Chapter 13 – Prisoner Five Hundred
Margot’s POV
Cara scraped the last of her pasta salad with her fork and let out a long sigh. “Tell me this isn’t the best damn food you’ve had in, like, forever.”
I laughed weakly, chewing the final bite of my chicken wrap. “Unfortunately for us, it definitely is.”
We both glanced at the buffet, still half-loaded with pastries, sandwiches, and those mini chocolate brownies that looked criminally good.
“I mean,” Cara said, eyeing the brownies, “we could go back up. Screw it. Might be our last good food for a while—who knows what they’ll feed us in prison. Better yet, this might be our last supper!”
I raised a brow at her. “You said not to jinx it, remember?” I complained, understanding that we had put an end to the death jokes.
She rolled her eyes. “Too late for that now. I realized we’ve already jinxed it when we applied to be a part of this! We may as well enjoy the perks.”
I laughed again, but there was no real humor in it. The food was good—hell, it was amazing—but that gnawing unease in my gut hadn’t left since we stepped into this place. No amount of sandwiches or pasta salad could drown out the feeling that we were in way too deep.
Still, Cara stood, grabbing her empty plate. “I’m getting another brownie. Come on.”
I followed her reluctantly, stuffing another water bottle into my tracksuit pocket like some desperate scavenger. Just in case. If we were being shoved into a cell later tonight, who knew when we’d see anything this decent again?
But before we even reached the halfway point of the buffet line, the side doors creaked open again with an ominous groan.
The room quieted almost instantly.
Girls began to trickle back inside in twos and threes—those who had been taken out earlier for their inmate briefings. They returned with strange expressions: some dazed, some unnerved, and others… oddly giddy.
“What the hell?” I whispered to Cara as we slowly backed away from the table, our appetites dying a second death.
“They’re coming back like they just got back from a fucking spa day,” Cara muttered.
“Yeah, or speed dating in hell.”
We watched as the scarred man returned to the platform, eyes flicking over the room like a hawk surveying its prey. The guards flanking the door resumed their clipboard ritual.
“The next twenty will now be called!” He announced, as the same routine played out…
“Kylie Antwood… Olivia Tees…”
Then, the name I’d been dreading to hear:
“Margot Belle.”
The words sliced through the air like a blade.
I froze mid-step. My plate slipped slightly in my hands, threatening to fall.
Cara immediately turned to me, her face paling in real-time. “It’s okay,” she whispered, grabbing my hand. “You’ve got this. It’s just a briefing. You’re going to be fine; you’ll be back soon to tell me all about it.”
Easy for her to say—since her name hadn’t just been read out like a damn death sentence.
But I nodded anyway, even as the blood drained from my face.
A tall man stood waiting for me near the exit. He was bald with a thick, muscular frame and eyes that didn’t seem to blink. The moment our eyes locked, he gave the smallest nod, which I was oddly grateful for… showing me that this was all okay.
I forced my legs to move, though they felt stiff and uncooperative, like I was wading through syrup. Cara gave my hand one final squeeze before I broke away and headed toward the guard.
He didn’t say a word—just turned on his heel and marched out the side door, and I had no choice but to follow him.
The hallway was cold, long, and metallic. Every footstep echoed like a gunshot, the fluorescent lights above humming like they were seconds from blowing out.
I wanted to look back, but I didn’t.
At the end of the corridor, we stepped into another wide room—this one sectioned off by large freestanding curtains, giving the illusion of privacy. The space buzzed with quiet voices, most of them female. I spotted a few of the girls from earlier, seated on metal folding chairs beside grim-faced guards who were flipping through files with pages full of clipped photos and typed notes.
My stomach flipped in anticipation, knowing that I was about to hear all about the inmate I had been assigned to…
What was his crime? Was he a killer? Would he attempt to kill me?!
The bald guard cleared his throat to gain my attention before he motioned toward a curtained section at the far end. I stepped inside to find two chairs and a plain metal table. A thick, sealed brown folder was already waiting on it, my name typed neatly across the tab.
This is it, I thought…
“Sit,” the man finally said, voice like gravel. “Let’s open this, then, and see what prisoner number you got.”
I lowered myself into the cold metal seat, spine rigid, heart pounding. Whatever happened next, I had to be ready. Because the second this folder opened… my inmate, my fate, would no longer be hypothetical.
This was the beginning…
Watching as the man ran his thumb along the top to tear it open at a snail’s pace felt almost criminal in itself.
Eventually, he fumbled to draw out the contents, turning them right-way up before his eyes began to scan—shielding the documents from my view.
I watched him, waiting patiently for him to speak, but instead, his face began to contort before my very eyes.
“This… this can’t be fucking right…” he scowled at the page, shuffling them around before slapping the sheets back down on top of the table, causing me to flinch at the harshness of his action.
He stood from his chair, moving around me to poke his head back out into the open space. “Commander! Come check this out for a sec!” He bellowed, not caring much for anyone else around us as my palms grew sweatier… what was happening?!
He returned quickly to his chair, as my heartbeat quickened in confusion, watching him collect up the sheets once more.
Seconds later, another man appeared by our side, a large gun hanging across his chest as I swallowed hard, not liking that its tip was pointing directly at me…
“What is it?!” He snapped impatiently, as the guard turned the pages and pointed to something on there.
“Prisoner five hundred?! That’s got to be a mistake? How’d he get approved for this shit? You do realize if he passes, he might actually get released!” He ranted to the commander, as I felt my tongue begin to swell inside my mouth.
Who the hell were they talking about?!
“Ah yes, nah, there’s no mistake, I’m afraid. He applied and got approved; said he wants to make a real effort. No doubt his father had a hand in this, you know how it is.” The commander shrugged before his eyes shifted to me. “Good luck to you, little lady, that’s all I’ll say on this one!” He laughed to himself, addressing me as I shifted uncomfortably on my chair.
Without another word, he left us, as the guard before me rubbed a rough hand across his forehead with a sigh.
“Well, I suppose I better brief you on this as much as I can… the man you’ve been assigned to goes by the name: Coban Santorelli.”
I blinked, drinking in the name as I tried my best to keep up…
Coban Santorelli?
Even that sounded dangerous…
What have I done?!