“Wrangler, I want Eugene back,” I say, cracking my neck. “What is he? Your emotional support rooster?” Ruben is serious as he says it, but his grey eyes are glittering over his full beard as he towers over me and everyone else in the room. It’s why they used him to referee my matches when I was a teenager. “Something like that.” I roll my shoulders and try not to laugh at the fully covered guards. They have their faces covered with a black gaiter like they do in real prison. “Kind of like Xander’s headphones,” I lie. “If I don’t have him, I go berserk and start a killing rampage. You know what
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