Margot’s POV

Time had passed in a blur of anxious conversations and shuffling feet as each remaining group got called in and out for signing and prisoner debriefs.

Girls came and went in cycles – some returning looking pale and shaken, others concerningly giddy, clutching their papers like souvenirs from a bizarre school trip.

Cara and I kept mostly to ourselves after our chat, sharing whispered thoughts and exchanging nervous glances as more and more names were called from the ever-dwindling list.

The atmosphere was clammy – the type that made your lungs feel like they were wrapped in wire. I was just beginning to think we might get a moment of real silence when the main doors creaked open once again.

A hush fell across the room like a switch had been flipped.

The scarred man had returned amongst the last group of girls.

He stepped inside with that same slow, calculating pace – every step echoing with quiet authority, even over the low buzz of the fluorescent lights above us. His dark suit looked a little rumpled now, the collar open and his sleeves pushed up just slightly, like he’d had a long day at the office but wasn’t even halfway through it yet.

He seemed to be the one who carried the weight of this whole place on his shoulders and looked like he’d gotten used to it, too…

Without a word, he climbed back onto the low platform near the front of the room, eyes sweeping across us like we were recruits preparing for war.

Then – with one shrill, metallic screech – the microphone came to life.

A few girls winced. I physically recoiled, the sound rattling straight through to my teeth.

“Ladies,” he began, voice low and gravelly, now booming from the mounted speakers, “thank you for your cooperation today – and for your bravery in signing the final contracts for The Prison Project following your inmate briefings. I can imagine it was a daunting task for many of you.”

A strange ripple passed through the room at the word bravery, like no one was quite sure if it was meant as praise or as a warning.

But he continued before we could figure it out.

“I want to personally acknowledge the commitment you’ve made. Each of you now holds a legally binding agreement. You’ll be housed inside the prison compound for the duration of the project – assigned to live and work alongside your selected inmate.”

A few girls giggled together at the word “live.” Others shifted uncomfortably in their seats, the gravity of that sentence settling in.

“For your contribution and participation,” he went on, “each of you will be compensated with a payment of twenty-five thousand dollars. That’s only for completing the full term of the program. The money will be held in escrow, released only at the end of your successful stay.”

There it was again – successful stay – as though there was a genuine chance of failure.

And deep down we all knew what failure might look like…

“In just over an hour now,” the man continued, his voice taking on a clipped edge, “our transport vessel will arrive at the compound’s dock. We have taken you directly to the private island where the prison is situated. After today, the only way to leave the project early will be on a Saturday – when you will have some time away from the prison to report back to us and to unwind – this is when you will be given the option whether to leave or to stay. Please understand though, that early leave means zero cash!” He paused briefly to allow that part to sink in, before continuing on;

“During the week, there is very little that our guards can do to get you out of there unless, of course, the circumstances are extreme. By this I mean that our prisoners will be severely punished if they break any of the strict rules laid out to them prior to starting the project in terms of causing harm to any of you. But right now, I recommend that you use this quiet time wisely. Return to your temporary quarters if you need rest. Freshen up. Mentally prepare yourselves. Because soon, there’s no more waiting around. No more chats. No more practice runs.”

He paused, letting that sink in.

“You’ll be introduced to the inmates and will be settled in your permanent cells by nightfall.”

A final beat passed before he gave a nod, then turned and strode off the platform again, leaving a trail of silence in his wake without another word…

“That was intense!” I breathed out to Cara, who was watching the man leave through the door.

The room erupted into hushed chatter almost immediately after he left - everyone speaking at once, everyone suddenly realizing that this was it. No more theory. No more speculation. The boat was approaching our fate.

“We should go,” Cara said beside me, already rising to her feet and tugging on my sleeve. “Come on, before it gets too crowded in the hallway.”

I followed her numbly, like my body had gone on autopilot, legs moving without needing my permission.

Once we reached the room we had been in previously, I let the door shut behind us before finally collapsing down onto the small bed, the thin mattress creaking under my weight.

Cara tossed her papers onto her own bed. “You should try and nap again for a bit,” she said over her shoulder. “Even if it’s just closing your eyes for the hour. You still look exhausted.”

“I feel like I’ve been awake for three years,” I groaned, rolling onto my side in agreement.

“Yeah, just try. I’ll touch up your bruise before we leave here, too,” she reminded me, as I allowed my heavy lids to weigh down.

I closed my eyes, but sleep felt like a joke. My mind was still buzzing, still spinning around the name Coban Santorelli like it was some curse whispered in the dark.

He didn’t feel real to me.

Not yet.

But amongst my thoughts, there was always another whisper… twenty-five thousand dollars.

That was the hefty reward for surviving a stranger. A dangerous one. Someone with bare hands big enough to probably snap a neck like a twig.

And I was going to be locked in a cell with him by tonight, praying that he doesn’t just decide to end my little life in under twenty-four hours.

I just lay there, my breathing steady, and the gentle rocking of the ship offering some form of comfort as I allowed time to pass, unsure after a while how long it had actually been.

“Here,” Cara said gently a little while later, nudging me upright as I grumbled but complied.

I watched as she pulled open the small compact concealer kit from before, dabbing the fresh layer on beneath my eye, her touch careful and practiced. “I don’t think it will ever be totally invisible until it starts to heal, but it looks a lot better with it less fresh.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, blinking up at her. “How are you so calm right now?”

She smiled softly, even though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Because I’ve already accepted my decision. There’s no going back now. Might as well get through it for the cash.”

She’s right.

“How long do you think we have?” I questioned, before a sharp whistle rang out from the corridor in response.

My eyes widened, as we both stood alert, before hearing a man’s voice bellow over and over again:

“Docking in five minutes, ladies, get ready!”

Shit, it’s happening now…