Page 11 of Sin

I had a chance to be free again. And there wasn’t a chance in Hell I wasn’t going to take that risk.

Chapter Four

You had me

By the time dawn broke the following morning, I was meeting with President Osborne.

This time, she was waiting in one of the visiting rooms, her bodyguards standing watch in the corners of the room. Today, she wore a gray pantsuit with a cream blouse and shoes. Her hair was in a loose ponytail and she’d kept her makeup simple.

She studied me as two prison officers took their assigned spots just outside the door—not Mike or his buddies though. I hadn’t seen any sign of them since that night—and I accepted the seat across the small table in front of her.

I didn’t speak at first, examining her just as thoroughly as she seemed to be doing to me.

“I assume you’ve come to a decision,” she finally said, breaking through the quiet.

“I think we both know I was always going to say yes.”

She smiled tightly. “Actually, I wasn’t sure what you’d decide. I only hoped.”

“So what do we do now?” I asked, some of my eagerness bleeding into my tone.

“First, you’ll need to go through the exit process. You’ll be given a bag with your belongings, sign some paperwork, and then after one last examination where you’ll have a tracker placed”—I groaned internally at this—“you’ll be released into Mr. Whitmore’s custody.”

All frustration over the tracker vanished. My heart skipped, my hands got all sweaty and gross, and a feeling of what I couldn’t decide was excitement or panic pierced my gut. “London’s coming to get me?”

“Yes, we wanted to be prepared, on the chance you agreed to assist the Legion. So we asked Mr. Whitmore to stand by.” She smirked. “He’s waiting right outside as we speak.”

He was here. London was here.

That feeling from before intensified.

Both. I was definitely feeling both excitement and panic. It was possible I might throw up.

Meeting President Osborne’s steady gaze, I swallowed down all my apprehension. Because this was my chance to get out of here, and fuck anyone who tried to get in my way. “Let’s do this.”

The other inmates gawked, cheered, and cursed me out as I was escorted past them on my way to Processing. There, I was given my clothes, watch, and wallet I’d been booked with.

The clothes hadn’t been washed in the past two years, probably just sitting in a bag this whole time, and smelled stale and slightly musty. My license was expired, though I doubted that was a big concern right now. I wasn’t sure I wanted to drive, considering the last time I’d been in a car, it was with Bennett on our way to stop my dad’s terrorism. And considering how that car ride ended…

I shivered at that memory.

Peeling out of the stiff, scratchy jumpsuit and into my expensive, high-quality clothes could only be described as orgasmic. Though the feeling was dampened when I discovered they wouldn’t work. Not because they smelled like mothballs, but because they were quite literally slipping off my body.

I didn’t think I realized just how much weight I’d lost until I couldn’t keep my old clothes on. It was… a little mortifying, to be truly honest.

So while I could get a belt and make due with looking like a kid playing dress up in their parent’s clothes, I decided to toss the outfit altogether. The prison offered basic clothing to those who needed it upon their release anyway, so I went that route.

The prison clothes weren’t anything special. Just a pair of stiff khaki pants and a black shirt. But having clothes that actually fit me helped me gain some confidence once more.

Feeling slightly more normal again, I let myself be escorted to the warden’s office where I was to fill out my release paperwork and sign my contract with President Osborne. They both waited for me inside, and it definitely felt odd being in the small office stuffed full of officers.

The warden, a small man with graying hair and matching eyebrows, nodded at me as I entered. Next to his massive desk, he looked positively tiny. But I wasn’t fooled into thinking he was weak just because he was small. Even without knowing he had the ability to alter someone’s emotions, the keen twinkle in his eyes would give him away as someone not to be messed with.

There was a reason he was in charge of this prison. He ran a tight ship and didn’t mess around.

I’d only interacted with him a couple times since being incarcerated, so it was odd sitting here while he congratulated me on my impending freedom and went over the rules and regulations I would be required to follow after my release. Things such as how any infractions, big or small, would land me right back in jail. He also gave me information for resources for therapy, job finding, and support groups for ex-convicts.

When President Osborne placed the contract which would bind me to London’s team for the duration of this mission, I felt the weight of her words from the previous night press in on me. But I wasn’t going to do anything that caused London trouble. So I pushed away any lingering concerns and suspicions and signed my name on the dotted line.

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