Chapter Ten
Everest
“So, how are you feeling?” Wilder asks from where he sits on the other side of his desk.
His office is nothing like I would’ve expected.
What we’ve seen of this building so far has been dreary at best, and downright condemnable at worst. I anticipated nothing more than some stained carpets lined by four cinder block walls.
Perhaps there would be a couple filing cabinets behind a secondhand desk just for a little flair.
Boy, was I wrong. Wilder taps his pen impatiently on the glass of a modern tabletop.
His fluffy chair is squeaking incessantly every time he even twitches in it.
I’m seated across from him on a dusky pink, vintage style, velvet sofa that matches the fluff of his chair.
There are photographs all over his office.
Most of them are of him and other faces that I don’t recognize. No filing cabinets. Not a single one.
There’s a long list of ways that I could answer his question, even some ways I want to answer it.
That he’s an absolute psychopath for inventing half of the so-called ‘tests’ we’ve been subjected to, or I’m shocked that Axel and I are both still alive and mostly unscathed, or there are muscles in my body that I didn’t even know existed that now ache incessantly, or I’m splattered in bruises as if they’re paint on a canvas.
I’m exhausted, stressed, lonely, and have barely managed to stay awake long enough in the evenings to write down what we’ve done each day.
Which, let me remind you, is the only reason we even came here in the first place.
I don’t say any of that though. I can’t say any of that.
“Fine,” I answer as I rest my head back against this cozy couch. I know that we’re going to be tossed in cells with the other prisoners very soon, but at least I’ll get to meet with Wilder weekly. I could get used to this sofa. Maybe I should ask him where he got—
“Great! Are you feeling confident about joining the other prisoners in a few days?”
“Confident isn’t the word I would choose to describe how I feel.” I admit as I pick at a string on the hem of my shirt. “Cautious is a better choice.”
Wilder smirks as he scribbles something in his little notebook. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”
“Do you bring people in this way often?” My curiosity demands to know as I stare across the desk at him.
His brows furrow as he continues to write. “Unfortunately, no. This has been quite the experience though. If it ends well, maybe I can convince Maven to let me do it again soon!” He adds with excitement. Of fucking course he had a great time.
“Well, I’ll be sure to be on my best behavior then.
Just for you.“ I reply sarcastically. I know I have a bit of an attitude with him, but I can’t bother to muster up the give-a-fucks to care.
Wilder is a great guy. Outside of this prison I could see us being friends.
Inside it? There are no friends. We’ve spent the last few days with Wilder and Thorne ripping apart years of trust that Axel and I have built.
Feeding us conflicting information, giving one of us advantages over the other in challenges that were grossly unfair, and of course separating us for extended periods of time.
Days. I know we’re about to be separated for weeks though, with little to no communication, so I suppose that’s for the best. This will be the longest amount of time that we’ve gone without seeing one another in years. Possibly our entire lives.
Wilder glances up at me, blinking a couple of times before he turns back to his paper. “The two of you will be meeting with Maven today. Thorne and I won’t be present. It will just be the two of you, with Ollivander and Maven. I suggest you be on your best behavior regardless.”
“I spoke with Ollivander a few times. He was nice.” I say as I shift in my seat. Maybe this couch isn’t so comfortable, after all.
“He’s Maven’s lackey. Everything he does is to benefit or appease him. You’ll never matter to him, and thinking otherwise could put you in a pretty precarious position. I highly suggest that you keep to yourself.“ He says nonchalantly without even glancing up at me.
“Noted…” I reply with an uncertain nod. Wilder has had plenty of warnings and advice to dish out about this place and the people here, but so far, I haven’t found a speck of truth behind a single word of it.
Every person we’ve been in contact with has been nothing but professional and kind.
Would I trust them? Absolutely not, but I’d say the same thing about people I’d just met back home, as well.
Wilders opinions have started to feel orchestrated at this point.
Or personal. Until I’m actually in the prison and have spent more time with other people, I can’t be certain, but something about Wilder just seems… off.
“Great. That’s all for today. I’ll meet with Axel and then I’ll have Thorne escort the two of you over to Maven’s office.” He explains as he gestures to the door. I guess that’s my cue to get the fuck out.
Thorne has been exceptionally quiet the last day or two.
I don’t know if it’s because he has something personal going on or if it’s self-preservation while detaching himself from me.
He was the only person I trusted, and I suppose that him breaking that line of communication could be part of this process.
I would ask Axel if Wilder has been the same way with him, but this is a don’t ask-don’t tell kind of situation.
Even if he remembered that we were best friends long enough to be honest, he probably shouldn’t be.
Thorne opens a door and silently waves us inside. A man, a very beautiful man, sits across the table from us aside an empty seat. He gestures for us to sit on the opposite side from him as the door behind us swings closed with a loud thud, startling me.
“I’m Ollivander. Maven will be joining us shortly,” he explains as he checks his watch. “I’ll be going over a few minor details with you before he comes in to go over some of the more… important things.”
My eyes dart around the office, taking everything in.
The furniture is classy and expensive. An intricately carved mahogany desk with matching shelves behind it.
A leather couch with brass accents to the left and matching arms chairs across from the desk.
The space immediately gives off an overwhelming scent of leather and cigars.
There are an excessive number of doors. A door to the right behind the desk, a door to our left, and the door we just came through. The space doesn’t feel cramped, but everything is placed snugly against the next item in a homey way.
Axel and I both approach the seats with a warranted amount of apprehension.
As far as we knew, we’d already been given all the information we were going to receive.
I don’t know why we’re here or what’s left to know before we’re tossed into cells alongside what’s rumored as some of the countries most feared prisoners, according to Wilde anyway, but whatever we’re here for can’t be good.
He slides identical pieces of paper to each of us.
“These are printouts of everything that we’re discussing today.
You can add these to your personal belongings for your professional use.
You’ll each be meeting with Wilder once a week.
Your first meeting won’t be until sometime after your first full week has concluded, and because of Wilder having to make some schedule adjustments, it could be a few days later.
The day of the week and times for the meetings may vary from week to week for the same reason.
Your guards will be informed of when your appointment is each week.
Unfortunately, for your mental health, it’s required that you meet with him one-on-one.
As you know, Wilder has been monitoring you both for the duration of your stay, and he has deemed it in your best interest to not see each other for the remainder of your time here.
Even if that weren’t the case, it would be incredibly difficult to arrange the two of you visiting one another discreetly, so it wouldn’t have been a common occurrence, anyway.
Wilder believes that it’s more beneficial for the two of you not to depend on each other, and since we value his professional opinion, that means that you will not be in direct contact with one another.
Since you do have relatively intertwined lives, we’ve decided that writing to each other is an acceptable alternative.
However, we aren’t able to arrange that without tipping off other prisoners that you’re receiving some form of special treatment.
You’ll have to find your own… means to communicate with each other the old fashion way. ”
I nearly roll my eyes, because it’s obvious what he means.
We’d have to bribe the guards, which means that Axel won’t be writing to me, because he doesn’t have anything that he’s willing to offer them.
That part doesn’t particularly matter to me.
We weren’t expecting to be able to interact with one another, anyway.