Throne of Truth (Truth and Lies Duet #2)(39)

Either Larry was too late to attend the hearing, or he was busy putting together my defense. Whatever the reason, I trusted him because he knew what I was up against. If he thought it was worth staying away for now, then fine. I had no doubt he’d file an appeal and request an early trial to set this long-winded, beyond-aggravating system into motion.

Greg had better get fucking arrested, too.

I wouldn’t be able to stomach going to jail while the real perpetrator got away with it.

Again.

At least this time around, I wasn’t a penniless, homeless throwaway.

I had money.

I had friends.

And that made it even more imperative in Arnie’s corrupted mind that he control my reinsertion back into prison with utmost perfection.

I had no intention of keeping his secrets this time. Give me a judge, a jury, a fucking court full of people and I’d tell them all about Arnold’s precious son.

Unless I get shanked, of course.

Fuck, I missed Elle. I missed being free.

Hours had a tendency to blur together in this place. I had no idea how many had passed by the time I was collected in a minivan with bars on the windows and manacles on the floor.

Cuffed hands and ankles, I shuffled onto the bus and a clank of chains locked me into position. The noise of the links reminded me Greg had chained Elle.

That he’d hurt her.

Almost raped her.

My rage and desire to punch him all over again helped overshadow my fear at being trapped against my will. The incessant blistering fury fed me better than any food or liquor, and I didn’t pay attention to the officer closing the door or the driver sliding the van into gear and taking me from police station to prison block.

At least, Arnold had retreated to his office like the scum he was.

*

Arriving at the Department of Corrections, I was finally given a shower to wash away the blood, a quick check up by the in-house doctor, who kindly prescribed more painkillers, and searched for contraband—which was the single most degrading thing a man could go through.

Once clean and dressed in a dark green prison uniform, I was met with the usual welcome of a blanket, pillow, and toothbrush parcel then ferried into the prison population where remanded felons were kept just in time for the warning bell for lights out.

For now, I had a cell with two bunk beds pressed up against the wall to myself.

I had no doubt that would change, but tonight, I’d enjoy the fucking privacy.

Choosing the top bunk, I spread out my blanket, fluffed my pillow, and lay down to glower at the pockmarked ceiling.

Every inch of me hurt.

My head, my hands, my chest, my legs...everything.

But despite the heat and throbbing in my joints, I waited to feel something other than physical maladies.

To ache with unfairness and suffer discomfort at being somewhere foreign. To crave freedom and open spaces with the unsatisfied appetite of a drug addict.

And I did suffer.

But I couldn’t fake myself into believing this place was foreign.

It wasn’t foreign at all.

It was familiar.

A second home.

A well-known place I despised with every inch of my being.

Its welcome whispered over me, deleting the past few years where I’d been wealthy and cared for and obsessed with the girl who’d shared my chocolate bar, fell for me, and then looked at me as if I was scum even when she heard the truth.

Her apology echoed in my ears.

Her tears glistened in memory.

I’d hurt her, but she’d hurt me.

And now, I was here, and she was there, and there was no way to fix what was broken.

“Fuck.” I punched my pillow, rolled over, and closed my eyes.





Chapter Nineteen


Elle


“I HAVE TO SEE him.”

Another phone rang in the background, but Larry didn’t make an excuse to end our call to answer it.

He sighed, but it wasn’t cruel, more like lost as to what he could offer me. “I can arrange it but not for a few days. New prisoners are given a stand-down period before visitors are allowed.”

“New prisoners?”

“He’s being held without bail. I’ve already filed an appeal and fighting for a hearing date that isn’t sometime in two years. We’ll get him back, but the justice system is archaic. It’ll take time.”

“Time?” I sucked in a breath. “How much time?”

“Can’t say. But it’ll be as short as I can make it.”

My heart plummeted, rolling in shame, coating in guilt until it sat tarred and feathered in my stomach. “But...he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“The previous times he was locked up, I would’ve agreed with you.” His voice layered with tiredness, reminding me not so long ago, he was seriously sick, and Penn had been the one to look after him. Now, it was Larry’s turn.

How many times has it been his turn?

“Previous times?” My voice was small, timid. My question hesitant.

Larry heard my uncertainty.

I hated myself for it. Here I was so close to the truth, and I wasn’t sure I had the balls to learn any more.

The more I did, the more I cursed myself. Cursed myself for not trying harder to find Penn. For doubting him. For hurting him.

His arrogance and fine-edged cruelty had been the perfect mask to hide the loneliness and hardship of a life I could never imagine.