The victim followed the shiv to the ground, collapsing to his knees and grasping at his neck.

‘JOHNSON!’ Jax yelled as he rushed to the young man’s side. ‘Help! Over here.’

Jax started jamming his fingers into the holes in a desperate attempt to stop the blood, first in the man’s neck, then his torso. But he soon ran out of fingers, and Johnson bled out on the concrete and almost silently passed away.

Johnson had arrived at Goulburn only the day before. He’d told Jax he had been transferred to Goulburn for his own protection. So much for that.

OFFICIALLY, Jax had been sent to Goulburn for his own protection too. Officially, he had been moved to the prison, three hours from Sydney, to get him away from the bikies, with word getting around that he’d been responsible for the cell bombing. While he refused to go into full protective custody, he did agree to be moved to Goulburn and be housed in a wing away from the majority of the white Australian inmates. He made no objection when the prison authorities told him of their plan to move him to A-Block, the ‘Lebo’ block, filled mostly with men with a Middle Eastern background. They even made it sound like it was their plan, whereas Jax knew that Clarke had simply cloned the Minister for Corrections’ email account and issued the order electronically.

JAX didn’t even bother putting the towel around his waist, simply flung it over his shoulder and left the shower cubicle. He didn’t care who saw him naked. He didn’t care what they thought or what they might do.

Two inmates walked into the shower room together, jostling and play-pushing.

‘Fuck you, bra,’ the big untattooed one said to his smaller mate, his heavy layer of fat only partially concealing the hard-earned muscles slumbering beneath. ‘I’d never fuck a trannie. Except your Mum . . . I’d fuck her again.’

The little fella, whose face tattoos and mullet were fighting it out in the battle of the bogan, didn’t get a chance to respond.

‘You think that’s funny, cunt?’ the big man shouted at Jax. ‘You think his mum’s a slut?’

Jax responded with a stare, locking eyes with the loudmouth and not breaking step. He walked straight towards the question, his answer about to become apparent. Nowadays, Jax no longer looked at the ground, but always up, at whatever was coming.

‘Well . . .’ came the backdown. ‘Don’t do it. Bitch gave me herpes. Lucky you can’t catch it twice, ha?’

Jax said nothing, as the pair parted to let him through.

‘Whatcha doing, cuz?’ the smaller prisoner whispered to his mate after Jax had walked by. ‘You know who that is? Fuck, bra. You coulda got us killed.’

Jax was happy he hadn’t had to fight – he had seen enough blood today.