Page 47 of Whispers of the Dead

Truth be told, since she woke up in my office, anything involving her has become the most interesting part of my otherwise dull, dreadful life. I’ve found myself wandering into the shadows of this cell block to watch her merely exist. My skin becomes electrified at the thought of what I’m about to witness for myself, rather than hearing about it through the grapevine. Watching her, listening to the stories about her antics, it’s become a rare source of amusement in this cesspool.

And today? Well, today is already shaping up to be delightful. I only wish I would have been here earlier towatch all of this unfold in real time. If only I could have seen her throw that bucket. What a sight that must have been.

The scene before me is a mess. One man, Wilkes, is standing inside her cell, drenched and seething, his face a deep shade of red. The source of his misery? Her bucket, no doubt. A fitting insult. His fists clench at his side. His rage pours off him in waves, not at all diminishing with my presence, yet my bet is still on the firecracker. I almost regret making my presence known, because I would have loved to see what she would have done to him.

Inside the cell, Zoey stands tall, all five-foot-seven of her, if I had to guess. Her breath comes out quick and sharp, but her chin lifts in defiance. Even soaked in sweat and exhaustion, she radiates fire.

Beautiful.

“Stupid little—” Wilkes mutters, turning back to face her, like he’s about to storm in further and make a mistake. I’m saving his life, really. Zoey doesn’t need me at all. Still, I can’t turn away.

I lift a lazy hand to stop him in his tracks. “Wilkes, stand down. Let’s not make a spectacle.”

He freezes, but turns to face me. Frustration twists his features. I’ve always thought him to be an ugly excuse for a man, but this look really takes the cake. It finally matches his personality. “She threw?—”

“I see what she threw,” I interrupt. My gaze flicks to the damp floor. “Now, here we are. Shall we handle this with a bit more…finesse?”

Wilkes hesitates and shifts uncomfortably under my gaze. He’s eager for retribution, but he also knows better than to push his luck. Before he can respond, the moment fractures with a low, menacing growl.

Zoey looks at the cell next to her and frowns. Wilkes and I both freeze. The growl is deep and guttural. Zoey’s gazesnaps to my feet and my eyes flick downward when something small and fierce steps out of the darkness.

Lola.

Her stance is firm and her small frame vibrates with tension while she bares her teeth at Wilkes, protecting Zoey. I grin. Well, what have we here? I must not have closed the door behind me in my eagerness to get here.

Zoey’s eyes widen. “Lola?”

The dog’s tail flicks once at the sound of her name, but her growl only deepens when Wilkes shifts on his feet.

I lift a brow. “You afraid of a little dog, Wilkes?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs, but I see the tension in his shoulders. “Boss man doesn’t like her down here, though. He worries the prisoners will hurt her.”

Lola snaps her teeth at him when he moves again, and Wilkes jumps enough to make my grin widen. “She seems to be under the impression the only dangerous one here is you, dear Wilkes. Now why would that be?”

The men in the other cells lose it. Their voices overlap in shouts and laughter. “Holy shit,” Benji wheezes. “This just got better.”

“Smart dog,” the low voice behind me mutters.

“Damn near the best thing I’ve seen all week,” Damon adds. I spare a glance in his direction, wishing I could see the face of the man who gave Greg a black eye. Thanks to Damon, he hasn’t tried coming back in here since. Eugene put him on bathroom duty. Well, Eugene didn’t. I only told Greg that he did. One of the best lies I’ve told.

Zoey’s lips twitch despite the situation. Her body visibly relaxes for the first time since I stepped into her space. Interesting.

“Well, as much fun as this is, we really should move on.” I step forward and gesture for Wilkes to get the hell out, but everyone must take it the wrong way. The other captive menwho were cheering Lola moments before, are now starting their protests with me.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Benji threatens.

“Leave her alone,” Damon growls out, his tone low and dangerous. Interesting. I’d like to put him in a growling competition with Lola.

Cole says nothing at first, but I feel his gaze boring into the back of my head. Then, so low that I almost miss it, “If you hurt her, you’ll regret it.”

Their threats ignite my curiosity. I wonder exactly how far they’ll go to keep her safe. This could be a thrilling little game, and I’ve got nothing else to do today.

I ignore them. Their protests are as expected. Predictable, even. What I care about is how far they’re willing to go. I lock the cell door behind me and turn to face Wilkes. “You’re angry. Well, go on, then. Let’s see how you handle it.”

Zoey’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t flinch. She knows I’m up to something. This intrigues me even more. She already knows me so well. “Eugene won’t like this.”

As if on cue, Lola paws at the bars from the other side.

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