“Not a chance they’d listen to us, or have grounds to do anything about it,” I tell him solemnly.
There iss nothing we can do trapped in this cell. I’ve been here almost a year, and I’ve never felt as trapped as I do right now. Out there somewhere, my little bird was on the run, on her own, probably struggling as she’d never had to fend for herself before.
“Who knows what sort of trouble she’ll get herself into,” Dex says, as if mirroring my thoughts.
Slowly, we each climb into our bunks, knowing there is no hope in escaping this place. If there were, we would have found it by now. The overcrowding may mean our paroles would come up sooner than planned. But we’d barely been here a year, it would be decades before hope of that is on the table.
My mind wanders to thoughts of Wren, wandering thestreets, living like a homeless person in dark, dangerous alleys. Even if we got out, how would we even find her? We don’t even know what direction she went.
A soft clunk wakes me from a fitful sleep, but the cell is dark, so I’m unsure what it is. When it remains silent, I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep.
“Did you hear that?” Pete whispers.
“Yes,” I whisper back. “It’s nothing, go back to sleep.”
He doesn’t respond for almost a full minute, so I think he’s gone back to sleep. But finally, he speaks again. “I think it came from the door.”
“So?” Dex asks, joining our conversation.
“I’m gonna check it out.”
“Be my guest,” I say, rolling over to watch him climb down with the grace of a cat. He’s the smallest of the four of us, lean and wiry. His blond hair, green eyes, and devilish grin trick people into thinking he’s friendly, but he’s a psycho just like the rest of us.
When he gets to the cell door, I watch as he tries to slide it open and—it moves. I bolt upright, nearly hitting my head on the bunk above me as he pushes it wide enough to slip through.
He pokes his head out, looks both ways down the hall, then pulls it back in and turns to us with a giant grin that speaks of chaos and excitement.
“What do you say, boys? Ready for a little prison break?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
WREN
Clutching my bag to my side, I stare up at Gravel and Grit. I didn’t expect it to look so rundown. I’m just glad I didn’t have to walk all the way here. When I asked the man running the motel how to get here, he told me it’s too far to walk and called me a taxi.
Paying for things was becoming easier, especially when it seemed like I had enough to last me a bit longer than I had initially thought, without having to worry too much.
Music and loud voices break the silence of the night as I gather my courage to step inside. Motorcycles are parked everywhere, and my hands start to grow clammy with unease. I’ve never met a biker before, and wasn’t sure what to expect.
Knowing there’s no turning back now, since I had no way out of here without asking someone to call me a taxi, I take a deep breath and push the door open.
Everything is ten times louder inside, and it takes me a few seconds to adjust. I’ve neverbeen anywhere so noisy before. I thought the diner during dinner time was bad, but this is another level.
The bar is packed. Almost every person I see is a rough-looking, intimidating man wearing a black jacket or vest with thick beards. They must be the bikers. Laughter rings out from one corner, their voices growing louder to be heard over the rest of the crowd.
Remember why you’re here.
I try to put all the distractions in the back of my mind, but it’s not something I’m used to. I’ve never really been around more than a few people at a time before, and never people this… chaotic.
The bar is hard to find because it’s surrounded by men sitting on stools, drinking what I suspect is beer.
I head over and realize there’s no way for me to speak to the bartender through all these men, especially at my five-foot-five height.
“Excuse me?” I ask tentatively, but nobody notices me.
“Excuse me!” I say, louder this time.
The two men sitting closest to me swivel on their seats, their eyebrows lifting when they see me.
