Page 37 of Claim

By the time free flow started, I was calm.

Too calm.

Men clustered by the tables near the cells, doors open, laughter sharp and ugly. I scanned once. Found him. Ghost stood by his door, easy, careless. Undisturbed.

I set off.

Jaw clenched. Eyes down. I curled my hand around the shape at my hip and stayed there. Not drawing it. Acknowledging it. No, I wasn’t gonna kill him. That wasn’t the point. It never was. Never had to be. This was a threat. That was who I’d always been. I never needed to do the damage I claimed I could inflict. I needed them to believe I could. That belief had kept me breathing on the streets. I needed it back now.

Whispers rippled as I passed. Heads turned. No one stepped in.

Men don’t stop men in here.

This was entertainment.

So I had a clear run.

Every step closed off any rationality behind me. Every step made turning back less possible. And when I reached his door, my hand shook, adrenaline punching through the calm. Ghost turned, and his eyes widened.

I could do it.

Right now. A slice. A warning cut. Somewhere that would bleed and be remembered. I could fucking do it.

“Slade!” Dent’s voice cracked across the wing.

I froze.

An inch from Ghost. Close enough to smell him.

“You,” Dent barked, marching closer. “Move.”

For a second, the world balanced on a snapped toothbrush and a chiselled plastic knife.

I could still do it.

Still choose blood.

Instead, I slipped the weapon back into hiding, turned slowly, and stepped away.

Dent reached me. “Hands.”

I brought my wrists together in front of me. The cuffs clicked shut, cold and familiar. Dent didn’t look at me as he turned me back around, and that left me facing Ghost again. I held his stare. Let him see it. Understand exactly how close he’d come. He’d clocked the shank. He knew what was waiting for him.

That was enough.

For now.

“Move.” Dent shoved me forward.

I didn’t break eye contact with Ghost until the angle of the corridor made it impossible.

“Thought I told you to learn when to walk away,” Dent muttered as we moved.

“I learnt.” I sniffed. “That time ain’t now.”

“You’ve been in here less than three months. Thought it’d take you longer to fall into those traps.”

I glanced back at him. “You don’t even know me.”