Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
He turns to me, his watery brown eyes scanning my face, his mustache twitching slightly.
“This place…” His gaze shifts to the building ahead. “It’s dangerous. The men you're about to meet are dangerous too. But I don’t believe they’re dangerous to you. Do you understand?”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I do. A dog that bites once is capable of biting again, even if you chain it up or pull its teeth.
“All you need to do is keep them happy. They’ve done a lot of bad in their lives, but they’ve also done something good. Something deserving of a reward bigger than I can give them. This is the most I can do to repay them. Do you think you can handle that?”
His words twist like riddles, but what’s clear is that I need to do whatever these men want—to keep them satisfied and keep myself safe. I’m not ready for this, not in my tight dress and strappy shoes. But I have no choice. This is for my little sister. I’d do anything for Kennedy. Anything.
I just have to focus on the money. It’s more than I expected, more than enough to help her and keep myself going until I figure out my next move.
“If anyone asks, you’re my cousin’s kid, come to look around the place. Once I get you to where you’re staying, no one will come looking for you.”
He rubs his hand over his weathered face and sighs. He didn’t mean to sound ominous, but he did. My heart clenches, making me woozy. Then, with a renewed resolve, he throws open the car door and heaves himself out. My hands tremble as he rounds the back of the car to open the door beside me. I grip the seat, wanting to tell him to take me home. My sister’s problems suddenly seem so much smaller now I’m putting my life on the line for her safety. But then I feel sick because she’d do this for me. She’d risk her own life if it meant she could help me. Through the hardest parts of our childhood, she’d throw herself in front of flying fists to protect me, and I’d do the same for her. We bonded under the worst kind of pressure.
A siren startles me and spurs me to struggle from the vehicle, and I clasp my arms across my chest as I glance around. Loud male voices echo in the sprawling space, and the car door slams like a gunshot.
“You have a phone?”
He stares at the bulge on the side of my hip. The only place I had to store it was beneath the hem of my dress, tucked into the elastic of my thong. “Yes.”
“You’ll have to give it to me.”
My lifeline, the only way I have to connect to the outside world and my sister, is getting taken away.
I reach beneath my dress and pull out the small, warm phone, handing it to him.
“Will you bring it to me to check the messages?”
He slides the phone into his pocket and nods.
“This way.”
The air inside the prison is heavy and oppressive. The entryway starkly contrasts the dusty landscape with gray walls and harsh fluorescent lighting that buzzes faintly above. A metal detector and several armed guards greet us just past the doorway. The smell of disinfectant clings to everything, mingling with the faint scent of sweat and something hard to place.
We pass through security with little fuss, but my nerves are buzzing so hard, I don’t take anything in. I’m searched, but I don’t have any possessions with me, so it doesn’t take any time at all. As Warden Grady leads me deeper into the facility, the sound of my shoes echoes hollowly off the concrete floors. The hallways are narrow and windowless, lined with heavy steel doors with small, reinforced windows. I pass several guards along the way, each one giving me a look that’s a mix of curiosity and indifference. Grady keeps a brisk pace, barely glancing back to check if I’m following.
The farther we walk, the more the prison closes in around me. The constant hum of the security systems fills my mind like the low hum of a beehive. Every few steps, the distant clanging of metal doors slamming shut and the muffled voices of inmates amplify the dread.
We pass a series of small rooms—holding cells, interrogation rooms, and offices. The occasional inmate shuffles by, escorted by guards, their faces hard and weary, and their eyes on me, sizing me up.
Eventually, Grady stops in front of a reinforced door. “Cellblock D,” he said, his voice flat. “This is where the men you’ll be dealing with are housed. Keep your wits about you. Don’t share your private information. Play your cards close to your chest.”
Instead of going inside, he bypasses the door, passes through another coded door, and down a flight of stairs. At the bottom, and down a long dark corridor, is a smaller unit, which seems deserted. “This used to be the medical facility until it was relocated to another wing. It’s secure, but the cameras have been disconnected. No one comes down here.”