The clang of metal echoed across the dim prison gym, that hollow, cavernous sound that always made my skin crawl. It was late—too late for anyone to be in there unless they were looking for trouble. The guards didn’t bother patrolling this side of the yard after dark. They knew the routine: the weights were old, the benches rusted, and only idiots or predators hung around after hours.
I guess that made me an i***t. Stress keeps you up. Meth ghosts keep you up longer.
I was wiping sweat off my forehead when a hard shoulder slammed into me, nearly knocking the barbell from my hands.
“Watch it,” a voice snarled.
I stiffened.
Tanner.
I didn’t have to look to know it was him. The air around him always felt colder, like he dragged winter in on his breath. He towered over me—lean, defined,
