Chapter 86
Chapter 86
\[BRIAN\]
The prison smells like rust, sweat, and something faintly rotten—like the walls themselves have absorbed decades of violence and regret.
I hate it already.
A guard leads me down a long corridor lined with thick steel bars. The heavy clang of each gate opening and closing echoes through the hall, sharp and final. Every sound here feels louder than it should be. Every step heavier.
None of it bothers me.
Not when I know who I’m here for.
“Five minutes,” the guard mutters as he unlocks the last door and gestures for me to step inside the visitation room.
I don’t respond.
The room is small. Cold. A metal table bolted to the floor with two chairs facing each other. A dull camera sits in the corner, its red light blinking lazily.
I take the chair without being told to.
Then I wait.
The seconds stretch long enough for my thoughts to drift back to Ava lying in that hospital bed. Pale. Fragile. Her hand cold in mine.
The memory tightens something deep in my chest.
The door opens with a loud metallic screech.
Chains rattle before I even see him.
And then Beau Edwards walks in.
Two guards flank him as they guide him toward the chair across from me, the cuffs around his wrists clinking softly with every movement. But the moment his eyes land on me, something ugly curls across his face.
A smile.
Slow.
Mocking.
“Well, well,” he says, settling into the chair like he owns the place. “If it isn’t my good friend.”
His voice carries the same smug arrogance I remember. Prison clearly hasn’t taken that away from him.
The guards remove the restraints from the table but remain standing nearby, watching carefully.
Beau leans back slightly in his chair, studying me like he’s enjoying himself.
“I have to admit,” he continues lazily, “I wasn’t expecting a visit. Especially not from you.”
I don’t speak right away.
I just stare at him.
Because the moment I saw his face, every ounce of restraint I had carefully built on the way here started cracking apart.
He notices.
Of course he does.
Beau has always been good at reading people. It’s part of what made him so dangerous in the first place.
His grin widens slightly.
“So, how’s life, Brian?” he asks casually. “Good? Comfortable? Interesting?”
His eyes scan my face, searching, analyzing.
Then something flickers in them. Satisfaction.
“Hmm,” he hums, tilting his head. “Maybe not that good after all.”
My jaw tightens.
“You look tired,” he continues, the mock sympathy in his voice almost convincing if you didn’t know the kind of monster sitting across from me. “Rough night?”
The metal chair creaks as I lean forward slightly, resting my forearms on the table. The guards behind him shift, watching us more closely now, but neither of us pays them any attention.
“You know exactly why I’m here,” I say quietly.
Beau’s smile returns instantly. Slow. Delighted.
“Do I?”
“Don’t you?”
He chuckles. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Brian. Why don’t you word it out for me? You see, staying at a place like this for so long tends to take a toll on someone’s health. And you know me, I have always been frail. Sick.”
“You don’t look sick.”
“Well,” he says lightly, shrugging his shoulders as much as the cuffs allow, “a man has to find some entertainment wherever he can. Prison life isn’t exactly thrilling.”
“Fine. I’ll cut to the chase. Ava was attacked last night. Are you behind it?”
For a moment, he just looks at me.
Then he laughs.
Not a small laugh. Not a surprised one. A loud, genuine burst of amusement that echoes in the small room. One of the guards shifts uncomfortably behind him.
“Oh, Brian,” he says once he finally calms down, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. “You really came all the way here to ask me that? You think I arranged an attack from inside a prison cell?”
“Why not? You’ve done worse.”
“Maybe,” he says, not even bothering to deny it, a crooked, nasty grin spreading across his face. “But why the hell do you care so much? Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for her.” His eyes drag slowly over my face like he’s enjoying every second of it before he suddenly barks out a laugh. “No fucking way… it’s true, isn’t it? You actually do have a thing for her.”
He leans back in his chair, laughing harder now, the sound rough and mocking.
“Jesus Christ, Brian. And here I was thinking people were joking when I first heard that crap.” He shakes his head, still chuckling under his breath. “You know, for a guy your age, you’ve still got some charm. You should’ve told me about this little obsession of yours earlier. Who knows? Maybe we could’ve bonded over it. Hell, we might’ve even ended up being best friends. I mean, just imagine. While you fucked that young little thing, I could be eating the cunt of that bitch of a mother of hers. And who knows? Maybe we could have switched—”
Before he says something more, I fly out of my chair and punch him really hard.