All Chapters of Cellblock Heat : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Quincy“Grandpa, it’s been a month since you’ve been on the goddamn seat,” Jordan muttered behind me, his voice the usual mix of sarcasm and steel. The squeak of the wheelchair echoed down the concrete hall as he pushed me toward the cafeteria. “What’s left for me to do is help you wipe your ass when you take a shit. Meanwhile, the fucker that did this to you is still breathing properly, instead of through a tube. Give me a go, pa.”I didn’t even bother rolling my eyes. My reply was the same it had been for thirty straight days.“Leave Malik to me, Jordan,” I muttered, my voice low but firm. “This revenge is mine. I’ll show you how well you’ve taught me.”It was half-promise, half-delusion, and I knew it. My ribs still ached when I sneezed, and I couldn’t get out of bed without feeling like the world was tugging my insides through a meat grinder. But I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of thinking I needed saving. Again.Jordan didn’t argue this time. Didn’t smirk. But the sou

Jordan“Damn, Q,” I drawl, my grin tugging slowly as I lean back against the bunk, watching him. “Look at you. Standing tall like you ain’t been chained to that chair for weeks. All I’m missin’ is a camera and some confetti.”He scowls, his arms shaking as he braces against the wall. “Don’t start with me, Jordan.”“Who, me?” I grab my yo-yo off my bed, drop the watch back, then toss the yo-yo into the air, catch it, and let the string wind tight. “Nah, man. I’m happy you got to earn your reward.”That catches him. His head snaps toward me, blue eyes narrowing. “What is the reward, Jordan?”I push off the bunk, slow, steady, letting my boots drag against the floor just enough to make him hear me coming. “I promised you somethin’ special if you lasted a minute. And you lasted for a minute and thirty seconds before leanin’ on the wall.”His throat works as I close the gap between us. His breaths sharpen as he grips the cinderblock wall to keep himself standing. He knows I’m not talking a

AnabaHe thought I didn’t notice the way he gritted his teeth when I leaned closer, or the flicker of suspicion in his bright blue eyes when I locked the door. But I noticed everything about him. I always had.Quincy Laurent. The golden boy who’d fallen from the clouds and landed in a place that didn’t deserve him. The arrogant patient who glared at me through every round of treatment, who hated the way I checked his pulse or touched his ribs when he was bleeding out. He thought I was nothing but another cog in this system, some stern doctor playing savior with her charts and pills.But I was watching him—always watching him.From the first day he was brought into the infirmary, I saw handsomeness even in his unconscious face. I admired him and nursed him back to health. His skin was pale as death but he still carried himself like he wore a crown. And when he got back to health, I looked forward to the appointed checkups. I kept him long enough to have a little conversation with him.

Quincy I rolled out of the Anaba's office like I was being chased my a fucking ghost. My heart raced so fast. Different colors of stars clustered my blurry visionI’m so lucky to not bump into anyone in my state. My infirmary personnels knew no inmate where supposed to go past the wards, into any other part of the building without a confirmed permit.My wheels hummed low on the tiled floor, and all I could hear was my own heartbeat punching against my ribs.I had just done something insane.Scratch that—something downright revolting.I had my face between Anaba’s thighs for what felt like a lifetime. Bargain fulfilled, favor exchanged. The sound of her quiet muffled moans haunted me. Her taste was still on my tongue, clinging stubbornly no matter how much I swallowed. My lips tingled, my jaw ached, and yet—in all those madness, I couldn't get my dick up. It was numb in my pants. This had nothing to do with the fact that I didn't feel a shit for Anaba as she did me. For all it's wort

Tariq I thought I was adopting an adorable little angel. But Elle's baby turned out to be a two-year-old with lungs like a police siren and a vocabulary sharper than some grown folks. Hell nah. But here I was, struttin’ through the prison visitation hall with Amara skipping beside me like she owned the damn place.If talkin’ was an Olympic sport, this lil’ girl would have gold medals stacked up to the damn ceiling.The guard at the gate gave me that side-eye like, You sure you can handle her? and I wanted to tell him, Hell no, but this is what I had already signed up for, bruh.She's the miniature version of Jordan. Even Elle said so.Amara’s tiny shoes click-click-clicked against the polished floor, every sound louder than my heartbeat. The guards at the desk looked at me funny, like what the hell is he doin’ walkin’ in here with a kid? I just lifted my chin and kept movin’. This wasn’t their business.Amara, though… oh boy. That girl’s mouth been runnin’ nonstop since we got out th