Page 4 of Exile and Embrace

“I understand. I want to thank you for all that you have done over these last few years. If it hadn’t been for your kindness, I would’ve been dead.”

Christian nods and drums his fingers on the wooden table. “Yes, you would. The assassin for the Irish mob is sure to make a lot of enemies. I don’t want to become one of those enemies, but I will if you stay in Tennessee. I will not put my people at risk for the wrath of your father if you decide to hide out here.”

His message comes across loud and clear. If I had any plans to stay in Tennessee, I would be changing them starting right now.

“You don’t need to worry about that. I have no intention of staying. As soon as I get out of here, I’m heading to another state. The same plan I had as when we spoke a week ago.”

“Good.” Christian sits back in his chair, some of the stiffness from his shoulders fading. “This will be my final visit with you. With that comes the reminder that Georgia and Florida do not want you either. An assassin has no business disturbing the peace Jovan, Alessio, and I have worked so hard to create.”

I nod. “I understand. I can assure you that I’ll be heading to the other side of the country.”

“Good. See that it stays that way.”

Christian jerks his chin in the direction of the door.

I dip my head toward him before getting up and raising my joined hands to knock on the door.

It opens a few seconds later, and the guards appear.

Neither guard says anything on the long walk to the infirmary.

Ava is busy, thank fuck, and I finish my shift before being escorted back to my cell.

I suppose whatever bribe the guards would’ve gotten is enough to silence them because they don’t utter a single word.

Good.

We stop outside my cell, and one of the guards takes my cuffs off.

The second they’re off, I rub my wrists, trying to ease away the red marks and the dull throbbing.

The guards exchange a look before stepping back.

Seconds later, a fist collides with my face, sending me stumbling back into the wall.

I groan and push myself upright.

Though I want to fight back against whoever they got to attack me, it’s not worth it. I’m not going to risk getting my sentence extended.

Instead, I put my arms up to protect myself as best as I can and take another punch, this one to the side of the face.

Pain radiates in my cheek. The skin splits open with another punch, blood trickling down my eye and cheek.

As the man takes a step back, the guards disappear.

“Bastards.” I spit a mouthful of blood onto the ground before running my tongue over a cut in my lip.

The man smirks, his beady eyes flashing with amusement, and slams his fist into my gut.

I shove him back a step as other inmates start to gather around. The last thing I need is for this to turn into a situation where the other guys think this is a free for all.

The red panic button glows on the wall, but I ignore it. If that button is pressed, the beating is only worse the next time.

The other prisoners don’t take too kindly to snitches here.

After another punch to my gut, leaving me feeling like I’m going to throw up, the man takes a step back.

He reaches up to wipe some of the sweat from his forehead.

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