Lincoln caught up to Simon just as the school gates came into view.
"Yo."
Simon stopped walking.
He turned slowly, already irritated. He had slept badly. Isabella hadn't come to school again. And now this.
Lincoln Valdes stood a few steps behind him, hands in his jacket pockets, blond hair catching the morning light. The small tattoo near his eye made him look calmer than he should've been—like a man who didn't need to raise his voice to be dangerous.
Simon sighed. "I don't have time for this, man. I'm already late."
Lincoln tilted his head. "Won't take long."
Simon turned fully to face him. "Then talk."
Lincoln studied him for a second, eyes sharp but not hostile. "I logged into my old school account last night. Student portal. Archives."
Simon stiffened just a little.
Lincoln continued, casual. "Saw the pictures. The ones that went around. McDonald's. Court. You were there too, right?"
Simon's jaw tightened. "Look, man. I don't know what game you're playing, but—"
"I'm not playing," Lincoln cut in, calm. "I just want to know who posted them."
Simon laughed once, humorless. "You saw the same thing everyone else did. Anonymous."
Lincoln stepped closer. Not threatening. Just enough to make his presence felt.
"Anonymous doesn't mean invisible," he said.
Simon shook his head. "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you."
Lincoln watched him carefully. "Why?"
Simon didn't hesitate. "Because it's not my place. And because whoever did it? They're not worth blowing everything up over."
Lincoln searched his face. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Aight," he said. "Have a great day."
And just like that, he turned and walked away.
Simon stood there for a moment, heart thudding harder than he liked to admit.
Something about that man felt… patient.
Prison lunch was exactly what Theo expected.
Not slow. Not quiet. Just dense.
Sound pressed in from every direction—plastic trays slapped against metal tables, boots scraping concrete, voices raised not in excitement but in dominance. Laughter came sharp and sudden, the kind that wasn't meant to be shared. The air smelled like boiled vegetables, sweat, and something metallic underneath it all, something that reminded Theo of waiting rooms and handcuffs.
He sat across from Jake at one of the long tables bolted to the floor, his tray untouched except for where he'd nudged the food around with the edge of his fork. It looked like a meal in theory. In practice, it was just fuel. Barely.
Jake noticed.
"You're quieter than usual," Jake said, shoveling a mouthful of something unidentifiable into his mouth.
Theo leaned back slightly, eyes scanning the room like he'd learned to do fast. "Saving my sarcasm for emergencies."
Jake snorted. "That'll be the day."
Theo didn't answer. He wasn't really here. Not fully.
Prison had a way of forcing awareness into you. You learned patterns quickly—who sat where, who moved with confidence, who moved like they were trying not to be seen. Power wasn't loud all the time. Sometimes it just took up space.
Theo noticed the clusters first. The older guys near the back wall, thick-necked, relaxed, eating slow. The younger ones closer to the guards, pretending not to watch everything. The ones who moved alone, who'd already been marked as not belonging anywhere yet.
Theo knew which category he was in.
Still new. Still being weighed.
Jake followed his gaze. "Rule number one," he muttered. "Don't stare too long."
Theo smirked faintly. "I'm admiring the décor."
Jake shook his head. "This place eats people like you."
Theo raised an eyebrow. "People with good taste?"
Before Jake could reply, the air changed.
It was subtle. Like the room collectively inhaled.
A shadow fell over their table.
Theo looked up slowly.
The man standing there wasn't just big—he was built like gravity worked harder on him. Broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his uniform, arms thick with old muscle and newer scars. His knuckles were marked, skin split and healed over so many times it looked intentional. His smile came slow and crooked, like he enjoyed the space his presence stole from others.
"Ey," the man said.
His voice was calm. That was the worst part.
"One of you interested in coming to my cell tonight?"
The words landed heavy, ugly in how casual they were. Nearby conversations didn't stop—but they quieted just enough. People listened without looking.
Theo felt Jake stiffen instantly.
Jake stood, chair screeching loudly against the concrete. "Fuck off."
The man's smile twitched, just slightly.
"What did you just say?"
Theo exhaled through his nose. He could feel it—his old instinct kicking in. The part of him that hated bullies. The part that didn't calculate consequences fast enough.
He looked up lazily, like he'd been interrupted mid-thought.
"Oh," Theo said. "You didn't hear him."
Jake shot him a sharp look.
Theo continued, tone almost polite. "He said F. U. C. K. O. F. F."
A few heads turned now.
The big man laughed. Low. Mean. "Both of you got jokes."
Theo met his gaze without blinking. He didn't stand. Didn't posture. He just looked—steady, unafraid, like he'd already accepted whatever came next.
"Only on weekdays," Theo said. "Weekends are reserved for bad decisions."
Jake muttered, "You're really not helping."
The man leaned closer, invading Theo's space. Theo could smell him now—soap and old smoke. His voice dropped.
"You think this is funny?"
Theo tilted his head slightly. "I think you're bored."
That earned him a pause.
The big man studied him more carefully now, eyes narrowing. This wasn't a kid mouthing off. This was someone who didn't flinch. Someone who didn't beg.
"I'll remember that," the man said quietly.
He straightened and walked away, deliberately brushing his shoulder against Theo's as he passed.
Theo didn't move.
Jake sat back down hard, heart clearly still racing. "You got a death wish?"
Theo watched the man disappear into the crowd. "He asked a question. I answered."
Jake shook his head. "This isn't outside. You can't just swing or talk your way out of everything."
Theo's jaw tightened. "Yeah. I noticed."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Jake leaned closer, voice low. "Guys like that don't forget."
Theo finally looked at him. "Neither do I."
Jake studied him, then sighed. "You're different, you know that?"
Theo smirked faintly. "So I've been told."
But as he stared down at his tray again, appetite gone completely, Theo felt it settle in his chest.
Prison wasn't about who was strongest.
It was about who survived long enough to matter.
And for the first time since he'd been locked up, Theo wondered not if he could endure this place—
—but how much of himself he'd have to leave behind to do it.