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I could see her as plain as day. The lights were back on. The real lights, not the emergency pulsing ones from the night before. If the power had been restored, did that mean the riot was over?
I had to check.
I leaned to one side and gently placed Harper on the mattress. She mumbled under her breath but didn’t wake up.
I pulled on my pants and didn’t bother with the shirt. I approached the door. It hissed open and I peered left and right, along either long hallway.
Signs of the barricade remained at the crossroad juncture. The beds and tables and chairs lay broken and scattered across the space. I didn’t notice any bodies among the debris. But there were smears of blood along the walls, and something brown and turgid gathered in a thick pool on the floor. I preferred not to think about what that was.
It was quiet. I doubted the warden would allow the power to be turned back on if he hadn’t successfully seized control of the prison once more.
I turned back into my room and scooped up my T-shirt.
“Harper,” I said. “You need to wake up.”
She muttered under her breath and turned her head to the other side of the bed.
I wish I could have let her sleep more but things were happening, and they could be happening faster than I realized.
I sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over, and gently prodded Harper on the arm.
“Harper? You need to get up.”
She groaned as she lifted her head and peered over at me. One eye was shut completely, the other squinted and peered at me through a tiny slit.
With the riot taking place, sleep had been fitful and came only in brief spurts. I doubted our… activities had helped much either.
Harper stretched her arms and wrapped the blanket around herself.
“It’s the riot,” I said. “I think it’s over.”
Her eyes snapped open and she peered up at me.
“Really?” she said. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure,” I said. “The power’s back on and the barricade has been demolished. I can’t see any prisoners anywhere.”
Harper tossed her legs over the side of the bed, bent down, and picked up her clothes. She got dressed, taking her time to ensure she didn’t accidentally flash me her skin.
Funny, I thought, considering I’d seen—and kissed—every inch of it last night.
Several times.
With her prowess between the sheets, it was no surprise the champion had claimed her for himself.
He would take only the best and I found it difficult to believe any of the other Prizes could be better than her.
She looked good, she smelled good, she fucked amazingly well. She ticked the boxes of every red-blooded male in the prison.
Including me.
I had bedded the champion’s Prize.
I shook my head at my own stupidity. I didn’t know what the repercussions would be, only that there were definitely going to be some.
And they were going to be very serious.
“I’ll take you back to the Prize Pool,” I said.
