My mind’s eye dwells too long on Paxton’s face, combing the details I’ve long since memorized. I don’t know why he’s important to me—stranger as he is to me now. But any time a picture of him graces my media feed, I stare at the friend I almost got to keep, and wish our fathers hadn’t taken him away from me when we were too little to know how to fight for something as important as friendship.
I hope he’s well. I always hope that for him. He’ll be a good king, the kind we need after living under Regis, who caters to the wealthy and cares more about the bottom line than the people striving to build it up.
Sloan taps his fingers on the tabletop. “The big sync your father wants—the two families working together again—it needs to happen now, if we want the king accused of a crime. The best way to get that to go down is a quid pro quo. It has to be big.”
I swallow hard. “King Regis wants a photo of me in here. Daddy said he needs it for the papers to tout how grand a place Prigham’s is. That’s our dangling carrot.”
Sloan considers my suggestion. “That’s our end of it, sure, but what’s the crime we’re miring him in? Regis has to do something bigger than looking the other way on a few shipments, which is what your father’s aiming to get out of the trade. That won’t be enough for hard jail time. We need something airtight that could sink the king in court. Something big.”
I lock eyes with Sloan as a prickle excites my skin. “I’ve got it. The king’s signature is going to have to be on a shipment. Something concrete to nail the king for working with Daddy. Not just him looking the other way, but him putting his name on it and pushing the goods through. Daddy might need to work with Uncle Antoni on this one. I don’t want to go through all this for illegal software or something. It needs to be dangerous and damaging. Bonus points if it’s also scandalous. Uncle Antoni is the one who can get his hands on drugs. There’s no way to put a positive spin on being a drug lord.”
Sloan’s hand covers mine, and it looks like he’s in physical pain. “You realize that if the king goes down for some deal with the family, your father’s going to get charged for more time, too. That’s going on your tab. When Prince Paxton comes to power, he might throw out the Sins of the Father bill, but he’s not going to set you all free. He’d have to give the money from the treasury back and hunt down the actual criminals. That’s not going to happen, bunny.”
I turn my palm so I can squeeze his hand, holding on tight to the connection I will never stop needing. “We both know there’s a slim chance I’ll ever get out of here. My only ticket out is dismantling the entire system. Then Daddy can at least stop adding time to my sentence.”
Sloan closes his eyes as if he’s in agony. “Nothing’s the same without you. Even my magic feels off. My senses aren’t as sharp. My reactions feel slower.” Sloan wraps his arms around me again, holding me tighter than a comforting hug has a right to be. But this embrace isn’t for warm wishes; it’s sheer desperation that drives it. “I’ll get you out, even if Prince Paxton comes to power and decides not to overturn the Sins of the Father bill that got you locked up in here. But let’s not go down the escape route before Regis gets sent to prison. Deal? Hopefully a change in rulers will solve it all.”
It’s a naïve wish, but it’s the thing we cling to when the future is too dark to inspect hope too closely.
I grip my best friend in the world, finally letting myself feel how lost I’ve been without him to tether me to the spot. “You won’t let me rot in this place?”
“Never. Busting you out of here is a far sight easier than learning how to bake my own damn strawberry tarts. You know I can’t cook.”
I snigger into his shoulder. “I love you so much; I’d give up all my stilettos for you.”
“I love you so much, I’d wear your stilettos if it’d make you laugh.”
The image does indeed make me giggle, and finally, I don’t feel so hopelessly homeless. I needed so much of this, so much of myself that I assumed I’d have to cut off in order to survive. If your heart’s broken, doing away with the organ altogether often seems the logical way to go.
But Sloan gives me back to myself, and I love him for it.
Sloan traces a line down my cheek. “You’re killing me with this. These marks are… The guard said you did this to yourself?”
“Cheaper than therapy,” I joke, but the levity falls flat.
“Don’t.” He gnaws on his lower lip as he examines the damage up close. “Don’t do this to me. This hurts me, bunny.” And I can see he truly means it. My pain wounds him.
I don’t want that.
When the bell rings to announce visitation hours are over, the air stales in my lungs and I cling tighter. I grip my true family as tight as mercy will allow before I’m dragged away.
23
Intervention
I know Cass loathes it when I pace, but I can’t help it. I’m on a roll. “So the goal is to do what Charlotte set out to accomplish: set us all free. Sloan’s going to help us by dirtying the deal the king’s going to make with my dad, which he’ll do in exchange for a picture of me in my jumpsuit. So when the king gets caught, he’ll have to decide if he’s going to give up the throne and go to jail himself, or if he’ll force Prince Paxton into Prigham’s to pay for his crimes.”
When there’s no reaction from my three cellmates, I start gesturing with my hands in our quaint living space.
“Obviously Regis would never dream of sending his only son to Prigham’s. He’d have to serve the time himself, which would mean the crown is passed down to Paxton. A change in regime could mean a change in the worst, cruelest bill ever formed.”
Cass’ crossed arms tell me I haven’t won her over yet. “And if Prince Paxton doesn’t throw out the Sins of the Father bill? If the world keeps on spinning in this broken way? Then what?”
My voice turns dark as my fists clench. “He’s a good person; that much, I know. When Prince Paxton is in power, he’ll be compassionate enough to change the law. He’s always been a man of the people.”
Gray rubs out a kink on his shoulder. They worked us real hard tonight during brick detail, and we’re all still feeling it. “So, we’re playing the long game with this.”
“If we have to. I mean, it’s not crazy long. The quid pro quo shouldn’t take too long. Then however long the trial takes. There’s the sentencing of King Regis, and the crowning of Paxton. Then he’ll get settled into his new role, and I’m sure not long after that, he’ll shut down the Sins of the Father bill. He probably won’t be able to set us all free, but no one else will be sent here.”
I’m more than a little discouraged that they’re not seeing the hope in this plan.
Charlotte’s been quiet, watching me move listlessly back and forth along the space between the two bunks. She seems to be puzzling things out in silence. I feel her eyes on me, the wheels turning while she keeps it all tucked inside.
“Would you stop pacing?” Cass blurts out after a few beats of silence.
I acquiesce, but compensate by tugging on my fingers. “Well, I thought it was a good idea. Anybody else got a plan?”
Gray pinches the bridge of his nose, sitting on his mattress. It’s then I realize he hasn’t made eye contact in a while. “It’s a brilliant plan, but we’re in a weird headspace right now. Everyone, sit on down. We need to talk about where they took the three of us this morning.”
Cass jumps up to her bunk in a manner so agile and graceful, it makes me question if I’ve been walking my whole life like a three-legged elephant. Charlotte situates herself on her own mattress, quiet and serene with her legs crossed.
I’m too keyed up to sit, so I wander between the two bedframes. “Oh, right. I forgot. The guards took you somewhere partway through sewing detail. I got sidetracked with the talk of King Regis and all that. Where did you all go?” It seems like days ago that I ate lunch alone, but only a few hours have passed.
Now Gray’s making eye contact, just not with me. He looks at Cass and
Charlotte, who both turn their chins away, as if shirking some responsibility he now has to deal with.
Gray leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The guards took us to solitary.”
Dread hits my veins like lightning. I can’t bear to think of Charlotte locked in the small room. None of them, really. “What? Are you serious? You were in solitary for… for two hours?” My nose scrunches. “They do terms that short? What were you in trouble for?”
Gray’s shoulders are hunched as he studies his fingers. “Whenever someone at Prigham’s has a disturbing incident, that inmate’s cellmates are made aware of it. That way, they know what they’re dealing with, who they’re sleeping near, and they have the option of switching out.” He pauses for too long, as if hoping Cass or Charlotte will speak up and fill in the blanks. “They took us to your solitary cell so we could see how you spent your time when you were locked in there.”
A new kind of angst crawls in my gut. It’s dread mingled with shame. “Oh.” Then trepidation ratchets up the tugging on my fingers. “Is that what you’re all afraid to tell me? You’ve requested to be reassigned?” I choke on the last syllable, unable to fathom something so horrible.
We need each other. We have a plan now.
“No,” Cass reassures me in as gentle a voice as she can muster. She even leans a little toward me from her perch above. “We’re in this. We’re with you. But Gray, Charlotte and I were talking, and maybe we’ve gone about this all wrong. This place tricks you into thinking you understand someone just because we have the shared experience of being at Prigham’s. But the truth is that we barely know each other.” Her eyes flick to me. “We shouldn’t expect you to lean on us when we haven’t opened ourselves up to you.”
Charlotte motions for me to sit beside her. “So that’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to have the hard conversations, so when you feel the need to vent, you don’t have to cut open your skin and paint the walls with your blood. You can just like, talk to us.”
My mouth firms, my cheeks hot with chagrin. “I’m not crazy. I don’t care what you saw.”
Gray holds up his hands. “No one thinks you’re crazy. We do think you went through acclimation too quick, and you’ve had it harder in here than most, being who your dad is. And we know there’s a long road ahead of us, so best deal with things now. That way, nothing slows us down when we’re in the thick of the action.”
It’s practical, but I hate it. They weren’t supposed to see that room. I’m indignant that the guards would rat me out like that, though perhaps I should’ve expected as much.
Cass hops down from her bunk so she can see us all. Or maybe so we can see her. Though, as visible as she is to us, a veil goes over her eyes as she speaks. “I’ll start. I’m in here because my mum robbed a jewelry store. We weren’t poor. Not well off, but we were fine. She has a thing for sparkly treasures that aren’t hers. Good at hiding, the both of us.”
It’s her turn to fidget, since I’ve gone still. Cass straightens her white tank top, resituating the top half of her uniform that dangles around her waist, like mine. She tugs at the hem and loops her thumb through the shoulder, playing out her nerves on the material, uncomfortable at being so exposed.
“Be brave,” Charlotte encourages.
I watch Cass draw in a steadying breath. “Anyway, Mum was caught, and they didn’t just find the things she’d stolen that night, but loads more. Unsolved heists from months and years ago finally snapped into place, and they nailed her for every one of them.” She swallows hard. “My mum is the Diamond Street Burglar.”
All of our eyes widen, so I know I’m not the last to hear this bit of information she’s kept tight to her vest.
I clear my throat. “They tried to pin some of those robberies on us.”
Cass shrugs with no attitude, as if to say, “Sounds about right.”
Gray shakes his head. “That’s heavy, Cass. I’m sorry.”
It’s good to know I’m not the only one in the dark about her life outside of Prigham’s. Gray has known Cass a lot longer, and she’s only just now opening up. I guess this conversation is overdue.
Cass is solemn, like she’s struggling not to cry, even though her pride will never come close to letting her. “I’ve never so much as stolen a pencil, but here I am. Mum gets to attend reformation classes and go about her life. You know how she paid the fee to get me in here? She pawned some of the things she still had stashed that the cops hadn’t found.” Cass conjures up a wry snort. “When you pay government bills with stolen money, reformation classes are kind of a joke.”
Charlotte’s shock turns calculating, and I can tell there are things going on of which I’m not aware. “How… How did your mum get away with it all?”
It’s not what I expect her to ask. I mean, the fact that Charlotte has any questions about her girlfriend’s backstory is a shock to me. I would have thought she knew everything about Cass by now. They’re inseparable.
Cass doesn’t take offense to the left-field question. “No idea. Just a knack for it, I guess. Our hide-and-go-seek games when I was younger were epic.” Cass flips her midnight-hued hair over her shoulder, and then pulls it up into her fist. “Mum always had blueprints of buildings spread out on the table at night, after she thought I’d gone to bed. When I moved out, I thought that would be the end of it. I wouldn’t have to live in a house with stolen treasures anymore. I didn’t have to worry that the cops would bust down the door at any moment. I didn’t think she’d turn on me like this.” She offers up a dry smile. “I don’t think any of us did.”
The silence pings in the air, letting us know that Cass has officially finished her turn.
Charlotte takes up the mantle next with a matter-of-fact, “My mum murdered my brother. How about you, Gray? What are you in for?”
24
Confessions of Non-Criminals
Murder is the biggest controversy regarding the Sins of the Father bill. Because sure, society can handle burglars roaming about because they go to reformation classes, but murderers? They’re still allowed to be free if they have a child of age they can push their crimes on, and deep enough pockets to line the treasury.
Charlotte’s mum murdered her brother. Even in here, where we know we aren’t guilty of the crimes put on our heads, manslaughter carries a stigma.
And she announces it so simply. Just like that, like there’s no follow-up needed.
Finally, Gray leans forward. “Could you expand on that?”
Charlotte picks at her nails. Apparently, we’re all fidgety tonight. “She had flashes, she called them. Little sparks of an idea, and if she didn’t act on it, she’d get real agitated. Like, she’d tear up an entire loaf of bread, and then hide the bits in every bowl in the house. Silly things like that.”
I steel my stomach for this, hoping fruitlessly that the story doesn’t actually end up with the murder of Charlotte’s brother. I’m not sure any of us are breathing. For how close Cass and Charlotte are, the stunned look on Cass’ face tells me there are things no one in Prigham’s ever deigns to discuss.
“Her listlessness never bothered me. I mean, we all have our quirks. But one time, she got a flash that agitated her to the point where she hid all the forks. It was a month of weird stuff like that. Hid the forks, bought loads of shovels and made a fence for our yard out of them, sold all the chairs in the house so there was nowhere to sit.
“When my brother complained, she made him some tea—something he didn’t need a fork to enjoy.” Charlotte glances down at her fingers, and finally, a hitch in her breath shows me she’s affected. “That’s when I got my first vision. It wasn’t a flash, like hers. She didn’t always understand hers. They were bits of information that didn’t make much sense. See, Mum needed the answers immediately, and when they didn’t come, she couldn’t handle the not knowing. That’s when she’d get overly restless.”
It’s clear Cass is holding herself back from comforting Charlotte, which might cut
her story shorter than it should be.
Charlotte swallows hard. “My first vision was a whole picture with bits blurred out. While he sipped the tea Mum made him, I saw a vision of my brother dead in his bed, his teacup on his nightstand. I didn’t realize what the vision was trying to tell me until the blurred shape by his door became clear. Mum had put rat poison into his tea. She couldn’t take him asking her vision for answers she didn’t have.”
Cass sits beside Charlotte and threads her fingers through her girlfriend’s. “That’s terrible.”
“That’s when the flashes left my mum completely and went into me. They don’t bother me, though, like they did her. We trust each other—me and my visions. I don’t pressure them to be more than what they are, and they don’t pressure me to solve them unduly.”
None of us knows what to say to that. I’m not sure there is anything that can soothe away the layers of horror we’re trying not to let display on our faces.
“How do we help you?” Gray asks, taking the lead. “Do the visions ever get to be too much?”
Charlotte shrugs, her voice small. “When they do, I tell them, and they let up. So, maybe don’t ask me to solve the puzzle if I can’t. That’s what drove Mum to her madness.”
We all nod, as if taking a solemn vow for the sanity of our dear friend. “We can do that.”
Charlotte twists the skin on her knuckles, mirroring my nervous tick. “The last vision I had that got to be too much was the week leading up to you being sent here,” Charlotte says, finally looking up at me. “I couldn’t see your face, but the second you walked into sewing detail, I knew you were the one I’d been having visions about. You’re going to help set us free. Everyone. Not just the four of us. I don’t know how. I don’t need to know. The vision knows, and I trust it to tell me what I need as I need it, and not a minute sooner.”
Sins of the Father: A Paranormal Prison Romance (Sinfully Sacrified Book 1) Page 17