Page 23 of X's and O's
“We’ll need a few minutes to discuss your case, Mr. Griffin. We’ll be back in a moment.”
I dipped my head respectfully. “Thank you, sir.”
Then came the agonizing wait. The one I hated more than anything else. If anyone spoke to me, I didn’t hear it. Blood pounded in my ears, deafening me to any other noise.
Until the door at the back of the room opened and the four of them returned. They waited until I stood, but this time, there was no keeping the tremble at bay. I dug my fingers into the fabric of my prison jumpsuit and twisted the fabric into a ball.
“Mr. Griffin, we’re approving your release. Congratulations.”
My heart stopped.
Everyone stared at me, waiting for some sort of response.
I had no idea what to say.
Pritchard, standing beside me as my guard, mumbled, “Say thank you.”
“Thank you!” I blurted out. “Shit, thank you. Sorry for swearing, I just…” God, I didn’t want to royally embarrass myself, but there was a lump in my throat, and my eyes burned with an unfamiliar sensation.
I hadn’t cried since I was a kid.
But fuck, if I was going to start again and make a fool out of myself in public, then I couldn’t think of a better day to do it.
Pritchard grinned and shook his keys at me. “Want those cuffs off?”
I held my hands out and let him uncuff me. I would still have to go back to the prison and wait for the official paperwork, but I knew from watching the other guys who’d been paroled, this releasing of the cuffs was something Pritchard always did to guys who’d gotten parole. I was just grateful Saint View Prison wasn’t one of the ones who took months to process releases.
I would be out within twenty-four hours, the prison too understaffed and under resourced to want to keep a paroled prisoner for long.
The cuffs fell away, and I rubbed at my wrists, still not quite believing it was finally all over.
But then I was walking at the back of the pack, no longer one of the ducklings following the guards, even if we were all heading back to the prison vans. I might have still been in orange for another night, but I was getting out.
I was fucking free.
A big body stepped out into the hallway, blocking my exit.
Anger rose inside me as I went eye to eye with War,son of the man who’d sent me to this piece-of-shit prison in the first place.
He wasn’t his father, but I couldn’t help but see Army in his eyes. War looked just like him.
Pritchard glanced in our direction, but War gave him a nod, and Pritchard breathed out heavily. “One minute, War.”
No. No fucking way. “War doesn’t need a minute. I’ve got a prison van to get on.” I tried to move around him, zero interest in whatever he had to say.
War stopped me with a steady hand to my shoulder. “Reaper, just listen to me for a minute, would you?”
He’d used my club name and everything. Fucking asshole.
“To you?” I sneered in his direction as softly as humanly possible, because hell, I didn’t want any of the people who’d just approved my parole to see this. “No. I’m not interested.” I stared down at War’s hand on my chest and felt the red-hot blinding rage I’d felt the night I realized his father had thrown me under the goddamn bus, and let me take the fall for something he’d done.
I tried to rein it in.
This wasn’t who I was anymore.
I dragged my gaze back up to meet War’s.
He sighed, dropping his hand. “I heard what they said, about you only having a week to find yourself somewhere to live. All I wanted to say is that whenever you’re ready, we’re here. You always have a room with us, and a job if you need it too.”
