Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“What’s at stake?” I growl. “I am the one who has served seven years in this fucking hellhole. I am the one wearing chains and watching my fucking back. Don’t tell me that I don’t understand what’s at stake. So find another way.”
“Stone—”
“Hear me, Wentworth. What happened that night is my business. Not yours, not the fucking prosecution’s, and not some fucking judge’s. I did what I had to do, and I will protect that any way I can, even if it means dying within these goddamn walls. So find. Another. Fucking. Way.”
Charles leans back in his chair, running his hand through his graying hair as he takes slow, calming breaths. “I should have known how this was going to go,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how many lives you’ve ruined by your lack of cooperation? The kind of threats my wife gets daily? Or how my children are harassed at school because their father represents a man like you?”
I lean forward, making sure he truly hears me. “This is on you, Charles. You saw the opportunity to take on a case that was getting international headlines. You wanted the worldwide exposure. And you inserted yourself where you didn’t belong. What’s happening to your family now is unfortunate, but that’s not on me.”
Charles stands, letting out a heavy sigh before stepping closer and bracing his fists on the table in front of me. He’s trying to intimidate me again, but he should know better by now. “You’re going to rot in here, Blackthorne. There’s only so much help my team can offer you, but without your cooperation, you’re willingly heading to the electric chair.”
I hold his stare, watching as he slowly recoils, realizing he has gotten way too close. He knows damn well just how quickly I could snap his neck. After all, he was the one who got dragged down here three years ago when another inmate wanted to prove just how fucking tough he was with the shiv he’d made out of broken glass and toilet paper. It didn’t bode well for him . . . or his neck.
Like I said, I’m not out here asking for trouble, but if it comes my way, I’ll be damned if I don’t handle it.
“Careful now, Charles. You’re going to want to back up.”
He clenches his jaw and backs up a few steps, turning to pace the small conference room. “Alright, here’s what’s going to happen,” he tells me after a brief pause. “Whether you like it or not, you need to get the public vote. You need the world on your side, and I don’t give a shit if you have to portray a wronged, broken man in order to do it. I have organized an interview for next week. A journalist from Pulse Media will conduct a full interview along with a small camera crew, and I fully expect your complete cooperation with her team. They will be here for the day, and you will give them everything they ask for. Shed a fucking tear for all I care, but you will come out of this with the public vote.”
I gape at him. He’s out of his fucking mind if he thinks I’m about to indulge in this bullshit.
“No.”
“Unfortunately for you, you don’t have a say in the matter. You want to walk free of this place and wipe your hands clean, then you’ll do it. You’ll smile when you need to smile, talk about how hard life has been behind bars, how you’ve been the victim of this horrible crime, and how you’re ready to start fighting for justice and those who have been wronged by the judicial system. You are going to paint yourself as the fucking poster boy for innocence. You are going to flirt with the camera and win over the hearts of every woman in the country, and you will do it without complaint. Is that clear?”
A scoff tears from the back of my throat, and I slowly stand, watching his face fall as I tower over him. “Let me be clear,” I growl, and he grips his trembling hands together to steady them. “I’m not doing some bullshit interview. I’m not putting on some fucking show. And I’m not letting you exploit my story for ratings. If that’s not something you can abide by, then perhaps it’s time I show you exactly what happens when my wishes are not met.”
Charles holds my stare, his whole body now quivering as he scrambles for a pile of paperwork on the table—a pile I hadn’t even noticed was there. “GUARDS!” he calls out, his voice trembling. “We’re done here.”
And with that, six guards rush into the room, four of them grabbing me as though I’m a threat to my lawyer’s life. Although, I suppose that’s exactly what I am, but damn, give a man the benefit of the doubt, right? I don’t kill innocent people, not that anyone here would know that. And Charles, as much as I despise the little cockroach, there’s no blood on his hands.