The Wild Wolf Pup (Zoe's Rescue Zoo #9)(71)

I take a deep breath, the biggest one my lungs will allow and force a smile.

“Twenty-nine,” she finally replies.

“I have two daughters, both in their twenties,” I tell her. “I saw them a few days ago and though their faces are fresh in my memory, I can’t help miss them like crazy.”

I brought my closed fist to my mouth and coughed uncontrollably. My chest ached as I abused what was left of my lungs. Dr. Gazelle stood quickly, turning around to the guard.

“Go get him a glass of water,” she ordered.

“But—” he stammers.

“Or you can stay and we can both watch him choke to death. How’s that for a first day on the job story?” She chastises, pointing her finger toward the door. “Water. Now.”

I continue to choke and gasp for air as the guard disappears from his post and the sweet young doctor grabs an oxygen mask. She fits the strap over my head and covers my mouth and nose with the mask.

“Try to relax, Mr. Pastore,” she instructs, turning up the dial on the oxygen tank. “That’s it, nice and easy breaths,” she whispers, holding the mask with one hand as she moves a strand of hair behind her ear.

I stared at her bare ear, the cough easing up as I brush her hand away and lower the mask from my face.

“Your earring,” I rasp.

She lifts her hand to her ear, feeling around for the diamond hoop I had spotted on the floor before she walked into the room.

“Oh, no,” she whispers, moving her hand to check for its mate. “They were a present from my father before he passed last year,” she explains as she frantically pats down her clothes in search of the earring.

And they say history doesn’t repeat itself—fools.

I lifted the mask off my face and point to the floor behind her.

“Is that it over there?”

She turns, following my finger as I lift the mask back to my face and casually rest my other hand on the metal tray.

“Where? Oh! There is its,” she murmurs, as my hand closes around the pair of scissors resting on the tray. I continue to breathe in the oxygen as she bends down to lift the earring from the floor. With a quick glance back toward the door I shove the scissors into the waistband of my pants, untucking my shirt and pulling the hem over my pants to conceal my weapon.

Dr. Gazelle stands, fitting the earring back to her ear as the guard walks in carrying a Styrofoam cup of water. I drop the mask onto my lap and reach for the cup he offered, smiling weakly at both of them.

“God bless you both,” I whisper before taking a gulp of the water, letting the liquid relieve the rawness of my throat.

I glance at the clock on the wall and feel my lips spread into a grin—it was almost time for the last supper.

After a few more hits of oxygen I was carted to my new cell. I didn’t hang my pictures nor did I remove my personal effects from the brown paper bag, this was just a resting point, a time to gather my thoughts and pray.

Our father who art in Heaven…

I prayed for my wife.

Welcome her with open arms Saint Peter.

I prayed for my children.

Let them be happy and healthy.

I prayed for my grandchildren.

Let them always be safe.

I prayed for Val.

I prayed for a woman I never met…Christine Petra.

I prayed for Danny Parrish.

I prayed for all the innocent victims of the G-Man.

Rest in peace, this ones for you.

Amen.

I didn’t pray for myself, not this time, whatever will be, will be. The bell sounds, and another fresh faced correctional officer opens my cell and guides me to the mess hall. I grab an empty tray and get on the back of the line as my eyes scan the room searching for my mark.

Come out and play.

The room was divided, white sat with white, black stuck with black there was no unity amongst inmates, a sure sign that this prison wouldn’t survive the chaos I was about to implode.

I shuffled my feet as I inched my way up the line, scoping the room for the face I hadn’t seen in years, a face so gruesome only a mother could love. Bet that bitch hated him too.

Father forgive me.

I made the sign of the cross as my eyes zeroed in on the table in the corner of the cafeteria and the lone man sitting at it devouring a pudding cup.

“How do you want to do this,” I hear Val’s voice say.

I glance at the man in front of me, peer over his shoulder as he loads his tray and smiles.

“You can’t be serious, Vic,” Val’s voice dares.

My grin widened.

Watch me.

I lift my tray over my head and slam it against the inmate in front of me before stepping to my left. He drops his tray, spins on his heel and glares at the man who stands in line behind me. I watch as he rears his fist back, his knuckles colliding with the poor innocent man just waiting for his grub.

“FIGHT!”

We like to think times change but they don’t, society is just as fucked as it was before Martin Luther King had a dream, and segregation was just as much alive in this cafeteria as it was on the streets. White attacked black, black attacked white, yellow went for red and so on and so forth.

And me? I, like Moses, parted the sea, holding my head high as I walked through the chaos, through the disruption, straight to the end.

The G-Man didn’t flinch as he continued to eat, ignoring the war raging around him and the man headed for him.