Conversations stilled. Heads turned. It wasn’t so much the words Alvarado chose; it was the tone in his voice and the fact that he and Mason Burke were having words at all.

“Take it easy, Marques,” Mason said. “You got your little toy back. What else are you looking for?”

“What am I looking for?” Alvarado smirked. Cracked his knuckles. “Well, shit, hillbilly, an apology would be nice.”

This was where Lucy drew her line, apparently. She tensed beside Mason, let out a long, low growl in Alvarado’s direction, and when Mason looked down at her in surprise, he saw that her hackles were raised, and she was staring at the banger with menace in her eyes.

“Hell, even the dog wants some,” Alvarado said. “This is going to be fun.”

Lucy’s back was up like Mason had never seen before, and worse, Alvarado had the gleam in his eye Mason had seen in other prisoners, men who didn’t care anymore, who’d given up any dream of a new life outside and had settled for causing mayhem wherever they could, with whomever they could, inside the prison walls. Mason knew Alvarado would enjoy what was coming; he knew, also, there was no way to escape it. Hell, he just hoped Lucy survived.

She has your back, he thought. It’s too bad it’s going to cost you both.

Then Bridges Colson stepped in.

“The fuck are y’all doing?” he asked, looking hard at Mason and at Alvarado and Trammel in turn. “You boys figuring to start a dogfighting ring up in here?”

Mason said nothing. Neither did the other men; they were hard guys, but Bridges Colson was harder, and he had numbers at his back, out in general population. Nobody took up against Colson and enjoyed the experience.

“You all got a week before these dogs are graduated,” the big man was saying. “Less than a week. And you want to risk all of that over some petty shit, really? You want to fuck up these dogs’ lives over a goddamn little chew toy?”

He looked at Mason again, as if expecting an argument, like Mason was going to tell him it was more than a chew toy; it symbolized something.

But it didn’t, of course.

“You two,” Colson said, addressing Alvarado and Trammel. “You all got your little tire back, so quit being bitches. Go on off and play with your dogs and don’t start shit no more, understand?”

The men said nothing, but their posture spoke for them. They were beaten without even throwing a punch; Bridges was the alpha dog here.

“And you, Burke,” Colson said. “You seen how this dog was, the first day she got here. You seen how she changed since she’s been here. You going to throw that away?”

Mason shook his head. “I’m not looking for trouble.”