“I’m not. It was a horrible accident,” I said, pitching my voice a little higher than normal. “I’m innocent.”
Nic glanced at Eve.
“He fell on her knife fourteen times. A real klutz,” she said.
He snorted. “What is it about the cold season? We get twice the number of murders during those two months.” He shook his head and unlocked the door. “Stand back.”
I moved away and he entered, grabbing the manacles from his belt. A powerful and dizzying sense of déjà vu hit me and I swayed.
“Easy there,” he said, touching my arm to steady me.
I blinked. Just when I thought I understood him, Nic was being…nice? Unexpected.
He manacled my hands behind me and guided me from the cell, resting his hand on my back. I guessed it was safer to have a prisoner in front where you could see them.
As we walked through Fulgor’s streets, fear simmered. To distract myself from my impending ordeal, I said, “I can tell you why there are more murders during the cold season.”
“Is this a confession?” Nic asked.
“No.” One thing Valek had stressed—criminals always pro-claimed their innocence.
“The cold’s the reason,” Eve said. “Her husband warmed himself in another woman’s bed.”
“Not quite,” I said.
“Oh?” Eve asked.
“He was in our bed when he had his…mishap.”
“That is cold,” Nic said.
“But that’s not the reason you have more murders,” I said.
“Do tell,” Nic said. His voice was edged with sarcasm.
I ignored his tone. “Sunlight. Or rather the lack of sunlight. It turns everything gray. It’s depressing and makes you crazy. You’ll do anything for a bit of color.” I had remembered Kade commenting on this phenomenon.
“I don’t think bright red blood is a nice change of pace, but then again my partner insists I’m color-blind,” Nic said. “You are color-blind. No one but you would ever match lime-green pants with an orange shirt,” Eve quipped.
We remained silent until we reached the outer gates of Wirral. Even though I had been there before, the prison’s presence hit me like a physical blow to my guts. I blanched and skidded to a stop.
“I hope you’re not one of those people who go crazy with a lack of sunlight,” Nic said. “Because there’s no sunlight in there.” He studied me.
No need to act, I let my fear show. “He killed himself,” I whispered.
Eve raised an eyebrow. “Fourteen times?”
“He had bad aim.”
Nic laughed. “First time I’ve heard that one!” He tugged me into motion.
As we drew closer, I asked Nic, “Is everyone in there for life?”
“No. But some are serving life on the installment plan.” He noticed my confusion. “They keep getting into trouble and coming back.”
The officers at the gate scanned the papers Eve handed them. One of them scrawled a signature and I was officially delivered to Wirral.
“Good luck, Rhea. I hope you survive,” Nic said as a female CO led me inside.
I thought I was scared before, but entering the prison created a whole new level of panic and fear. It had been easy to plan this when I was comfortable and free. Valek had been right, actual experience was another story entirely.
Taken to a bare room, the CO unlocked the manacles and ordered me to strip. She stayed and watched. Her face remained impassive as I removed the jumper.
“Undergarments, too,” she ordered.
I added them to the pile. She kicked them aside. “Turn around, lean on the wall with your hands on the blue prints and your feet on the yellow prints on the floor. That position is called Secured. Remember it. The guards will frequently order you to assume it.”
The blue prints were above my head and the yellow foot-shaped ones were spread far apart. When I did as instructed, I felt more vulnerable and helpless than when Devlen had chained me up. At least then, I had clothes on. And I would rather endure the pain of a pressure point than be strip-searched ever again. The woman’s rough hands left no part of my body untouched. Her fingers found holes and creases I didn’t even know I had, and thoroughly explored the ones I was well aware of until they ached.
A knock stopped the search. Thank fate.
“Don’t move,” she ordered.
Voices and a bang. Then another set of hands was on me, rougher than the first. Alarmed, I looked over my shoulder and protested. “She already—”
“Shut up and listen.” Her fingers dug into my skin. “We’re in charge. You have no rights. You gave all that up when you murdered your husband. So if we want to recheck a search, you’ll stand there until we’re satisfied. Even if it takes us twenty times.”
I bit my lip as I was searched again. When she finished, she tossed a gray prison jumper at me. “Get dressed.”
All my own clothes were gone. My lock picks and few other tools hidden inside the fabric gone with them. She hadn’t given me undergarments and I was smart enough not to ask.
When I finished, she studied me. Her light brown hair had been twisted back into a knot. She had dark brown eyes and a lean build.
“I’m Lieutenant Cicek. You’ve been assigned to my block. This means I decide everything for you. When you eat, when you sleep, when you work and when you get fresh air. Keep me happy and you’ll do well. Cause trouble and you’ll end up in the SMU with Lieutenant Finn. I’m an indulgent mother compared to him.”
The LT led me through a maze of doors and lantern-lit corridors until we reached a set of metal doors. She unlocked them with a flourish and revealed a long block of cells. “Welcome to the Black Widows’ Wing. Your home for the rest of your life.” Nodding to the correctional officer who sat at a utilitarian metal desk, Cicek pulled me along.
The dank smell of body odor and fear hung in the air and clung to me as I followed the LT down the row. The other prisoners watched me through their bars but didn’t make a sound.
“We like it quiet in here,” the LT explained. “Outside this wing you can scream all you want, but if you want the privilege of fresh air, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
She stopped and opened the fourth cell on the right. Pushing me inside, she slammed the door. After the metallic echoes died, the silence rushed in.
I needed to endure the rest of the day to orient myself and plan. Valek and I had chosen my crime with care. Murderers were housed in two adjacent wings—one for men, the other for women—and one floor above the SMU. However, with all the turns and stairs to arrive at my cell, I needed to be certain they hadn’t changed the location. And I needed to make sure the COs’ shifts remained the same. Hopefully, the LT would leave tonight. Cicek appeared way too competent for my comfort.
Lunch was the first time I was allowed to leave my cell. LT Cicek and two other COs escorted all of us—a dozen Black Widows—to the dining hall. The place reeked with an unidentifiable stench that overpowered my senses and made me gag. I forced myself to eat to keep up my strength.
After the meal, we were marched down four flights of stairs to the exercise yard. I scanned the square space. It was nestled in the center of the prison. Almost sheer walls surrounded it. High above, a patch of blue sky let dim sunlight reflect down, casting shadows on what appeared to be a training course with obstacles, weights, a running track and an open area.
As my fellow Black Widows hurried to meet up with friends, Cicek pointed out the armed COs standing up on the third floor balconies. “They have crossbows and tend to shoot first and don’t bother to ask questions.”
I noticed COs stationed in the yard didn’t have any weapons. And now that I thought about it, the LT was unarmed, as well. I asked her why.
Her face hardened. “Even though it’s unlikely, there’s a slim chance one of the inmates could take our weapons. We’re trained to handle ourselves without weapons. Remember that.”
Her gaze drilled into me until I nodded. She waved over one of the COs in the yard. His dark skin resembled the Sandseed Clan members, and his bald head reminded me of Moon Man, Yelena’s Story Weaver. Moon Man had died during the Warper Battle. A sudden wish for Devlen’s comforting presence washed over me.