Page 39 of Auctioned to the Prisoners

I touch her cheek, determination settling in like cement. She’s going nowhere.

Grady’s standing with his arms folded across his chest. In his prime, he would have been a force to be reckoned with, but the years have softened his bulk and loosened his skin. Still, as much as I don’t like his role in my life, he’s not a bad man. One of the few in this place that views us as men, not stray dogs.

I nod at him and wait. His jaw flexes, and his nostrils flare. Whatever’s coming isn’t good news.

“Wilson came down here?”

“Yeah.”

He shakes his head. “That nosy fucker… always sticking his beak into things that don’t concern him.”

“He came to you?” Kinkaid asks.

“He’s trying to blackmail me,” he says gruffly. “Well, he says he isn’t, but he's talking about a promotion like it's a done deal in exchange for keeping the secret.”

“A promotion?” Hyde laughs. “Give that guy more power?”

“I know Wilson.” Grady widens his stance, settling in. His suit jacket bunches around his arms, and his neck bulges over his crisp white shirt, making him look like a man about to explode out of his body. “I know he shouldn’t be in this place, but his father has sway.”

“So you’re going to do it?” I ask. Wilson was hell to deal with before. When we get back to our cells, he’s going to kneel on our backs with a promotion behind him.

“There are options.”

Kinkaid, who was leaning against the wall, straightens. “Options?”

“Lory goes home today.”

“NO.” The word is out of my mouth before I consider what I’m saying. Hyde studies me, his mouth quirking like he’s worked out a secret, and he finds it amusing.

Kinkaid lifts his chin. “We want her to stay.”

Grady rubs his jaw. “Then, you make Wilson understand what’ll happen to him when you get released if he spills the secret.”

“No.” This time, Lory’s voice cuts through the silence, ringing out with determination. “They did that already,” she says. “Repeating it will only put us all in more danger.”

Kinkaid and Hyde stare at her like she’s grown another head. Is she seriously defending us? Thinking about our wellbeing?

“This is your arrangement,” she says to Grady. “I want to get paid. These men deserve their reward. You need to find a way to deal with Wilson.”

Grady eyes the tiny woman he bought at auction with fascination. His mouth twitches. “People don’t often surprise me.”

Kinkaid shakes his head, staring at Lory as she blushes.

“I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn, but these men shouldn’t have to defend their position when you have all the power.”

“Don’t’ be sorry.” Kinkaid’s lips twitch at the corners, and he shakes his head again. “You speak your mind, Lory. And that’s good.”

“You’re the only man who’s ever thought that.” She shrugs as color tints her cheeks. “My last boyfriend used to call me a mouthy bitch.”

“Yeah, well, he was a fucking idiot,” I tell her. “You speak your mind whenever you need to.”

Grady watches us with watery eyes, sharp and calculating beneath his weathered exterior. He misses nothing. It only takes him a single glance to assess a situation, his instincts honed from years of managing this place. That awareness is one of the reasons this prison runs as smoothly as it does. Grady sees the points of friction before they fully form, and while he can’t prevent every conflict, he’s always one step ahead, doing his best to keep the chaos at bay. His presence commands respect, not through intimidation, but through his uncanny ability to read people and act before things spiral out of control.

“Can I check my phone?” Lory asks. She steps forward before he has a chance to leave, maybe worried that Grady will prevent her after her outburst.

He pulls it out of his pocket again. This time, when Lory powers up the phone and taps into her message app, her face falls, and any color she had in her cheeks fades to gray. The hand holding the phone trembles, and her shoulders hitch as she curls forward like she’s been kicked in the gut.

“Lory.” I hold out my hand to cup her elbow, and when she turns to me, fat tears are sliding down her cheeks. “What is it?”

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