Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
My parents appeared alongside Sergeant Davis and two other members of the Guard. It was immediately evident I’d told Peter everything. I hadn’t even considered lying to him, but telling him the truth also put him in an awkward position.
They sat us down and had us sign NDAs, which meant we couldn’t tell anyone else about me going undercover. I thought of Rebecca and Grace and my friends from school, Sophia, Ren, Nic, and Angela. They would all have to believe that I’d murdered Belinda. We couldn’t risk word getting out that a secret operation was underway at the prison. If someone managed to get a message to one of the prisoners, my cover would be blown immediately.
I would remain at the headquarters for the next few nights while being given in-depth training to deal with what I would encounter when I entered the prison. My father would see to it that a fake trial was conducted by the Hawthorn Council, which would find me guilty, sentencing me to a term in the Prison of Thorns. After that, I’d be transported to the prison, which was when the hard work would truly begin.
“There’s something else,” Sergeant Davis said after all the arrangements had been discussed. “The blood test results came back, and we did detect an unusual substance. It appears to be some kind of sedative, but it’s unlike anything we’ve seen before.”
“Do you think it’s from Oreylia?” I asked. “They have all sorts of different elements there. Vasilios mentioned something called reylite. They mine for it the way we mine for coal.”
“It could be. Our lab technicians are studying it now, so hopefully, they’ll be able to decipher more of its characteristics and where it might’ve come from,” Sergeant Davis replied.
“Well, for now, you better get some sleep,” Dad said as he rose from his seat. “It’s been a long day.”
We said our goodbyes, and I was brought to a small, windowless room with a bed and a small chest of drawers. Through a doorway, there was a tiny bathroom with a toilet, sink, and shower. I supposed sleeping there would be good practice. My cell would probably be even more basic at the prison, if not downright uncomfortable.
The days passed in a blur. I spent most of that time absorbing as much information as possible about the prison. There were numerous similarities with human prisons but also a few big differences. Primarily, men and women weren’t separated.
In the supernatural world, many women were far stronger than men. I was a prime example of that. The prison founders used that as their reason for no separation, but it still didn’t make sense since there were all sorts of strength levels among supernaturals. Most likely, they’d aimed to induce fear. If you didn’t have strength as I did as a dhampir, it would be a fight for survival, a truly terrifying place to find yourself, and, therefore, a big disincentive to commit a crime.
In addition to the magical wards surrounding the prison, each prisoner who possessed magical abilities was tattooed with a length of thorns encircling both wrists. The tattoos were bespelled, blocking the ability to use one’s magic, which made it even more intriguing how Vasilios was managing to bypass it.
By the end of my final day of training, my brain was full, and my body was tired and sore from the fighting techniques my father and the Guard’s martial arts experts drilled into me. I was armed with ways to de-escalate, ways to fight for my life, ways to turn everyday objects into weapons, and ways to escape when I was outnumbered. It was expected that some prisoners might take exception to me. I was one of the youngest inmates ever to enter the prison. People would try to intimidate or even attack me.
I was being admitted under my mother’s maiden name, Stolle, instead of my father’s. Entering that place with even a whisper of the name Cristescu was a recipe for disaster. I just had to hope that Vasilios was satisfied that his plan worked and that he wouldn’t out my true identity right away. However, if he did, I had no problem hurting anyone who tried to come at me.
After some pleading with Sergeant Davis, Peter was permitted to be with me for the final few hours before I left. I felt terrible when he looked like he hadn’t slept a wink. We lay on the narrow bed I’d slept in the last few nights and held each other. We were both wound too tight, too anxious and stressed to be any more intimate than that.
“I’m going to be so worried about you,” he said, his mouth mushed into my hair as he held me to him.
“I hate that I have to leave you,” I replied, pressing a kiss to his jaw before resting my head on his solid chest.