Page 71 of Psychopath

He nodded. “Yeah.” His voice sounded wrecked, and it hurt to speak, but he pushed through. “I couldn’t get to the button.” He swallowed what felt like a dozen nails, then continued. “Mackie rammed the table at me, pulled it away, then tried to strangle me while I was on the ground. Zane…he got Mackie off me.”

Cleo wrapped her arm over his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. If I’d have known, I never would have left you alone with him.”

Mackie groaned weakly as he came round. He rolled onto his side and spat blood across the floor.

“Come on,” Cleo said, taking hold of Quinn’s elbow. “We need to get you checked out.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your voice and the scratches on your neck say otherwise.” She glanced at Quinn and spoke closer to his ear. “And I think it’s wise to get you out of here before Mackie wakes up fully.”

Cleo helped Quinn to stand, then gathered the papers on the desk.

Quinn gaped at Mackie. His lips were split, and blood spurted from his broken nose. He groaned like a dying animal and clutched his ribs where Zane had kicked him.

“Quinn!” Cleo snapped.

He nodded and followed her out of the room.

“What…what will happen to Zane?”

Cleo glanced back. “They’ll take him to the segregation unit.”

“What?” Quinn winced and rubbed his throat. “He was defending me.”

“I know, but he still beat Mackie unconscious. Now come on. I’m going to radio for the doctor to come check you out in the canteen.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Whether you think it’s necessary or not, Quinn”—she glared at him—“it’s happening.”

Cleo had threatened to drive him to the hospital, and he vehemently refused, agreeing to prodding and poking from the prison doctor instead. Quinn’s throat was sore, and his chest ached from where the table had hit him, but the doctor was confident neither injury was life-threatening. Cleo disagreed beneath her breath, but the doctor didn’t hear and was soon called away to assess Mackie’s injuries.

Quinn touched where his throat stung. Mackie had scratched his nails against Quinn’s skin while trying to grab hold of him, and the cuts burned whenever he turned his head.

Cleo watched him for a few moments, then sighed.

“What?” he asked.

“This was my fault.”

Quinn shook his head. “Of course it wasn’t.”

“I took a detour to your office while taking Mackie back to the wing. I suggested you talk to him. I’ve been on at you for days, telling you how miserable he’s been since he left the study. Mackie’s been off for days, but I didn’t… I didn’t see the danger.” She waved a flippant hand at Quinn. “Then this happens. I told you not to get comfortable here…and it was me who made that very mistake.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Quinn sighed. “I didn’t read the situation quickly enough. I didn’t realise I was in danger, and when I did, I wasn’t quick enough to hit the button.”

“He’s a big guy.”

Quinn nodded. “He is.”

“Thank God for Zane. I don’t know whether I’d have been able to get Mackie off of you that fast. I owe him.”

“I owe him,” Quinn whispered. He looked over to the papers Cleo had stacked on the side.

Cleo followed his gaze. “I kind of ruined your session with him.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Quinn repeated. “I…I don’t suppose—” He stopped himself and shook his head. “You know what, never mind.”

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