Chapter 12 — Torn Between Fear and Fire
Amara
Guard Pike walks out of my cell as I begin to open the letter. I stare down at it, fingers trembling, but my chest is hollow. I’m too numb for fear now—too used to it clawing at my insides to care.
Good morning, little one,
Have you been thinking about what a bad girl you were? You should be. Naughty, naughty—going to the cops. Naughty, naughty—for burning my arm. Write to me today, or I will be paying you a visit. Don’t think I can’t reach you behind those bars. Be my good girl, and I will reward you.
The words smear into a blur as rage surges through me. I crumple the letter in my hand and throw it to the ground. Great. Now I have to write him back. He won’t stop until I do. The last person I want to talk to is the one who made my life hell.
Killian always keeps his promises. If he says he’ll find a way in, he will. Maybe he’s already here—one of the guards, one of the staff. I’ve seen enough to know his reach is endless. The thought of his hand sliding down my face makes bile rise in my throat.
I’ll write him. But fuck his “good girl” games. I’m not his anymore. I don’t want to belong to anyone. I just want to be me—whoever me even is without him.
I don’t remember leaving my cell, or standing in line for food. Suddenly, I’m sitting alone, away from gen pop as usual, staring down at a tray of tasteless sludge. I need strength if I’m ever going to get out of here. Away from him. Away from both of them.
The eggs are bland but not the worst thing I’ve eaten. The toast is dry, no hint of butter. Still, I force it down, chewing mechanically, one bite at a time.
“Hey, new girl!”
I glance up, startled. A woman struts toward me, eyes sharp, grin cocky.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. You too good to talk to us or somethin’?”
“Um… no, I, uh—”
“Well, you ain’t said shit to nobody since you got here. What’s up with that?” She throws her arms out, waiting.
“I’m just shy,” I lie.
“Shy? Girl, how you be shy in prison?” She laughs, loud and brash.
“I don’t know…”
She smirks. “Well, you best start makin’ friends. You’re gonna need ’em in here, virgin.”
She skips off to her table, her group of friends bursting into giggles. Virgin? What the hell makes her think that? I roll my eyes and shake my head. Yeah, look at the circus freak over here. If I make friends, they’ll just get caught in my mess. I’m a death sentence to anyone who gets close.
I shove my tray away. Just as I stand, a female guard approaches.
“The Warden is requesting to see you, inmate. Come with me.”
Perfect. More drama. Just what I needed. I’d almost forgotten I told him who my father was. What now? DNA proof? Blood on the desk?
I follow her down the corridor, my eyes drifting to the bounce of her blonde ponytail. She’s tall, slim—pretty for a guard. Not many female staff around here. Probably for good reason.
We stop at the door. My heart pounds as I try to steel myself. Well, Amara, this can’t be worse than this morning. Deep breath. Let’s get it over with.
I knock softly, then peek my head inside. Light glints off the sleek gray walls. A candle flickers on a corner shelf, the flame bending in the draft. He’s behind his desk, piles of folders stacked neatly beside him. He swivels in his chair, facing me, and my breath catches.
He looks devastating. His dark hair is pulled back, one rebellious strand falling across his face. A red suit coat over a black shirt—two buttons undone, teasing a glimpse of chest. His eyes—those green embers laced with hazel—burn hotter than fire.
God help me, he’s beautiful. Just one look and my body betrays me, aching for him like a fool.
“Come in, come in,” he says, that slow smile spreading across his face.
I close the door carefully behind me. Deep breath, Amara. Get a grip. Tell him you’re not interested. Tell him you’re not his kitten. Tell him you don’t want him to rip your clothes off with his teeth. Tell him you don’t lie awake at night wondering how his lips would taste, how his hands would feel, how his voice would sound saying your name.
Tell him. Lie if you have to.
But as his gaze locks on mine, I already know—I won’t say a damn thing.