The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 46

Margot’s POV

I was three chapters deep.

Completely gone.

Trapped in another world hidden inside of the little book.

The castle walls were dripping in shadow, a storm was brewing beyond the gothic gates, and the heroine desperate and half–starved – had just stepped into the manor’s grand hall, its chandeliers long–dead and cobwebbed like forgotten memories. I could feel her heartbeat syncing with mine as she tiptoed across marble floors, drawn by a warmth that shouldn’t have existed in such a lifeless place.

Then she met him. The man in the dark.

–

He didn’t have fangs not yet. No red eyes, no claws, no threats. Just a calm, inviting smile, a jaw sharp enough to make a nun sin, and eyes that promised he could ruin her if she let him. He was handsome in the kind of way that made you forget you were supposed to run. A wolf in gentleman’s clothing. She didn’t know he was a vampire yet, but I knew…

My fingers gripped the edge of the pages.

God, what I wouldn’t give to trade places with her for a night. To run from something of my choosing, instead of the trap I’d been dragged into against my will here.

But I guess this wasn’t really against my will, was it? Considering I had willingly applied, signed the contracts, and boarded the damn ship to come all this way!

But still… it was difficult not to think that this whole thing had been a scam at times. Putting my life on the line every five seconds and praying to come out the other end alive just to get the damn money!

A sudden knock at the door split the atmosphere like an axe to glass.

I jumped, my heart springing up in to my throat as a common reaction now.

One foot was still stuck in the fiction, the other now planted firmly in the brutal reality of my world. Coban stood from the bed without a word, already moving toward the door with slow, impatient steps.

I peeked above the top edge of the book, still clutching it close to my chest as if the pages could protect me.

Coban cracked the door open- just enough for his expression to shift. Irritation. His tone followed it.

“Took your time.” His voice had dropped into that dangerous register again – sharp, cold, full of hidden threat.

The kind of tone you never wanted aimed at you.

A figure slipped in past the crack of the door. He was smaller than Coban. Leaner. His build more wiry than powerful – like someone who depended on speed and attitude over brute force. He wore an oversized black tracksuit that hung off his frame, his braided hair swinging slightly as he moved, skin a sun–drenched shade of brown that contrasted against the clinical white walls around us.

Then came her.

I didn’t see her at first – not until her head popped around behind him, her red hair bouncing into view like fire. My heart dropped as soon as her eyes locked with mine.

One of the other girls from the ship. Mint–green clad. The redhead with the lashes and the attitude.

Her face lit with recognition could stop it.

– or maybe it was just shock — and a tiny gasp escaped her mouth before she

Coban didn’t waste a single second.

—

“Not her,” he said immediately, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. His finger pointed sharply, eyes narrowing with a flash of fire. “Get her out.”

Montel turned back slightly, surprised, his mouth parting into a shape of protest.

“My bitch?” he asked, jerking a thumb toward her. “Don’t worry, she won’t snitch. Sure you won’t, darlin‘?”

He spread his arms wide with mock affection, putting on a performance as though we were in front of some kind of audience.

But snitch about what? What exactly were they both up to?

The girl caught the cue quickly. Her voice climbed into something sugary, high–pitched and syrupy–sweet. “Course not, bubs!” she giggled, batting her lashes and curling into his side like she belonged there.

I stared, disgusted. It was so fake. So dramatised.

But when I glanced back at Coban, I knew.

He wasn’t buying it either.

His face darkened like a thundercloud had rolled over it. “This is my fucking room, Montel. Get her the fuck out of here.”

His voice didn’t rise yet, but it thickened like smoke before a fire.

—

“You got a problem, bitch?” he barked, stepping around Montel in two long strides.

The girl stiffened, her entire demeanor shifting from cocky to cornered. Her eyes flicked to Montel, silently

but he didn’t move. He stood perfectly still, arms crossed, like she wasn’t his begging him to intervene to defend.

I could see it in her eyes when she realised.

She was on her own.

Her mouth opened, closed, then mumbled, “N–not at all.”

And with that, she turned, retreating fast. Cowardly. Not even a backwards glance.

Coban stared after her, muttering a string of curses under his breath as the door shut behind her.

The energy in the room thickened again. Tense. Toxic. Ready to boil over at any moment.

“Let’s get this shit done,” Coban growled, storming toward the chest of drawers for a surface top.

I ducked my head quickly, pressing back into the pages of my book.

But the words no longer made sense.

—

The castle, the vampire, the heroine in the storm they all blurred together now, drowned by the weight of what I’d just seen. The show of dominance. The volatile power. The violent peace that came after.

I wanted to know what the pair of them were doing, as things were seemingly pulled from Montel’s underwear, placed in bags on top of the surface.

And yet, even through all of the chaos and curiosity, one thing kept echoing in the back of my mind.

Mine stays.