The Prison (Book 1)

Protection Part 1

Protection Part 1

"Things got real messy real fast back at the cafeteria, huh?" Schneider gave me a wry smile, his eyes repentant.

Was this what he was here to talk about? He was feeling guilty?

There was nothing to feel guilty about; he wasn't the one he publicly assaulted me.

I returned his smile and said, "Don't worry; I won't hold a grudge against you for practically dragging me to the cafeteria."

"Here; a peace offering." He fished out another can of beer from the plastic bag and tossed it at me.

I scrambled to catch it with my right hand. "Hey, injured person over here!"

We both popped our beers open at the same time and took hearty gulps. My eyes watered at the taste; it felt like it had been a decade since the last time I had a beer.

"So, ready for your next tour?"

I choked on the next gulp, hacking coughs raking my body. "What?! No way, man!" There mere thought of leaving my cell and facing Raven again was appalling to me, as embarrassing and aggravating as it was to admit it. The dull ache I felt every time I moved my left arm was still too fresh to go out into a dangerous habitat and risk another injury just yet.

Schneider raised his eyebrows at him in disbelief. "You're just going to rot away in this cell forever like a terrified mouse?"

"Yes! At least it's better than being harassed and attacked every minute of the day! My life expectancy doubles. You wouldn't get it; you being the Prince and all."

A pause. A heavy sigh.

"I told you before and I'm telling you again; get my brother's protection. It's the only way to guarantee your safety."

"I don't want to." Exactly what sort of protection could I expect from a cold-blooded murderer? There was no way in hell that I could trust Schneizel.

"What did you do to get in here anyway?" It was a curious question, but one that jabbed at a festering wound nonetheless.

I hesitated for a moment, afraid of the judgement that had always followed everyone I'd previously told, but then I realized that they could hardly judge me. We were all in the same boat. "Which version do you want? Mine or theirs?"

"Theirs." Came his swift reply.

"I killed a rich man." I took another gulp.

"You usually have to do more than that to end up here. Unless he was a king or something, then that should do it."

"He was a rich man with an even richer, influential family bent on the worst possible revenge."

"Ah. Now, what's your version?"

"It wasn't murder as much as an act of failed heroism," I confessed everything that had happened that night to them. Once I was done, I met Schneider's gaze, expecting the same disbelief and doubt my own family, the police and the court had shown me.

"I like this version better, so I'll believe you."

"That's not how it works!"

"That's how my way works!"

I was suddenly aware of a new dominating presence that dwarfed both Schneider's and Cade's. I looked to the cell's open door to find none other than Schneizel, a backpack in his hand. Our eyes collided and an instant heat skittered down my spine.

"Out," he commanded the two of them, his gaze on me.

Schneider grumbled an inaudible response as he climbed down the upper bunk and left the cell, taking Cade with him.