The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 132

Margot’s POV

The room was bursting at the seams.

Every inch of the hall was filled with bodies – inmates, volunteers, guards lining the walls like soldiers waiting for something to explode.

The air itself seemed to sizzle with tension, thick enough to taste…

The suited men stood on the small raised stage at the front, sharp dark jackets, their polished shoes clicking smugly across the wooden floor. They carried themselves like kings looking down on their subjects – confident, arrogant, and far too comfortable with the power they held in this room.

“Now we know most of you aren’t going to like this…” one began, voice smooth and commanding. ” but it was, of course, expected that this would be a difficult project to pass.”

These smirks didn’t fade as they scanned the crowd, feeding off the discomfort that rippled through

I shifted in my seat, nerves crawling up my spine, inching just a little closer to Coban. His thigh

brushed against mine, and though he didn’t move to take my hand. his steady presence beside me

was enough to keep me from breakdown.

“The purpose of this challenge.” the second suit continued, “is to push you all to your limits. After week one, bonds have been built already and we presume most of you are comfortable by now?

Settled into your routines?”

A low murmur spread through the hall with agreement from some, distrust from others.

Comfortable?

It didn’t seem like the right word to use…

“So.” the man went on, his grin widening just slightly. “we have to switch things up a little. At least for a week or two.”

I frowned, my stomach knotting as 1 waited for the rest, but Coban got there first.

“Fucking spit it out,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough that a few heads turned.

“Coban.” I whispered sharply: nudging his arm, trying to quiet him before he drew the wrong kind of attention.

He shot me a look that made my chest tighten – it was sharp. frustrated, protective. But he didn’t say anything else,

The shorter suit leaned forward into the microphone, his tone falsely sweet. “This challenge will be known as The Mix-Up. Everyone will be reassigned to someone else for this week, before returning to their partners at some point next week.”

For a moment, there was nothing.

Just silence.

Before suddenly – chaos.

Chairs screeched back. Voices rose.

“Fuck that!”

“Not a chance!”

“That won’t be fucking happening!”

“Bunch of pigs!”

The room erupted.

My heart slammed in to my chest as men stood up, some shouting, some pacing. all angry. I could feel the energy shift from disbelief to pure fury within seconds.

I shrank back in my seat, gripping the edge of it as the guards along the walls straightened, hands hovering near their batons. I searched the crowd desperately for Cara, but all I saw were flashes of color – prison uniforms and flailing arms.

The noise was deafening — a storm of outrage and disbelief that rattled the entire hall.

Up front, the suits remained still. Calm. Like they’d wanted this reaction from them. Expected it.

“Now, now…” the tall one called out, his voice cutting clean through the chaos thanks to the microphone. “This challenge was designed to cause some upset. It’s meant to test you all. Only the strongest of minds will remain in the project by the end of it.”

His words only fueled the shouting further.

“This challenge will begin tonight.” the taller suit continued. raising his voice to compete with the chaos. “You will each be escorted to your new cells. Ladies, if you have any issues at all. please report to the nearest guard.”

-That was it.

That was the moment they officially lit the fuse.

Because by the time the men turned for the back door, the entire room was on its feet – yelling- swegring, throwing anything they could grab.

Coban rose beside me. his face carved from stone, every line of his jaw tight with barely contained rage.

I grabbed his arm instinctively, terrified he’d launch himself at the guards. “Coban, please don’t…”

He didn’t answer, his glare fixed on the stage as the suits disappeared through the side exit like cowards.

All 1 could hear were shouts. Chairs clattering. The sound of boots as guards began to shove people back toward the doors.

“Back to your blocks!” one bellowed, swinging his baton against the wall for attention. “Everyone back! Now!”

It took a minute for the crowd to start breaking apart, for the wave of bodies to begin shifting toward the exits.

Coban’s hand found mine again, rough and certain.

“We’re not playing their fucking game,” he growled under his breath, tugging me closer as the crowd swelled around us. “No one’s taking you away from me, Bella. Not a fucking chance.”From the look in his eyes as he said it. I believed him…

But deep down, I couldn’t help the tremor that crawled through me.

Because no matter what he promised, this place didn’t care about promises.

When night fell. I had the horrible feeling that they would separate us.

Whether Coban liked it or not…