Jax could only see a big blur of blue at the door. He squinted and blinked, but couldn’t focus until he wiped the fluid out of his eye. It was the hulk-like guard from the bus – Officer Turner. He seemed even bigger in the confines of the cell.

‘Help?’ Jax asked as he stood. He wanted to trust him. He was alone and desperate. Beaten, bruised and broken. He wanted a saviour. A protector. Even just someone to tell him it would be okay.

‘Yeah, I will,’ Turner said. ‘Tell me who did this and I’ll sort them out.’

Jax shook his head. He didn’t know if this was some sort of test. Didn’t know if this guard was on the take, like Rogers was.

‘Nothing happened,’ Jax said. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Marsh? Just nod if it was.’

Jax wondered if he could trust Turner. No. He had to do more than wonder. He could not let his guard down. Not even for a second. A single slip could get him killed. In here, any sign of empathy had to be treated as a red flag. The way the guard had spoken to Marsh that first day suggested he might be more friend than foe. But then again, the disdain he shown towards Marsh could have been a front, or the result of a dodgy deal gone wrong.

Jax’s gut told him Turner was genuine, but he needed more than that. Prison was like no other place he knew. Every stranger was a potential enemy rather than a potential friend. Turner could easily deliver him straight back to Marsh for more if he squealed.

‘I’m not going to give anyone up,’ Jax said. ‘That’s not my style. I wouldn’t do it outside and I’m not going to do it in here.’

‘Good,’ Turner said. ‘Because dogging will get you killed. Don’t trust anyone. Not even me. But seriously’ – he pointed towards Jax’s dangling arm – ‘you need help.’

‘It’s only dislocated,’ Jax said.

Turner gave him a look that said, ‘And how would you know?’

‘I had medical training in the army,’ Jax shot back. ‘It’s not a big deal.’

‘Well, you can’t leave it like that. You’ll need a doctor to put it back in.’

‘Doesn’t have to be a doctor,’ Jax said. ‘You still want to help?’

Turner nodded, then Jax gave him instructions.

The big guard placed his huge hand on the front of Jax’s injured shoulder. ‘Really? As hard as I can?’ he asked uncertainly.

‘Well, maybe not your hardest,’ Jax replied, taking note of the guard’s bulging bicep. ‘Just— AHHHHHH!’

The one-inch palm punch was delivered without notice. Jax was hurled off his feet and sent flying backwards. He braced for a hard landing but relaxed as he landed on his mattress.

The pain in his shoulder was gone, the relief almost instant.