Page 134 of Ruined Vows

A quick glance over my shoulder lets me know the group is right on my heels. Well, as on my heels as guys not as toned and in shape as me can be. There is one fast guy, though. He looks like a runner, but while he might catch up, he’s too scrawny to really be much of a threat.

Beside the guard gate is a faction of guys who clearly sit all together because they’re one of the many gangs that regroup on the inside. I saw similar dynamics in a couple of the homes I stayed in.

Well, fuck.

I only see one option ahead, and it’s not gonna be pretty.

Because I’m betting the guys chasing me are part of another gang.

I slow down so they’re almost on my heels. The runner catches up to me first, and I armbar him, sending him flying to the ground.

Some pissed off yells come from behind me.

“We’re gonna fuck you up!”

“You can’t run forever, you little bitch!”

They’re right about one thing. I can’t run forever.

But we’re almost across the yard, and I see the guard’s eyes widen in real fear now that a gang full of inmates is stampeding toward him. He grabs his radio off his belt and starts shouting into it.

Everyone in the yard is watching now, ready for my blood. But mine isn’t gonna be the first blood spilled today.

I run straight into the middle of the other gang, zero in on the biggest motherfucker in the group sitting near the back, and smash him in the face with my fist.

Everyone roars and converges on me in the next second. I try to stay upright but can only manage long enough to see the gang rushing the field to chase me clash with the one I ran into. Just as I’d hoped.

Then I’m taken down in a halo of furious fists and kicking feet.

Pain explodes everywhere at once, and I grunt as my body absorbs each blow.

I put my thick arms above my head to protect my skull, even though it means exposing my ribs.

“Fuck!” I roar as one especially brutal kick definitely breaks some ribs. My chest screams with pain the next time I try to suck in a breath. I’ve got to get the fuck out of the center of the violence.

Because just like I hoped, when the two gangs met, it turned into an all-out street brawl. Chaotic. This isn’t my first tango. I start army crawling in between people’s feet. If there’s one thing I know about a brawl, it’s that folks are genuinely too distracted by the next fist coming at their face to keep track of some random guy at their feet.

“Don’t let him get away!” someone shouts.

Fuck. Unless I’m not just some random guy. Did they have orders to target me?

A riot alarm sounds throughout the jail. Thank fuck. Now if I can just stay in one piece long enough for the rescue parade to get here.

I see prisoners start to line up, facing the fence with their hands behind their head. Must be protocol.

Fuck, as much as I hate bureaucracies, sometimes I do love protocol. Especially when it could mean saving me from the worst of this beatdown.

I haul myself to my feet, each breath a knife to the lungs. All in all, though, I haven’t made off too badly. Just a little farther.

I’m about to make a break for the fence when suddenly, I’m grabbed from behind and flung into the mud.

At first, I can only groan, but then I look up with bleary vision into the furious face of the man I first punched.

“Oh shit.”

There’s not even time before he’s raining down blows. I lose consciousness the fifth or sixth time he smashes into my jaw with his heavy fist.

FIFTY-THREE

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