Chapter 23: Flames and Shadows
***Sev’s point of view***
The clang of metal against metal echoes through the weight yard as I push the barbell up one more time, feeling the satisfying burn in my muscles. Sweat drips down my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I relish the pain. It's a distraction, a momentary escape from the monotony and tension that fills every corner of this godforsaken place.
"That's enough for today, boss," Nikolai says, stepping forward to spot me as I rack the weight. He's a loyal one, Nik. Been by my side since we were kids running wild on the streets of Moscow. Now we're here, caged like animals, but still holding onto that thin thread of control.
I sit up, wiping the sweat from my face with a towel. Around us, the rest of the Sevens are finishing up their routines, their eyes constantly scanning the yard for any signs of trouble. It's a necessary habit here. One moment of inattention can cost you everything.
"Any news?" I ask, taking a swig from my water bottle.
Nik shakes his head. "Quiet so far. The Bloods are keeping to themselves, but I don't trust it. Feels like the calm before the storm."
I grunt in acknowledgment, my eyes drifting across the yard. He's right. It's too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. I've learned to trust that feeling. It's kept me alive this long.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of something—or rather, someone—that makes my heart skip a beat.
She's here.
Professor Liberty Lockwood, moving through the yard with an air of determination and a hint of nervousness. Even in this hellhole, she carries herself with a grace that's hard to ignore. Her hair is pulled back neatly, but a few rebellious strands frame her face, catching the sunlight and making them glow like threads of gold.
I watch as she walks, clutching her notepad, her eyes flicking around, trying to take everything in while pretending she's not affected by the stares and whispers that follow her. Admirable, really. Most people in her position would be quaking in their boots.
"Looks like the good professor is doing her rounds," Nik comments, following my gaze.
"Seems so," I reply, trying to sound casual, but I can feel my pulse quicken. I shouldn't be this interested. It's dangerous—for both of us.
But there's something about her. Something that draws me in, despite my better judgment.
"Think she's here to study us or judge us?" Nik asks, smirking.
"Maybe a bit of both," I say, standing up and stretching my arms over my head. "But who knows? Maybe she's different."
Nik raises an eyebrow but doesn't press further. He knows better than to question me when I get like this.
As Liberty moves closer, I notice the way her eyes dart around, taking in every detail. She's observant, I'll give her that. Smart, too. I can see it in the way she holds herself, the way she watches. Not just looking, but truly seeing.
But being smart doesn't always keep you safe in here.
I notice a group of inmates lounging nearby, their eyes following her with a predatory glint that sets my teeth on edge. One in particular, a scrawny, rat-faced bastard named Miller, seems especially interested. I don't like the way he's looking at her, like she's a piece of meat thrown into a den of wolves.
"Keep an eye on Miller," I tell Nik, nodding subtly in his direction.
Nik's eyes harden as he follows my gaze. "Want me to take care of it?"
"Not yet," I say, my voice low. "But be ready."
We continue to watch as Liberty stops to jot something down in her notepad, oblivious to the danger lurking just a few feet away. Miller nudges one of his buddies, muttering something that makes them both laugh. My fists clench at my sides. Idiots. They don't know who they're messing with.
"She's too close," Nik says, his voice tense.
"I know," I mutter, already moving before I can think better of it.
I stride across the yard, my eyes locked on Miller, daring him to make a move. The crowd parts around me, inmates stepping back as they sense the brewing storm. I can feel the energy shift, tension coiling tight like a spring ready to snap.
Just as I near them, Miller makes his move. He reaches out, grabbing Liberty's arm with a grin that's all teeth and malice.
"Well, what do we have here?" he sneers, pulling her closer. "A little lost lamb wandering into the wolf's den?"
Her eyes widen in shock, fear flashing across her face as she tries to pull away. But Miller's grip tightens, and his buddies snicker, enjoying the show.
Rage floods my veins, hot and blinding. Before I know it, my hand is around Miller's throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him against the nearest wall. The impact reverberates through my arm, but I barely feel it. All I can see is red.
"Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" I growl, my voice dripping with venom.
Miller's eyes bulge as he struggles to breathe, his hands clawing at mine in desperation. The yard has gone deathly silent, all eyes on us as the scene unfolds.
"Sev," Liberty's voice cuts through the haze of anger, soft but steady. "Let him go."
I glance over at her, noting the way she holds herself—scared but not broken. There's a fire in her eyes that demands attention, that commands respect. It cools some of the fury boiling inside me, but not all.
"Apologize," I demand, tightening my grip just enough to make Miller's face turn an alarming shade of purple.
"S-sorry," he croaks, his voice barely audible.
"Not to me," I snap, jerking my head toward Liberty.
He turns his gaze to her, eyes filled with fear. "I'm sorry," he wheezes.
I hold him there for a moment longer, letting the lesson sink in, before releasing him. He collapses to the ground, gasping for air and scrambling away as fast as his legs can carry him. His buddies follow suit, not daring to look back.