The Prison Project

Chapter 47 – Mind Reader

Margot’s POV

The sounds were low at first – mutters, curses, the occasional shuffle of fabric. The kind of background noise you could almost mistake for something mundane if you didn’t know better.

But I knew better.

Their backs were to me, wide and blocking most of my view, but even with the book still clutched in my lap, tilted just enough to keep up appearances, I could tell something was being divided.

Small items. Quick movements. Bags – plastic ones – rustling with urgency.

Montel’s voice broke through the silence first after a few minutes. “Who needs it today? I’ll do the rounds.”

Çoban didn’t look at him right away. He seemed distracted — like he was doing calculations in his head.

“I’ll write a list,” he said finally, his voice as level as ever. “Don’t give without cash, you know the drill.” But then he suddenly turned.

And his eyes landed directly on me.

Shit.

The contact was brief – only a few seconds – but I felt the force of it like a slap to the face. His brows pulled slightly inward. Not angry. Not yet. But assessing. Displeased to have caught me ogling the pair.

He didn’t speak.

Instead, he lifted two fingers and flicked them downward – a silent command.

Eyes. Down.

I snapped my gaze back to the book so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.

My heart slammed into my ribs over and over again.

I couldn’t remember what it felt like to have a resting heart rate anymore…

How long did he think I’d been watching them? Could I pass it off as just a quick glance up? Nah… he knew… he always knew…

He hadn’t yelled at me though. Hadn’t made a scene. But that motion, that glare, was sharper than any other threat he could have gave me.

Because it said one thing very clearly: I saw you. Don’t make me say it again.

I blinked rapidly, pretending to read as if I could somehow erase the moment. But the words on the page swam in front of my eyes. The vampire, the thunderstorm, the hidden truth it was all gone. Erased by the anxiety coiled tight in my gut like a snake trapped under my flesh.

The room continued to move around me. Montel said something I didn’t catch. Çoban replied in low, hushed tones. A drawer opened, then shut. Something was zipped. Passed between hands.

I didn’t dare look up.

Whatever this exchange was, it wasn’t for me to know. That much was obvious. And I wasn’t stupid enough to test my luck with him again.

Montel stayed in the room for maybe thirty minutes total?

Thirty long, uncomfortable minutes of pretending to read, of counting words, of wondering what the hell they were dealing with – and how dangerous it actually was.

Eventually, I heard Montel give a short grunt, followed by Çoban’s muttered reply.

“See you later.”

The door clicked shut.

But I still didn’t look up. I didn’t dare.

Not until Çoban spoke – his voice suddenly clear, cutting through the silence like a blade dipped in sarcasm.

“I know you haven’t been reading that same page over and over again for thirty minutes,” he drawled, his tone mocking.

My stomach clenched.

“Maybe try turning the page every once in a while next time,” he added. “Might make your snooping a little more convincing, Bella.” Busted by him again.

I was caught. He could see right through the facade.

I let out a long sigh, lowering the book slowly as I admitted, “I know… you’re right. I’m sorry.”

The apology fell out of me without defense – raw, honest, tired now.

To my surprise, he didn’t mock me for it, or become angry either.

He actually chuckled – low and amused as he stepped across the room, shaking his head like I was a mildly annoying pet who’d finally learned a new trick.

“See?” he said. “You’ve learned to stop lying to me already.”

He sounded almost proud.

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

I chewed on the inside of my lip, trying to decipher what this new tone meant. If it was another mind game, or if somehow – I’d actually managed to please him a little. Not by pretending or obeying, but by simply fessing up and telling the truth.

By giving up the act…

Maybe it made me predictable. Or maybe it made me safer?

I folded the corner of the page – not that I needed a marker, I hadn’t moved from that damn paragraph in ages and set the book down carefully on the desk. My fingertips lingered on the cover for a second too long.

I missed the escape already.

Çoban sat back on the bed, watching me.

There was a flicker of something different in his gaze now. Still guarded. Still dangerous. But also… calculating.

“Curiosity’s a risky habit in a place like this,” he said finally, as if warning me. “Gets people in trouble.”

I nodded, slowly. “I understand.”

He tilted his head, studying me again – like he was still figuring out what I was made of. “Do you?”

I hesitated. “I’m learning… it’s all just so new to me,” I whispered back.

That seemed to amuse him again, because the smallest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Then he leaned back against the mattress, arms folded behind his head like a king returned to his throne,

“You stare too often,” he said. “You watch too much. Think too much. You don’t want to be the kind of girl who gets noticed for doing that around here.”

I bristled at that not because he was wrong, but because of how right he was.

Still, I couldn’t help myself.

“The laundry,” I reminded him gently, seeing his eyes close over and suddenly worrying that he had forgotten.

Or maybe it was because I was actually really hungry for once? Counting down the damn seconds before we could go eat something again!

“Someone’s really hungry then? Because I know you don’t give a shit about that laundry,” Çoban stated, and I suddenly began to panic as though the man could literally see right into my brain.

Was I that obvious all the time? Or was he just incredibly smart and good at reading people?!

“Ahhh… come on then, Bella, let’s go sort it out,” He groaned, since I didn’t come up with a response quick enough for him, as he forced himself back up onto his feet – glancing at me to do the same.

Which I did.

“How do you do that?” I whisper, following him out of the room and towards the laundry door.

My soft voice caused him to slow his steps, allowing me to catch up enough so that he could see me beside him.

“What?” He asked quickly, almost impatiently.

“Read my thoughts? You do it a lot?!” I explain, as his eyes squint to see whether or not I was trying to be funny.

But I wasn’t. I seriously couldn’t wrap my head around the talent.

“I can see right through people… in my line of business outside of here, you have to, or you won’t survive.” He nodded once, before turning to push open the laundry room door – taking us both inside.

He has to?

To survive?