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Chapter 74: Prize of a Snitch
Last Updated:
2025-09-18 22:05:35
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Cellblock Heat Hands Were I can See Them
Jordan I'm in Cellblock B, surrounded by idiots. I've got all the help I need to forget about the preppy, blue-eyed, forged psycho, goodie goodie back in Cellblock B.It's my second time in Cellblock B. I was in here before parole. And of course, there was always a search system when being transferred to a different Cellblock.I’d barely stepped off the damn hallway before Ramos—the rookie tech guard—cracked his knuckles like he’d been waiting all day to get his hands on me. The bastard had a smirk that made my own knuckles itch. “New cell, new start,” he said, circling me like I was some kind of exhibit. “Too bad it comes with the same old inspection, huh, Vex?”“Guess it depends on who’s doing the inspecting,” I muttered, half under my breath.He heard me. He wanted to. “Oh, don’t worry, champ. I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”Bill was present. That's what gives this fucker the kuck he has now. Bill stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the whole damn circus like a bored par
Cellblock Heat Chapter 99: Existential Crisis
Quincy To cut the long story short, Jordan got his new cell—just like Bill promised.And me? I got the short end of the stick.I’m not saying this to sound pathetic, but I thought our sultry little bromance meant something.I mean, it did to me—ever since I realized he wasn’t a total douchebag.Now, the silence hums. The cell’s bigger, emptier—cold concrete and the soft buzz of a flickering bulb for company.The kind of space that eats sound and spits loneliness.The door creaked, the hinges crying out like they hated their job as much as I hated mine.And then she walked in.Dr. Serah Linton.The new therapist. My “assigned emotional mechanic.”She looked way too soft for Cellblock C—like she’d taken a wrong turn from a university hallway and ended up in a haunted basement. She sat on a foldable plastic chair with so much grace as she'd carried.Her brown hair was tied neatly, her blouse too crisp for a place where men forget what clean feels like.The clipboard in her lap looked li
Cellblock Heat Chapter 98: Mercy and Madness
Quincy“If you’re saying this because you feel sorry for me, I need you to stop right there,” I said flatly, burying my head back in the crossword puzzle I wasn’t even solving.A few minutes ago, Jordan had walked in with big news — the kind that would’ve had me flipping tables three months ago. But lately? My excitement was dead on arrival. And yes, ever since that night I got wasted and said a bunch of things I now find cringe, he’s been walking around like some gentle nursemaid trying to fix me.“Believe me, I know exactly what I’d do if I was actually feeling sorry for you,” Jordan said, voice lazy, rough.“Of course you do.”“And it would be something more fun.”My pen froze midair. “Listen,” I said, eyes still glued to the page, “my shithead father — who’s made an Olympic sport out of ignoring me — wouldn’t suddenly turn savior just because he felt like cleaning dirty deeds. The man’s allergic to having a bad name.”“Oh, similar trait, isn’t it?” Jordan waggled his brows, a smir
Cellblock Heat Chapter 97: Lies and Loyalty
JordanIn Bill’s Office.“With all due respect, Bill — cut the crap. My ankle’s doing just fine. How about we digress from that irrelevant topic?”I’m not here for chitchat, especially not when I feel like Ramos was behind the strange footage. My gut tells me so. He should start talking — I need to know if he’s truly a threat.Bill looked up from his paperwork, his spectacles sliding a little down his nose as his eyes flicked up at me — sharp and assessing. The man always had that permanent air of someone who’d seen too much and learned to smile through it.The office smelled like polished wood and coffee that had gone cold hours ago. Sunlight poured through the blinds, casting prison-bar stripes across the floor — poetic, if you asked me.“Always impatient, aren’t you, Vex?” Bill said, leaning back in his chair. “You remind me of me when I was your age.”“Guess that’s why we get along,” I replied, pulling the chair opposite him and dropping into it without an invitation.He sighed, b
Cellblock Heat Chapter 96: Rookie
JordanThe thwack of the tennis ball echoed across the yard. It's sharp, rhythmic, and satisfying. I liked that sound. It was one of the few things in this godforsaken place that didn’t sound like the clicks of cuffs.“Your serve, Vex!” Manny called, tossing the ball up in a smooth arc. His grin split his face wide, sweat glinting on his temples under the harsh afternoon sun.I raised my bat, rolling my shoulders once. “You sure about that? I don’t miss.”“You always miss,” he laughed, squinting against the light. “That arm of yours only works when you’re punching someone.”I snorted, repositioning my grip. “You talk too much, old man.”The ball came flying, fast and spinning. I stepped in, the bat slicing air—clean contact. The ball rocketed back across the court, clipping the far wall before bouncing out of bounds.Manny groaned. “Show-off!”“Skill,” I corrected, grinning. “Don’t hate the player.”We’d been at it for about twenty minutes. The yard was alive. Some inmates are lifting
Cellblock Heat Chapter 96: Seven Shots Deep
JordanSeven shots of gin between us, and Preppy’s got his guard down—leaning into me like I’m the only safe thing left, like the alcohol and his dilemma were hand in hand, chaperoning him straight to his grave.His breath reeks of the cheap burn we downed in the warehouse—the one I smuggled in after the day’s shift. From holding a blade to my throat hours ago to this—the back of his head resting against my neck, mumbling about how unfair the world is.Guess the liquor’s good at peeling back his pretty layers.“Don’t you dare look so smug,” he slurs, voice a mix of accusation and surrender.I chuckle, low in his ear. “I’m not smug. Just… observant.”He laughs—brokenly. The sadness leaking through his laughter vibrates against my chest. When he straightens up to face me, his eyes are glassy—half-drunk, half-lost.“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Jordan.” He shakes his head slowly, tilting it like the movement alone might make sense of things. “Everything’s crashing down on me. I
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