I hated to think about what my life in Fulton would be like without her, but I knew it would be worse if she was murdered. Plus, my case had been reopened, and there was always that chance that I’d be released.

I looked up just as Jose and his boys came into the room, and my blood started to boil. My skin felt as if it was melting from my body, and I was being transformed into a completely different kind of monster. One who really could rip limbs from a person because in that moment, it was all I could think about doing.

I pumped my fists and moved to stand from my seat. His eyes clashed with mine, and he lifted a brow as if to tell me to bring it. He had no idea how bad it was going to be for him.

Scoop touched my shoulder, stopping me. “If you’re in the hole, you can’t do anything. Remember that.”

I growled, knowing he was right. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to choke the life from him, feel his heart stop against my fingers. Better yet, I wanted to shove him into the dryer and turn it on the highest setting. I was being accused of killing Carlos; why not actually commit the crime?

My mind spun back to the day I found Carlos in the dryer. I smiled darkly, and the sick desire to see Jose in the same predicament swam in my gut. My stomach churned at the idea, and I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts. I was a lot of things, but a sick fuck wasn’t one of them.

Regardless of popular belief, I wasn’t a killer, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t want to beat him until he was almost dead.

“Anyway, there’s good news, too.”

I scanned his face to see if he was full of shit, but he grinned. “She finally quit.”

And just like that, things felt lighter. Sure, I was going to miss being able to see her every time I went to the infirmary, but at least this way, she was still alive and she was safe.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I nodded.

Skipping breakfast, I spent my time in the yard, staring off into the skyline. Freedom had never been so important to me, but knowing who I had out there waiting for me made it vital. The knowledge that I had a shot at a real life, it was worth more than gold.

I spent the morning alone, and I think even Scoop understood the importance of my solitude since he didn’t speak to me again until we were lining up for lunch.

“Hey, man.” He eyed me, feeling out my mood.

“What now?” I asked, sure that he was bringing me more bad news. “Let me guess, someone died?”

“Actually, yeah, Miguel’s dead. They found him in the hall outside solitary. He’d been choked to death.”

His words moved over me, and strangely, I didn’t feel as happy about it as I thought I would.

“Do they know who did it?”

“Nope, but I bet you can guess who’s getting all the blame.” He shrugged, shoving a still-frozen fry into his mouth.

Me.

Of course they thought it was me. Fuck, it was always me. I’d killed my girlfriend Sarah and her high school friend Michael. I’d killed Carlos, and now, I’d killed Miguel, too. I was fucking lethal apparently. Motherfuckers died just by looking at me.

Fuck them!

“Let them think what they want. Maybe now they won’t fuck with me anymore.”

We ate lunch in silence, and I could feel the eyes of the room drilling me on the top of my head and my back. I fucking hated having so much attention on me, but it came with the territory when everyone in the building thought you were a killer.

LATER, AFTER WORK detail, it was visitation time. Usually, I hung out in the rec room and watched TV, but when the COs called out the names of those who had visitors, this time my name was called.

I looked over at Reeves, sure he’d called the wrong name.

“Are you going to sit there and stare at my ass all day or are you going to get up?”

I stood and lined up with the rest of the guys. In the back of my mind, I knew it was Lyla who was visiting me, but I still hoped it wasn’t. As badly as I wanted to see her, it wasn’t safe for her to visit me. Not to mention, what we had going on was no one else’s business. Her coming to visit me lit up a red light that flashed, We are fucking.

I guessed in a way it didn’t matter since she didn’t work at Fulton anymore, but still, I didn’t want people to think badly of her because she was fucking with an inmate. They didn’t know our story. They didn’t understand us.

The visitation room was all gray. Gray walls. Gray tables. Gray chairs. It was the most depressing place in Fulton, but it was the only place where people really smiled. That was exactly what I did when I stepped into the room and saw Lyla sitting at a table waiting for me.