Prologue
March 2015
The alarms at Federal Medical Center, Carswell screamed through concrete corridors, sharp and relentless. Steel doors slammed open. Guards shouted orders. Somewhere down the unit, someone was already bleeding.
I stayed seated on my thin mattress, back against the wall, breathing slow and controlled.
My bail hearing was days away. I wasn’t about to ruin it.
The riot had started the same way most things did inside Carswell — gang territory, ego, and bad decisions. It was already spiraling. I tilted my head, eyes drifting to my open cell door, and sighed.
Why did everything always have to escalate?
Movement caught my attention.
The inmate from two cells down stood just outside my door. Massive shoulders. Prison tattoos. The kind of woman Carswell was designed to bury. We’d never gotten along, and she’d been waiting for an excuse.
She cracked her knuckles and stared me down.
I stood slowly, rolling tension from my shoulders. I didn’t want this — but I wasn’t going to back down either.
“Guarda, non voglio problemi.”
Look, I don’t want trouble.
Italian slipped out instinctively as she lunged, fist grabbing my shirt. I glanced past her shoulder and locked eyes with my favorite guard.
He shook his head once.
A warning.
She hesitated — just long enough.
Then the punch landed.
The impact sent me crashing back onto the bed, air ripped from my lungs. That was it.
I stood, wiped blood from my lip, and swung.
Thirty Minutes Later
I was shoved back into my cell as three guards hauled her past me on a stretcher. Unconscious. Restrained. Furious even in defeat.
The head guard stopped at my door, eyes cold.
“Your bail is denied.”
I shot to my feet. “She attacked me. I didn’t throw the first punch.”
He smiled — slow and cruel. “We know. But the judge won’t care.”
I grabbed his uniform and pulled him flush against the bars. His breath hitched.
“We’ll see.”
Before anyone noticed, I released him and smoothed his collar.
“You have a nice day, officer.”
