The Inmate’s Angel

#4. Training

The heavy clang of the cell door echoed through the corridor, and Duncan stepped out. His presence was magnetic, and yet it carried a weight that made everyone else shrink back instinctively. He was huge, tall, and bulky, his broad shoulders filling the narrow space, arms lined with tattoos that ran from wrists to shoulders, inked stories of battles fought and victories claimed. Every step he took demanded attention, and every man in the corridor instinctively made room. No one wanted to get close. No one dared challenge him. Absolutely no one.

Matthew sprinted to keep pace with him, careful to match Duncan’s long strides. He was the only one who could walk beside him without fear, the only one who could breach the invisible bubble of intimidation that followed Duncan like a shadow.

“Duncan, you could have been a free man today,” Matthew said, his voice carrying both frustration and concern.

Duncan shrugged, a movement so rough and casual it barely registered as human effort. “I know,” he said, voice low, rough and almost dismissive.

Matthew shook his head, letting out a long sigh. “Sometimes I don’t understand you, Duncan,” he muttered, almost to himself, almost as a warning.

Duncan’s eyes flicked toward him sharply. There was no answer in the glance, no explanation, only the quiet intensity that made Matthew’s chest tighten. He said nothing further, letting the silence stretch as they continued down the corridor.

The prison yard opened up ahead, sunlight harsh on the concrete, the smell of sweat, dust and tension hanging in the air. Today was training day, a day that brought both male and female prisoners together, a volatile mix of opportunity and danger. Duncan’s gaze swept over the field, slow and almost predatory. He scanned the crowd carefully.

He didn’t see her.

Matthew, sensing the fixity of his gaze, asked quietly, “Looking for someone?”

Duncan’s eyes locked onto him, a dangerous look that silenced Matthew instantly. The question went unanswered. The weight of Duncan’s stare was enough to shut down conversation before it began.

Then he saw her.

Black hair falling around her shoulders, prison uniform hanging loosely over her small frame. She moved with hesitant steps, two other girls accompanying her. Neither of them looked threatening, they were small, cautious and tentative in a way that spoke of fear and unfamiliarity.

Duncan observed quietly, noting how the male prisoners’ gazes fell on her immediately. Whispered comments, leering looks and careless shoves, they all recognized beauty, even in a place like this. And this girl had it in spades.

One inmate, tall and broad with a crooked grin that carried arrogance approached her. Duncan’s eyes followed every movement with cold calculation. He watched her face tense, a small frown of worry and fear flickering across her features. Her two companions stepped in front of her, shielding her as best they could, but the male inmate’s confidence was unshakable. He pushed them aside with ease, hands forceful.

Duncan didn’t move still. He simply observed. The inmate reached for the girl’s chin, tilting her head roughly, whispering something Duncan didn’t need to hear. Then, as if crossing some invisible line, he grabbed her hand and yanked her toward him.

He shouldn’t care. He knew that. Caring was a weakness he’d buried long ago. Still, something inside him tightened, coiled and restless.

His mouth twitched, a near expression he crushed before it could form. He chose not to interfere.

“That girl looks new,” Matthew said beside him, curious.

Duncan didn’t respond. His silence was heavy. He turned away instead, boots crunching against the dirt as he walked toward the end of the field, shoulders set like stone.

Matthew followed anyway, falling into step without invitation. “Can you quit following me around?” Duncan said roughly, not slowing.

Matthew snickered. “I wish. But I Can’t. You’re my protector in this prison.”

“Then you’re weak. Too weak,” Duncan replied, stopping at the edge of the field.

When he turned back, his gaze searched without hesitation. It found her.

She was staring at him.

Wide eyed. And unflinching. As if she’d been pulled toward him by instinct.

Duncan froze.

No one stared at him like that. Not ever. Men looked away and women do the same. But her gaze held, searching and unguarded in a way that struck too close. Something in his chest shifted, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

“Does she have a death wish?” Matthew muttered.

Duncan didn’t answer. He locked his gaze on her, unyielding, until heat climbed her cheeks. She flushed crimson and finally looked away, lashes dropping like a curtain.

“Did I just witness attraction at first sight?” Matthew said, feigning a gasp. “The damsel in distress blushed.”

Duncan rolled his eyes, jaw tightening. Matthew was dramatic as hell.

The whistle blew loudly. Training time.

Duncan stood, muscles rolling under his skin as he rose. men pairing off with each other, bodies angled away from Duncan instinctively. Training meant partners. Partners meant winners and losers. Everyone knew the outcome where Duncan was concerned.

No one came near him.

Of course they didn’t.

“Duncan, I’m sorry, but I won’t be pairing with you,” Matthew said quickly, already backing away. He jogged off to find someone closer to his size.

Duncan sat back on the bench, elbows resting on his knees, watching without interest. The policemen didn’t question it. They never did because they knew better.

His gaze drifted again to the female.

A woman nearly three times her size had cornered her now for a pair up, presence looming. Duncan watched silently, expression unreadable, something dark and knowing settling behind his eyes.

“You’re about to be finished, Bambi,” he said silently.