The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 82

Coban’s POV

After the women had been carted off on their buses, silence had taken their place, and for the first time in days, the yard felt still.

Too still.

As I sat outside with Leo for air….

My hands held a bottle of water, as I crushed it regularly for a distraction…

The same hands that had held Margot the night before.

The same hands that had wrapped around her waist and pulled her into me like she belonged there.

The same hands that had hurt and killed people before…

I sighed heavily.

I could still feel the warmth of her, the way her fingers had curled into me when she finally let herself fall asleep beside me.

That memory had kept me unusually quiet this morning. Tense.

Across from me, Leo exhaled and leaned back with a groan, squinting up at the sky like he expected it to answer the storm of questions in his head.

“Well,” he started, stretching his arms out like a man enjoying retirement, “I guess we’ll know soon if we’re getting glowing reviews or getting thrown under the fucking bus.”

I didn’t respond.

He glanced at me. “You think they’ll do it?”

“Do what?” I eyed him carefully.

“Sell us out,” Leo said, tilting his head. “Lie, Exaggerate. Twist things around to make us look like dickheads.” He wondered, evidently just as paranoid as I felt.

I turned my gaze to the dirt patch near the fence.

A bird – tiny, probably the first I’d seen in months was pecking at the cracked earth.

Even it looked out of place here…

“What have you got to worry about? You’ve been acting like Prince fucking charming all week!” I state, matter of factly, as he scoffs.

“Yeah, right! I’ve had my moments in the cell, trust me…” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in memory at whatever he’d done.

But I knew that regardless, I was still worse…

“You never know what they’ll say,” I muttered with a shrug, acting unfazed by it all which was a lie.

–

Leo frowned. “Come on, man. You really think Cara’s gonna run her mouth? I’m convinced the girl would probably go to war for me if I asked her to at this rate. She’s already halfway in love with me…” Leo changes his defence, more so trying to convince himself as opposed to me.

I looked at him. “You sure about that? They’re in here for the cash…”

Leo grinned, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “I mean… yeah, true. But I think she’s fell in love bro!” He laughed, as I shook my head.

“And so have you!” I smirk, pointing out the obvious as he immediately straightens.

“No way! Fuck that shit!” He waves me off dramatically, as I shake my head and begin to grin.

His reaction spoke for itself… he liked her too.

I leaned forward more, rubbing my thumb against the knuckles of my fist. “It’s not just about whether they like us. It’s about pressure. Fear. Someone in that room’s gonna twist their words around. Make ‘em feel guilty for not ratting us out. Make them think if they don’t speak up now, they’re as guilty as we are.”

Leo paused, watching me carefully. “But Bella wouldn’t do that either… right?”

I didn’t answer right away.

That was the problem.

I wanted to believe she wouldn’t. After last night… I wanted to believe she trusted me. That I had her loyalty now. That she’d started to see me for something more than the number stamped next to my name in the files.

But people changed fast when you cornered them.

I’d seen it my whole life. Truth bent like metal under heat when fear got involved.

“I don’t know her,” I said finally, ‘Not really. It’s been what… six days?”

Leo let out a breath. “Yeah, but a lot can happen in six days I feel like they’ve been here forever.”

I thought about Bella’s eyes last night, wide and wet after that nightmare. Her body curled into mine for comfort.

The main Santorelli.

Impeccably dressed in a steel–gray suit. Crisp shirt. Cufflinks that probably cost more than the food budget for the entire prison for the year.

His dark hair was slicked back, just the way he used to wear it when he paraded in front of the cameras like a king in exile.

His hands were folded neatly on the table. Not a wrinkle in sight.

Not a goddamn thing out of place.

I stepped in slowly and dropped into the metal seat across from him. The table between us was polished so clean I could see my own tired face staring back at me.

“Coban, son,” he greeted, voice cool, familiar, and utterly unreadable. “You look… well.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”

“You’ve always had the gift of survival,” he said with a faint smile and wave of his wrist. “Even in squalor.”

I ignored the bait. “What do you want to tell me now?”

“I want to talk,” he said smoothly, leaning forward just enough to signal that he was here for a performance. “Like father and son. Like men with a shared goal.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek.

This wasn’t going to be a quick visit.

Not with him,

And certainly not when I had the sinking feeling that somehow, he already knew about Margot.

Of course he knew.

That damn rat managed to find out anything these days,

Needing control over my entire life even from the outside…