Page 4 of Gripp

That and he didn't want to get too close to any of the other inmates. Sure, they were nice enough, but that didn't matter. There was no loyalty here, and anyone would throw him under the bus for an extra glass of water. He wasn't going to risk anything.

He kept his distance from the shady crowd and gave himself only so many hours with everyone else. He preferred to stay by himself, but not so much where it was noticeable.

Today, Gripp decided to stay in his cell until he had to work. It gave him time to think about how to crack himself out of the Supermax.

The sudden footsteps stopping at his door forced his gaze up. Ryan, another inmate, smiled at him.

"Hey, you not coming out today?"

He shook his head. "No, I have to work soon. I figured I'd rest up instead. Still tired from yesterday."

It was half true. He'd been working for about a week now, and going from not doing a damn thing to suddenly working was tiring.

The man frowned. "Sad, the guys were about to start a round of cards. Could have won yourself an extra hour of shower time."

He snorted. He didn't need it. Everyone knew what he was in for, and everyone knew not to fuck with him. He wasn't invincible, but people were wary. In turn, they were nicer to him.

"You enjoy," he said, giving him a smirk. "Maybe tomorrow I'll join. Watch John, though. He likes to cheat."

The man waved at him as he kept walking. But he wasn't alone long before a guard stopped at his door. He realized it was time for him to head to work.

This was the only time he got out of the Supermax, and he was doing something worth his time. He had always been someone who preferred to be busy. It allowed him to escape his mind.

Several forest fires had been erupting in the surrounding areas, and there weren't enough fighters to keep the blazes contained. He was put to work helping with the fire detail. They might have mentioned he would get something out of it if he did a respectable job.

He had no problem working. It gave him fresh air and time to work his muscles from being cooped up inside all day. That and the idea of getting something out of it did pique his interest.

The guard transferred him outside, where a car waited to take him to the site. It was about a half-hour drive before he could see the smoke. The way the fire licked up the trees like they were a meal seemed surreal.

He was put to work as soon as they stopped. He was free from his shackles, but two guards stood a distance away with guns at the ready. Someone handed him a shovel, pointing toward the area they wanted him to dig a trench.

He started the manual labor, feeling the eyes and the guns pointed at him at all times. He always thought it was a waste of manpower. Why pull him out of prison only for them to place two people on him? Why not leave him in and put them to work?

The answer to that was easy … he was worth four guys in manpower. That was why they put him to work. He was quiet and valuable to the firefighters. He also didn't argue. He was a soldier and did what he was told.

He dug quicker than everyone, and he chopped at trees with more strength than the humans. He did what he had to do, to have a good reputation in hopes of getting out sooner.

Gripp shook his head and tried to focus. He kept digging, doing what he was ordered to do. He dug. He cut. He threw barrels of water onto small patches of burning grass. He ran and hauled his ass around.

He dripped in sweat and overheated quickly, but he would rather be there than in the prison cell. Anything was better than being behind bars.

He had thought of running away, but there was no point. The guns were always pointed at him, even when he was moving around. Even if he could outrun them, he had a more pressing issue.

A chip in his neck kept him from shifting. He felt he had lost who he was without being able to shift. Why run when he couldn't shift?

He worked for what seemed like hours, and everyone was exhausted. He shoved his shovel hard into the ground, leaning on it for a second to catch his breath.

"We are done here," a firefighter said, looking at the guards. "You're good to take him. We would like him again tomorrow farther up north."

He rolled his shoulders and turned to look at the guards. He knew the drill. The two would handcuff him and take him back to the prison. He would shower, have his dinner, and pass out on his bed.

However, there weren't two men waiting for him. Four men pointed rifles at him, with a fifth holding a set of shackles, seconds away from crapping himself.

"Don't cause trouble," one of them said, narrowing his eyes. "We’re taking you somewhere else tonight."

He ignored the guy talking, looking at the fifth one walking toward him. He smelled the nervousness pouring off the man and couldn't help but laugh.

He honestly terrified them. But he understood the reason. He was a shifter, and he could snap them all in half if he wanted. These shackles, though, were clearly made for those like him. They zapped his strength, and Gripp watched everyone relax as they snapped around his wrists, taking away the last bit of shifter power he had.

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