The Prison (Book 1)

What's on the Menu?

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What's on the Menu?

"Pick a place to sit."

I looked at Schneider with a quizzical look, wondering just what the hell he was talking about. "I don't think there are any empty tables left. We'd be lucky if we found a spot on the ground to sit on."

"Just pick any table you fancy." Schneider insisted with a small smile. A heavy frown drew my eyebrows together at those vague words. I was truly puzzled now. I stared at Schneider for a few seconds, and then I shrugged, thinking I had nothing to lose. Dutifully, I searched the cafeteria with my eyes, looking for a good table to sit at and have dinner. My eyes zeroed in on one of the tables next to the windows.

"There." I pointed.

Schneider let out a low whistle and then said, "A table with a view, huh? Nice pick. I was worried you'd choose one close to the door for a quick getaway!"

"Asshole!" Playfully, I shoved him, trying –but ultimately failing—to hide my grin.

If the inmates hadn't noticed us before, they did now.

As we made our way to one of the tables near the windows, every pair of eyes in the cafeteria followed us, or so it seemed to me. Conversations ceased. Eyes burned holes into me as we passed by tables. The guards stopped patrolling and turned to look at me with curious gazes. Even the cameras seemed to zoom in on me just to get a better look at the King's cellmate, I assumed. Schneider had been truthful when he said sharing a cell with the king himself would turn me into a spectacle. It could not be helped that my heat started beating a staccato rhythm and that I was suddenly on edge, eyes darting around suspiciously like a bird surrounded by an army of snakes. I made sure to avoid making eye contact with any of the inmates and to stick close to Schneider, and he in turn made sure to stick close to me, which I was sincerely grateful for.

"Walk with your head tall. Don't show fear, Aiden. Show everyone that know you're not one to be messed with." Instructed Schneider in a low voice so only I could hear.

"Funny, I was told just the opposite. I was told to stay invisible."

"Only if you have a death wish. The inmates without backbones here are the ones preyed upon." he replied casually as he put his hands into the pockets of his orange uniform.

The man didn't seem the least bit bothered by the staring, perhaps because he was used to it. In fact, the prince exuded some kind of aura of self-assurance and confidence and walked with his chin up as if he was absolutely certain he was above everyone and everything else. His eyes were straightforward, indifferent and cold, and there was even a bit of swag to his gait. Did he not notice the thousands of inquisitive eyes trained on us?

I guess not.

There was no way I could look that poise, no way I could walk like royalty and like everyone else was beneath me. But that didn't mean I couldn't try. So, with a thumping heart, I raised my chin, squared my shoulders, balled my fists and practically strutted, doing my best to mimic Schneider's agile movements. I knew I looked absolutely ridiculous, but I didn't care as long as it didn't get me butt-fucked.

We reached the table and I let out a relieved sigh.

"How exactly are you going to get us one of these tables?" I asked. What the hell was he going to do to procure us one of those tables? Ask politely if we could share? Yeah, right.

Schneider smirked proudly. I watched him approach one of the tables calmly with his hands still in his pocket. The six occupants of the table seemed to tense up quite visibly when they saw him walking their way, their eyes widening in horror.

As soon as Schneider stood in front of their table, he commanded ever so calmly, "Get up."

Never in my life did I see people pack their trays of food and abandon a table as if it were on fire so fast. Schneider sat down then beckoned me with a nod of his head.

So, this was the extent of power and influence the Prince of the Prison from Hell possessed. I was suddenly curious to see what the King himself was capable of. Would they drape the floor with a red carpet if he were to enter the cafeteria? Would the inmates bow down to him? They probably would.

"See? What did I tell ya? You need to earn some respect around here if you want to survive your life sentence." The Prince told me seriously.

With a heavy sigh, I consented, "I get it. What do I have to do?"

"Get Schneizel's protection."

"What?!" I exclaimed so loudly, I drew even more prying eyes to us, my eyes popping out of their sockets. Just the sound of that man's name made my pulse quicken and my body tense up. There was absolutely no way that I was asking protection from a godforsaken murderer! No way in hell! "Why? I have your protection, don't I?!"

But before Schneider was able to answer me, a deep voice came out of nowhere, successfully interrupting our conversation, "I'll give you mine. If you become my bitch, that is."

An icy chill slithered down my spine. Unfortunately, I recognized that voice. Warning alarms went off in my head and all my instincts told me to run.

A large hand rested on my right shoulder as if he'd read my mind and was keeping me in place so that I wouldn't be able to escape. Damn him!

"Hello, Raven." Schneider greeted icily, his suddenly cold-as-ice eyes looking past me at the one man I did not wish to encounter right now.