Zero
2½ years ago
They say you only fall in love once.
They never say how much it hurts.
Love.It sucks.
And when you lose it, like really lose it—and all other forms of love—you end up in a place where footsteps echo down a concrete corridor, where chains clink and guards keep that wary step back.
The air in here is always cold and damp, like the walls were bleeding out every secret ever locked behind them.And someone like Finn Wilde?He was just another ghost in a Victorian relic that reeked of regret, cheap bleach, and old stone.
Finn never reacted to the sights and sounds in this hellhole.He’d just watch everyone like the apex predator he had fought to become.That’s why they left him alone.Everyone knew not to mess with the inmate in cell twenty-three.
Even handcuffed and shackled like a dog, you’d know he was trouble.
The guy who got no visitors.Got no calls.
And friends?Ha.
The only one who’d bothered about Finn was the ex.From the other side of the country, she’d send the odd letter and regularly top up his canteen account to buy rations—instant coffee, toothpaste, a chocolate bar now and then.
Truth was, he didn’t need anything or anyone anymore.
What he did need was the sun on his back, dust on his boots.The scents of horse sweat, saddle leather, wide skies and open paddocks.Not this.Not concrete, chains, and flickering lights that buzzed like blowflies over a carcass.
The guard in front led the way, with two behind.They never spoke to Finn.They kept their distance like they were handling a loaded weapon, as they walked him into the interview room—the one they kept for special guests.
Not that it was that special.Just a large, reinforced cage, without cameras, yet closed in enough for the guards to jump him, if needed.
Inside, there was a table, two chairs, and the visitor.AndrewDrewBannon.
Now there was a ghost from the past.
‘That won’t be necessary, guard, you can uncuff him.’Drew stood from the table.In a neat suit, tie done up proper, with his short hair greyer than Finn remembered.
‘But, Commissioner—’
‘Say what now?’Finn arched an eyebrow at Drew, looking all official.A long way from the officer who used to wear scuffed boots and swear at broken printers in the old cop shop that was barely standing in the sticks.
The guard hesitated.
But Drew nodded again.
With a clink of chain, the cuffs came off.
Finn rubbed his wrists.Didn’t sit.Didn’t speak.
Drew then smiled like they were old mates catching up over a beer.‘Still not much of a talker, eh?’
Finn shrugged.
‘You look well.’
Finn glanced at the ceiling light buzzing overhead.‘Place agrees with me.’
That earned a laugh.
