Chapter 32 #2
Jeers rang out across the courtyard as they stepped out of the van, faces popping up in the tiny, barred windows all around them. Omegas of all different shapes and sizes, some pressing their fingers into their mouths to whistle, others making rude or threatening gestures.
Even though he and Taylor were mated, it did very little to dampen the scent of omega pheromones hanging in the air. It was pervasive, sweet and cloying, like rotting fruit, and it actually made his balls shrivel.
He glanced across at Taylor, who was at his side in an instant.
“Well this is fucking oppressive,” Taylor whispered, dropping his head next to Johnny’s ear.
Johnny hummed, squeezing his hand. “What do you expect? They’ve all been put here by the criminal justice system. They hate us.”
“Hey, piggy!” someone called in a sing-song voice. “Coming in so we can watch you squeal?”
“Ignore them,” said the prison guard as she squinted up at the windows. “They always get like this when someone pulls up. Even the bloody postman.”
They were directed through a thick metal door, the deadbolts thunking as it swung open.
“Put your equipment into the lockers,” the warden said. “No offensive weapons or handcuffs inside unless you’re designated staff. Oh, and no alphas past the admin corridor.” The warden’s eyes flicked to Johnny’s neck. “Even mated ones.”
“You okay with that, Sarge?” Taylor said, giving her a pointed look as they dumped their gear.
“She’s got me,” Amil said, coming up behind them. “Besides, she could kick your arses any day of the week.”
Johnny chuckled, relieved that Amil’s protective streak was in full force that morning.
“This way,” the warden said, tapping a key card to a barred door.
They followed her down a series of winding corridors, the brown linoleum floors and dark wood doing nothing to make the place look less unwelcoming. The place stank of damp concrete and unwashed bodies, even though they were still several more locked gates away from the main bulk of the prison.
The warden’s radio crackled at her hip, and they all moved out the way as others came running past. Someone on the other end of the radio was shouting a series of commands, their voice cracking.
“Assistance—tuna can—improvised weapon—” were the only words Johnny caught, as the warden smiled awkwardly and turned down her radio.
“Happens all the time,” she said, sighing heavily. “Tins, pencils, toothbrushes, you name it. They’ll make a weapon out of it. Ah, here we are.”
She stopped abruptly at another barred door, and Johnny glanced up at a metal sign that read Admin Corridor. There was a long walkway visible through the bars, and it was flanked by multiple offices labelled Court Hearings, Probation and Police Matters.
“Wait here, please,” the warden said, directing them all towards a U-shaped seating area. It was complete with fake lilies in a glass jug and a dog-eared copy of Detention Today on one of the end tables.
“Couldn’t even stoop to a copy of Cosmo,” Taylor said, waggling his eyebrows in Johnny’s direction.
Isla fidgeted in the seat opposite him. “Alright?” Johnny asked.
Isla sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah. Yes, I’m good. Just a little nervous. I want it to go well for him. He was in a really bad place last time. Mentally and physically. Oh Jesus, it can’t get much fucking worse than this.”
Amil leant across and patted the back of her hand. “It’s alright, Sarge. I’m here with you.”
And as Johnny glanced between them, he realised that they were actually a lot closer than either of them let on.
Just then, a door opened into the corridor and three people stepped out. Isla and Amil stood immediately, brushing off their clothes and nodding at each other.
Because there he was. Reuben Atkinson.
He had handcuffs around his wrists, a long chain hanging between them like a fucking dog. He was clutching a drink in a paper cup, sipping from it as a man and a woman gripped both of his shoulders.
Johnny blinked, feeling Taylor tense at his side.
Ru looked… Johnny couldn’t describe it. Strangely normal, for a murderer.
His shaved hair was a dull brown, and he had big, dark eyes that looked unnaturally blank. He was skinny, his bony cheeks and sharp chin giving him a dramatic profile beneath his washed-out skin.
But then he did something odd. Something that made Johnny’s breath catch.
He smiled.
A genuine, warm smile that lit up every inch of his face.
It was directed at Isla, of course, but it made something tug at Johnny’s heart.
Something aching and regretful. He wanted to hate him, truly, but then their eyes met for the briefest of moments, sending a shiver through Johnny’s entire body.
Taylor gripped his hand, bumping him with his knee. Johnny let out a breath, bumping back.
Clearing her throat, Isla smoothed the front of her jeans. “Hello, Ru,” she said, stepping towards the bars.
Ru’s smile brightened. “Hello,” he replied, voice so soft it was almost lost in the hum of the air conditioning. He lifted the paper cup to his lips as if to drink, but then lowered it again. “Would you like a hot chocolate?”
Isla’s hand drifted to Amil’s arm, as though she was steadying herself. “That would be lovely,” she replied, nodding gently. A look of determination pulled across her face as she turned to Johnny and Taylor and said, “See you on the other side?”
Johnny nodded, squeezing Taylor’s hand. “Yeah. See you on the other side.”