The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 137

Coban’s POV

The second the door shut behind the guards, the walls felt tighter.

Too quiet. Too fucking useless to me.

My knee bounced once. twice, a steady twitch of impatience as I scanned the ceiling tiles like the answer to my problem was going to be written right above me.

How the hell was I supposed to contact the suits now?

No nurse.

Nobody to manipulate.

No excuse to wander out into the main ward to look for someone useful either…

Eyery scenario that flashed up in my head died just as fast.

Start a fight for attention? Too risky.

Break something else on my face? The guards would just drag me straight to the crazy ward.

I exhaled out through my teeth, pinching the bridge of my nose – then stopping because holy shit. that hurt – hissing through clenched teeth as the throb pulsed up behind my eyes.

Perfect.

I definitely broke my fucking face for absolutely nothing…

The guilt tried creeping back in too – Margot’s face, the way she’d looked at me with that soft.

worried expression, the way she hovered close after seeing Leo lamp me like he did… completely confused by it all… and had it now been for nothing?!

But I shoved that thought down deep.

Couldn’t think about her right now.

Not when I was stuck in this sterile box with blood drying in crusty flakes on my skin.

Then…

The latch clicked.

The door swung.

And in came a blonde ponytail.

Not Margot’s bright, soft blonde though.

No.

This ponytail was duller, frizzed at the ends. tied too high like it was trying hard to look cute wed failing miserably…

Addison.

Of course.

The aniverse really was working in my favour just when I felt like I was approaching my breaking

point…

“The second I saw your name signed in. I came!” she announced with a breathy excitement that

made my headache worse.

She pushed the door shut behind her quickly, like we were having some secret reunion.

Before her expression suddenly dropped…

Her arms folded tightly across her chest as her mouth curled in to a displeased snare.

“But you’ve been quiet on me ever since the girls got here, Coban? What the fuck?!” She snapped.

There it was.

The tone.

Accusing

Jealous

Like she had any claim over me to begin with…

I forced myself not to roll my eyes. Instead, I wiped at the fresh drip of blood rolling down my upper lip. “Can you at least give mè something for my damn nose first.” I snapped, “before giving me your shit. Addison?!”

She scoffed. shaking her head dramatically. “Unbelievable. You act like I’m the problem right now?!”

“You are the problem.” I muttered under my breath, but loud enough that her eyebrows jerked up.

“You say something?” she shot back. planting a hand on her hip.

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

My glare said enough.

She clicked her tongue and stomped toward the counter, grabbing gauze and antiseptic wipes with

more force than necessary.

“You know,” she said sharply as she approached, “most men appreciate when someone shows a little interest in them.”

I barked out a humorless laugh. “Most men don’t have a broken face when the interest shows up.”

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