CHAPTER 3

The heavy iron door slammed shut, and the deafening screech of the lock dropped like an axe.

I hit the thin mattress hard, my chest heaving, the skin on the back of my neck still burning where Kael’s hot, calloused fingers had gripped me in the yard. His low, filthy promise echoed in the quiet cell: I want every piece of you.

I hated how my body reacted to it. I was terrified, trapped, framed for a crime I didn't commit—and yet a hot, shameful coil of arousal burned low in my belly every time I pictured those storm-gray eyes dragging over my body.

A heavy metal boot kicked the bottom bar of my cell door.

I jerked upright. Officer Graves stood outside, his face dark with rage, keys clanking in his hand. The guards down the tier conveniently looked the other way.

“Unlock three!” Graves barked into his radio.

The heavy lock clicked. Graves stepped inside, slamming the heavy iron door shut behind him.

Panic spiked white-hot in my throat. “What are you doing?”

Graves didn't answer. He closed the distance in one stride, his heavy hand flying out and backhanding me across the face. Pain exploded in my cheekbone. Blood burst from my lip, metallic and hot, as I crashed onto the lower bunk.

Before I could scramble back, Graves leaned down, his heavy knee pinning my legs to the mattress. He grabbed the front of my orange jumpsuit, ripping the fabric open down to my chest. His fingers were cold, rough, and filthy as he shoved his palm flat against my bare skin, dragging it hard down over my stomach.

“You think Vance can shield you in here, Hart?” Graves sneered, his breath reeking of stale tobacco as his thumb dug violently into my hip bone. “He doesn't run my cell block. You're going to hand over those financial numbers, or I’m going to strip you naked, take what I want right now, and leave the cell door wide open for the rest of the tier.”

“Get off me!” I choked out, shoving against his broad chest with both hands.

Graves grinned, a dark, sickening look. He leaned his heavy weight onto my chest, crushing the air out of my lungs, and brought his hand lower, gripping my thigh with enough force to bruise. “Fight all you want, pretty boy. It just makes it better.”

A sudden, sharp crack of metal on iron vibrated through the cell walls.

“Step away from the door, Graves.”

The voice was ice-cold, smooth, and laced with absolute lethargy that hid a razor blade.

Graves froze. He slowly turned his head.

Kael Vance stood in the open doorway of the cell. He had bypassed the tier lock. In his right hand, he held a heavy iron wrench, stained with grease, dangling lazily at his side. He didn't look angry; he looked lethal.

“Vance,” Graves growled, though his voice cracked at the edges. His hand stayed clamped on my torn jumpsuit. “You’re out of your cell during count. Get back to your tier before I call a lockdown.”

Kael took one step into the cell. The air instantly went thin.

“I told you once,” Kael said, his storm-gray eyes dropping to Graves’ hand on my bare chest, then rising back to the officer's throat. “Touch him again, and you lose the hand.”

Graves stood up fast, reaching for his heavy leather holster. “You threatening an officer—?”

Kael moved like lightning.

Before Graves could unholster his baton, Kael closed the distance, grabbed Graves by the throat with his bare hand, and slammed him face-first into the concrete wall. A sickening crunch echoed through the small room as Graves’ nose broke against the stone. Blood sprayed across the whitewash.

Graves dropped his baton, groaning in agony as Kael held him pinned with one hand, pressing the iron wrench directly under the officer's ear.

“You’re going to walk out of this cell,” Kael growled softly in Graves’ ear. “You’re going to log this lock as a mechanical error. And if you ever put a finger on his skin again, I won't just stop your payoff trucks—I'll bury you under the boiler room.”

Graves gasped for air, blood pouring down his mouth. “He’s... he’s mine to inspect...”

Kael shoved the wrench harder into his neck until Graves whimpered. “He’s mine. Period. Now get the fuck out.”

Kael released him. Graves stumbled back, clutching his face, his eyes wide with pure terror. He didn't say another word. He grabbed his dropped baton and scrambled out into the corridor, locking the heavy tier door behind him as he fled down the hall.

Silence slammed back into the cell.

My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My chest rose and fell rapidly, the torn orange fabric exposing my pale skin, my lip bleeding, my legs trembling from the adrenaline rush.

Kael turned around slowly. He dropped the iron wrench onto the floor with a dull *thud*.

He didn't leave.

His gray eyes locked onto mine, burning with a dark, raw heat that made my skin flush instantly. He stepped toward the bunk. The small cell suddenly felt microscopic.

“You’re bleeding,” Kael murmured, his voice low, rough, and vibrating through the quiet room.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress beside me. The mattress dipped under his massive weight. I tried to pull back against the wall, but his heavy hand reached out, catching my chin in an unyielding grip. His calloused fingers held me still, forcing my face up to meet his.

His thumb brushed gently across my lower lip, wiping away the warm trickle of blood. The contrast between his violent defense seconds ago and the rough tenderness of his touch now made a shiver run straight down my spine.

“I told you to stay close,” Kael whispered, his eyes dropping to my mouth, then sliding down to my bare chest where Graves had torn the jumpsuit.

His gaze darkened. A heavy, possessive hunger flared in his eyes—naked, uninhibited, and completely dangerous.

“Kael...” My voice was barely a breath. My hands rested against the mattress, trembling, but I didn't push him away. I couldn't.

He leaned in closer, his hot breath brushing against my cheek, smelling of cold steel and sharp soap. His free hand slid over my torn collar, his broad palm pressing warm against my collarbone, sliding down slowly over my bare chest.

Electric heat exploded everywhere his skin touched mine. A betraying gasp escaped my throat. My body traitorously reacted, a heavy, intense throb aching between my thighs as his heavy weight crowded me against the concrete wall.

“You think I protected you for free, Hart?” Kael growled softly against my jaw, his teeth lightly grazing the sensitive skin below my ear. His hand slid down my stomach, gripping my hip with a possessive, heavy squeeze that held me completely pinned. “You’re in my cage now. You belong to me.”

His mouth pressed hard against mine—rough, dominant, and demanding. The taste of my own blood mixed with the heat of his tongue as he claimed my mouth, taking control before I could even draw breath.

I choked out a quiet sigh, my fingers instinctively digging into the coarse fabric of his jumpsuit, pulling him closer even as every warning bell in my head screamed that I was handing my life over to a monster.

When he finally pulled back, his storm-gray eyes were pitch-black in the dim blue light of the cell.

“Graves won't touch you again,” Kael breathed, his heavy hand resting possessively over my heart, feeling it hammer against his palm. “But tomorrow, the real war starts. Don't slip up.”

He stood, grabbing his wrench off the floor, and stepped back into the shadows of the corridor before the night guard rounds began.

I lay back on the mattress, my lips burning, my body hot, trembling, and utterly marked. The prison was a nightmare, Graves was waiting in the shadows, but as the tier lights went completely black, I knew the most dangerous thing in this hellhole was the man who had just taken my mouth.