Fredricks lifts his head, spitting blood onto the floor. “Snitch.”
The word is barely out of his mouth when Zachs moves.
No hesitation. No warning. He plants a boot on the back of Fredricks’ skull.
I hear the impact before I process it. A dull, wet thud.
Fredricks jerks forward, face bouncing off the ground, another spray of red smearing across the concrete.
Jinx lets out a whimper.
“I told you not to look at her.” His voice is quiet, almost bored. “Can I kill him now? I know where he got the booze from.”
Dax laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Not just yet. Toss him in a cell. We have one more to round up. At least.”
Zachs doesn’t argue.
He grabs Fredricks by his shirt, yanking him up like a bag of garbage, and drags him across the floor, leaving smears of blood behind.
He doesn’t just toss him into the first cell, he slams him against the bars first.
Fredricks groans, stumbling forward, crumpling onto the cot like a discarded body.
I should feel nothing.
He’s a monster.
But cells. I hate cells.
They make men into animals, and animals into ghosts.
Fredricks lifts his head, one side of his mouth torn open in a sneer.
He looks at me.
And smiles. A slow, cruel smile, teeth stained red with his own blood.
“You gonna tell him,” his words slur together, but the venom is clear. “After you smashed my face, you took his bitch into a room and…”
I don’t even have time to react.
Zachs is inside the cell in a flash.
Faster than I’ve ever seen him move.
“Bitch?” His voice is a growl.
Then his boot slams into Fredricks’ ribs.
The sound is wet. Cracking.
Fredricks chokes on his next breath, a strangled wheeze as his body folds in on itself.
Jinx loses it. “Oh, oh fuck, oh fuck, man,” His words trip over each other, his fingers digging into his own arms like he’s trying to hold himself together. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” He’s rocking now, his whole body jerking, his breath coming in erratic gasps.
Dax says nothing. He doesn’t move to stop it.
“Bitch?” Zachs drops, straddling Fredricks, bracketing him between his knees.