The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 151

**Keeper 151**

Margot’s Perspective

The absence of him made breakfast feel profoundly unsettling.

That was the first realization that struck me as I aimlessly pushed the remnants of my scrambled eggs around the tray with my fork, each movement a futile attempt to find solace in the food that had lost its appeal.

To my left, there was an unsettling expanse of empty space, a gaping void that echoed with the raucous noise surrounding me. The breakfast crowd today was particularly boisterous, their laughter and shouts sharper, more abrasive, as if they were all vying to assert their dominance in the aftermath of last night’s chaos.

I instinctively hunched my shoulders, drawing myself into a smaller silhouette, my eyes darting up every time the volume of voices escalated even a fraction.

And escalate they did.

Three altercations had erupted before we were even halfway through our meal…

Three full-blown brawls, each one more explosive than the last, erupting like a storm before the calm of morning could settle.

The first clash sent trays crashing to the ground, the sound a jarring explosion that reverberated through the hall. Someone screamed, a piercing cry that sliced through the air. Guards descended like hawks, their batons cracking against the concrete floor, while men were yanked away by their collars, their assigned females trailing behind them like shadows, all of it happening in a blur before I could even process the chaos unfolding around me.

The second fight was even more harrowing. A girl was sobbing uncontrollably, her voice filled with desperation as she shouted that she didn’t want to swap partners. The new guy, clearly irate, responded with aggression, barking at her to “shut the fuck up!” Her previous partner, incensed by the disrespect shown toward “his” female, lunged at the offender. Blood splattered onto the floor, mingling with the chaos, while someone spat teeth into their palm. It was a descent into madness, spiraling downward into a vortex of violence.

The third incident was ignited by an inmate who brazenly threw himself against his newly assigned female, flaunting his claim over her with reckless abandon. More violence erupted, more screams filled the air, and the atmosphere became thick with chaos and fear.

Since the moment I sat down, my heart had been racing, a relentless drumbeat of anxiety.

Who would be the next to shatter?!

This place today felt less like a prison and more like a pressure cooker, the tension palpable, threatening to explode at any moment.

And I understood the reason behind this madness.

They had given these possessive men something to cling to from the very first day—a partner, a connection, something to protect. It was no wonder they were losing control. The cracks in their facades were beginning to show, the weakest among them faltering first.

Bonds had been forged only to be tested…

But that was the entire point of this experiment.

I swallowed hard, my appetite dwindling with every shout that echoed around me.

This project was not about reform.

It was about exposure.

Who could maintain self-control?

Who would falter?

Who would break when something they believed they “owned” was threatened or taken away?

My thoughts drifted to Coban, and I couldn’t help but recall the way his jaw clenched whenever another man dared to glance my way, how his body instinctively shifted closer to me, a silent barrier, claiming me as his own.

If fate had not led me to Leo…

I shuddered at the thought, not daring to let it finish.

Coban would have been one of those to snap.

He would have fought, dragged me back by the wrist, heedless of the consequences, asserting that I was his and his alone.

The mere idea of another man trailing behind me in this place, touching me, speaking on my behalf?

That would have shattered him.

And the most unsettling aspect of Coban was that, deep down, a part of me relished that intensity.

I liked the knowledge that someone so dangerous had chosen to claim me as his own.

I found comfort in the realization that I mattered enough to someone to be fiercely protected, a feeling I had never experienced before in my life…

It was terrifying, yet oddly reassuring.

Both emotions swirled within me.

“You good?” Leo’s voice sliced through my spiraling thoughts, grounding me momentarily. He bit into a piece of toast as if the chaos surrounding us was merely background noise, mundane instead of potentially lethal.

I nodded quickly, though my chest felt constricted. “Yeah. I just don’t like it when the fights start.”

“That’s understandable,” he replied with an ease that belied the tension in the air. “Nobody in their right mind would.”

As if in response to his words, a guard slammed an inmate face-first onto a table two rows over, the sound loud and jarring.

I flinched and instinctively scooted over a little, as if that minor movement could somehow shield me from the violence.

Leo noticed, leaning in slightly, his voice low and steady. “Nobody will touch you,” he assured me. “Not here. Not anywhere. You’re safe with me for now, Margot.”

I nodded again, gripping my fork a little tighter, finding solace in his words.

“After our time slot’s up,” he continued, “Coban and Cara will come to eat. Then we’ll probably all meet up at the gym. Things will feel back to normal soon enough.”

Back to normal?

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify