“Rose?”
“What about her?”
Leon had heard the name before.
She was a restless one.
“She’s a genuine madwoman.”
Ashley’s breathing came quick and shallow.
“She’s nothing like Brenda.
Brenda wants profit.
Brenda wants respect.”
“Rose?
Rose enjoys violence.
She enjoys watching people afraid of her.”
“She’s been inside for almost ten years, and she came in for murder.”
“She’s got a few women under her who are just as reckless.
Before Brenda fell, they were the only crew in Block C that dared go head-to-head with her.”
Leon smiled.
“That’s not a bad thing.”
Ashley stared at him.
“Not a bad thing?
She just broke one of our sisters’ arms in the cafeteria.
In front of everyone.”
“Because that girl didn’t say hello when she walked past.”
“She’s slapping your face, Leon!”
“She knows you’re the one backing me.
She’s telling everyone that the person you picked is just a pretty vase , looks good, does nothing.”
“So what?” Leon looked at her.
His eyes were calm in a way that made your skin crawl.
“You want me to handle her for you?
Same as Brenda?”
Ashley had nothing to say.
“Brenda fell, and you took her place.
If Rose falls, are you going to expect me to send the next challenger to the Solitary Confinement Cell too?”
A thin edge of impatience crept into his voice, but he kept going.
“Ashley.
I put you in that position.
Not to make you a mouthpiece.”
“Your standing was never handed to you.
You build it yourself , out of blood and bone.”
Leon’s gaze dropped to her chest, rising and falling hard with agitation.
“If you want everyone to fear you, to respect you, you have to be the one who grinds the challenger’s face into the dirt.
Personally.”
Ashley’s expression shifted through several things at once.
She understood.
But…
“My people aren’t fighters.”
She bit her lip.
Her voice came out small.
“The only ones I actually trust are Maria and Jessica, and they spent their whole lives getting pushed around.
Neither of them has ever thrown a punch.”
“And those fair-weather followers?
Most of them are only siding with me because of you.”
“Honestly?
They’re not really mine.”
Leon looked at her face , drained of color, taut with anxiety.
“They won’t fight for you?”
“Then give them a reason to.”
Ashley opened her mouth to argue.
The words came out before she could stop them.
“What reason?
Money?
Leon, this is a prison.
What exactly do you think I can offer them?”
“Nothing,” Leon said.
Clean.
“Which is why they’re watching.
Waiting.
Seeing where to place their bet.”
“They’re betting on you , not because you can fight, but because I’m standing at your back.”
“But if you turn out to be a dead loss they can’t do anything with, you really think they’d hesitate?
They’d drop you in a second and go lick Rose’s boots.”
He stepped forward, pressing into her space.
“They need a leader, Ashley.”
“Someone who can actually lead them.
Someone who makes them believe there’s a future.
Someone who puts real advantages in their hands.”
“Make them understand that running with you means they eat.”
“Running with Rose means nothing but beatings, and the constant threat of being thrown away when she’s done with you.”
Ashley’s breath came faster.
“I…
what do I do?”
Her voice had a tremor in it now.
Leon smiled.
There it is.
“You need a harder heart than Rose’s.”
“As for weapons…”
His gaze drifted down the corridor, settling on the overlooked corners.
“This prison is full of them.”
He took Ashley by the arm and walked her to the door of a cleaning supply closet.
“See those?”
He pointed to the row of old toothbrushes hanging on the wall.
“Grind one to a point.
You’ve got a dagger that’ll go right through someone’s throat.”
He gestured to the pile of worn sheets and socks in the corner , the kind inmates left behind.
“Pack a bar of soap or a couple of batteries into a sock.
Tie it off.
That’s a weapon that’ll drop someone to their knees.”
“And the edges on those metal cafeteria trays?
Find a stretch of concrete floor and grind them down, stroke by stroke.
They’ll cut sharper than a knife.”
With each one, another shade of color left Ashley’s face.
She’d never looked at any of it that way before.
But standing here, listening to Leon describe it , this prison had just become a warehouse full of weapons.
“I can’t hand you a blade directly.
Too obvious.”
He let go of her arm and stepped back.
“But I can open the door.”
“Tonight, I’ll send Frank — that old creep — to the warehouse for an inventory check.
The utility room door will happen to be left unlocked.”
“Everything you need is in there.”
He looked at her, something faintly amused behind his eyes.
“I’ve given you the method.
I’ve unlocked the armory.
But after that, you’re on your own.”
“Kill her, and Block C is your territory.
All of it.”
He let the offer sit for a moment.
“The daily supply run is coming soon , on top of the emergency stock we’ve already got.”
“Make this place yours.
Take control of the distribution and run it yourself.”
“The ones who follow you get more.
The ones who cross you get nothing.”
“You can make every woman in this block envy you.
Some of them will beg.”
“But first, you have to handle Rose.”
He turned and walked away without another glance, swallowed by the shadows at the end of the corridor.
Her heart was slamming.
She looked down at her hands.
Something cold settled into her eyes.
…
Late that night, Ashley found her only two real allies , Maria and Jessica.
Maria was the sister of the inmate whose arm Rose had broken.
She was curled up in the corner of her bunk, knees pulled to her chest, crying without a sound.
Jessica sat beside her, trying to comfort her with clumsy words, her own eyes swollen and red.
“Crying?”
Ashley’s voice came down over them like a blade.
Both women flinched and looked up, fear plain on their faces.
“Is crying going to fix your sister’s arm?
Is it going to make Rose leave us alone?”
Her voice carried the heat of someone furious at weakness.
“Ashley, we just—” Jessica started.
“Shut up.” Ashley cut her off clean.
“I want to know one thing.
Do you want payback?”
Maria’s crying stopped cold.
Her head came up sharply.
Her eyes were shot through with red , and with something much hotter than grief.
“Yes.
God, yes.
I dream about killing that bitch.”
“Good.”
For the first time, a smile crossed Ashley’s face.
It didn’t make her look warm.
It made her look dangerous.
She scanned the room, then leaned in and dropped her voice.
“We’ve spent our whole lives as mud on the floor.
Stepped on.
Spat on.
Too scared to breathe loud.”
“But right now, tonight, we have a chance.”
“One chance to do the stepping.
To make everyone in this place afraid of us.”
She looked at them , both still trembling, caught between rage and fear.
“You saw what happened to Brenda.”
“Now it’s Rose’s turn.”
“But , but Rose has so many people, and they’re all…” Jessica swallowed.
“They’re insane.”
“Then we have to be worse.”
Ashley grabbed them both off the bunk and pulled them into a corner where no one could see.
She opened her hand.
Lying across her palm were several makeshift daggers , toothbrush handles, ground to a vicious point.
She’d pulled them from the unlocked utility room less than an hour ago.
In the weak, flickering light, those crude little weapons looked ugly and serious all at once.
Maria and Jessica both stopped breathing.
“This time, we don’t play it safe.”
Ashley’s gaze moved from one face to the other.
She spoke each word separately, like she was nailing them in place.
“Either all three of us get carried to the infirmary together, or Rose and every one of her mad dogs disappear from Block C.
For good.”
She pressed one of the toothbrush daggers into Maria’s hand.
Maria’s whole body jolted.
“Hold onto it.
Tomorrow at lunch, you’re coming with me.” Ashley’s voice dropped to almost nothing.
“And we’re going to put these through their throats.”
She looked at the two pale, terrified faces in front of her.
“Dare you?”
➤ Next: Conflict