I attempt to block out the noise of these new fucking guards, abusing inmates, tearing things to shreds…
Terrorizing the halls, and doing so with limited words, and dead expressions.
Most alarmingly of all, they’re doing it right in front of Velle and his team.
And Velle’s paralyzed to stop it.
“Kang?!” The yelp breaks through it all, my name being called from up the row. I stop dead in my tracks. “I’m sorry! I never meant to hurt you!”
My legs give out, and I crash into a pile of clothes and broken plastic.
“You’re so important to me,” Luthor keeps shouting, fear and emotion trembling his words. But he says them anyway, because he wants me to listen. “You gotta know that!”
My face drops into my hands, heart splitting in half.
He sounds scared… My best fucking friend, man…
I swear to God, I can’t…
Emotion is welling behind my eyes. Luthor is the smart one, the rational one. I think he knows we might not see each other for a while after this.
So he’s shouting his feelings up the goddamn hall for me to hear.
A broken whimper climbs up my throat, and I push my trembling lips together to stop it from getting out.
I want to respond, I know I do. To yell out that I forgive him, and I’m sorry for what I said. That I don’t hate him, and I never could. Things got a little fucked up, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love him like a brother, because I do and I always will.
But I don’t. I can’t… My vocal cords just won’t work.
There’s something seriously wrong with me. Why can’t I speak up?? Be honest about what’s in my heart to the people who matter…?
The secrets I hold are starting to feel like a disease , infecting my emotional state from all sides. It’s not healthy, keeping so much inside that I eventually burst and need to either hurt someone or myself.
I might be detrimentally broken.
The uproar eventually fades off into the night. But I stay seated on the floor, among the ruins of stuff that doesn’t mean dick compared to the shattered remains of what should have been an unbreakable friendship.