bully him?” asked the younger guard. “Bully him! Did you ever see that guy work

out in the rec yard?

 

He’s older than me and he’s stronger than the biggest SOB we have in here. And I

think the guy slept like an hour a night. I’d make my rounds at two in the

morning and there he’d be in his cell just staring off or talking to himself and

rubbing the back of his head. Really weird.” He paused. “But when he first came

here a couple of the toughest inmates did try to go alpha on him.” “What

happened?” “Let’s just say they’re not alphas anymore. One ended up paralyzed,

and the other sits in a wheelchair dribbling water down his front, because

Rogers permanently damaged his brain. One blow cracked the guy’s skull. I saw it

with my own eyes.” “How’d he get hold of a weapon in here?” “Weapon? He used his

bare hands.” “Holy shit!” The older guard nodded thoughtfully. “That made his

cred in here.

 

Nobody bothered him after that. Prisoners respect the alpha. You saw how they

all went quiet when he passed by just now. He was a legend in here getting

bigger and badder without lifting a finger. But to his credit, Rogers was an

alpha like I’ve never seen before. And more.” “How do you mean?” The guard

thought about this for a few moments. “When they first brought him here we did

the standard strip search, no orifice overlooked.” “Right.” “Well, Rogers had

scars on him.” “Hell, lots of cons have scars. And tats!” “Not like this. They

were up and down both arms and both legs and on his head and around his torso.

And along his fingers. Ugly shit. And we couldn’t take prints off the guy. I

mean, he didn’t have any! Never seen anything like it before. Hope I never see