Throne of Truth

“Well, we’ll hire a team to reinvent our image after it’s over.”

“Over?”

I nodded. “Yes, Penn will be given a court date soon, and we can finally get the truth out. Then he’ll be released, and it will be over.”

“How long do you think that will take?”

I shrugged. “It depends on the justice system.”

I sounded so much more knowledgeable than I was.

The way he gnawed his bottom lip gave me an idea. “You know...you could help speed this process along, if you wanted.”

“I can? How?” He narrowed his eyes warily.

“By calling your judge friend. Put in a good word. Get a court date, sooner rather than later, so we can all move on with our lives.”

“You want me to tamper with courts and trials now, Elle?” He looked at the ceiling. “What’s become of you?”

“The need to fix everything I did wrong.”

His look was quizzical, but he didn’t ask for a structured explanation of my cryptic reply.

Instead, he kissed the top of my head. “Oh, very well. If it means this will all blow over faster, I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Penn

THE AMBUSH HAPPENED four days later in the recreational yard.

Three men stopped me mid-jog.

After doing my best to come up with a counter attack, I gave up. I had no weapons, no friends to back me up.

I was on my own. And unless I wanted to die in retaliation, I had to let it happen.

So I did.

No matter how much it fucked me off.

Their fists gave me an unwanted ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ rough up. Their feet delivered a well-heard ‘this is our turf, so don’t get any fucking ideas’ kick. Their growls told me exactly how to toe the line and behave.

They seemed to know where a dead zone existed in the security cameras on the jogging track. They didn’t hesitate to gift a beating that activated old injuries, memories, and wounds from my past.

The punch-up only lasted a few seconds, but they knew how to deliver pain.

And I knew how to listen to their message.

I let them get in a few good strikes then exploded and delivered a few myself. I’d let them put me in my place because it meant I wouldn’t be harassed further. But I wouldn’t be a fucking pussy because that was just the start of a worse war.

The tightrope to walk was so damn narrow, but I’d walked it before. I could walk it now.

They were the shit in here. Not me. They thought they’d disciplined me. They hadn’t. Everyone went away slightly happier and settled.

Even if I limped rather than stalked and their punches activated old injuries from Greg’s morning wake-up call the day he took Elle.

I gave up running for the rest of the afternoon and sat on the bleachers tending to a busted lip and bloody nose.

No one commented on my state, and I nodded curtly at the assholes who’d given me the lesson when they walked back to their cells after the bell rang.

Just like school had bullies, prison had thugs. It was all a chessboard in the end. No one was king for long. And no one stayed a rook forever. We were all jumping over each other trying to win the queen.

Trudging back to my cell, I spat out a glob of blood. I’d never been soft or naïve in my life—I couldn’t after seeing death and never having a home—but the awful fact was, I had begun to relax a little. I’d relaxed knowing Larry had my back, and Elle was mine after so many mistakes.

I’d relished in playing games with her because it soothed some of the pain. I’d become the bully, and with my belly bruised and face forming a nice black eye, I was reminded how much it fucking sucked to be the victim.

Yet here I was, held in remand with no way out on an attempted murder charge, buried up to my balls in shit.

At least, now I was in jail, Arnold wouldn’t be able to fuck up my life as bad. Unless he was in the habit of bribing the warden or commissioner of corrections, I was out of his control.

For now.

I needed to see Larry.

And Elle.

Fuck, I needed to see Elle.

* * * * *

Another two weeks.

Fourteen measly days on top of all the rest.

A fucking lifetime.

I lived in sameness every day, tormenting myself with thoughts of a happier memory, spending whatever freedom I was given between working, eating, and yard work in the library.

The books hadn’t changed.

The reading material was no better.

But at least the notepad and pen gave me an outlet to scribble my thoughts and see if there was any way around my mess.

I kept those notes with me safe, posting pages to Larry on mail days so he could have some idea of what I knew and suspected between our meetings.

Today was Wednesday, which meant the only thing to look forward to were spaghetti and meatballs for dinner and our turn in the media room for the allotted ninety minutes.

My life is fucking riveting.

As I made my bed, preparing for a new day in this walled city, a guard appeared. He had to be just out of his teens, filled with the need to be the best and most liked officer on staff. It made me hate him immediately.

“Everett, visitor.”

I dropped my pillow onto the bed. “You sure?”

The guard rolled his eyes as if I was a simpleton. “Of course, I’m sure.”

I had no response to that cocky attitude. I didn’t feel like getting into a fight with a newbie. I’d been told that other personal visits would be strictly monitored and most likely denied because of the upcoming trial. Turned out, Larry got around it.