“Induction?” Andy questions.
I bite back a groan. I sent a full rundown of the induction we will have to sit through to everybody’s email explaining that we will be signing our lives away for the duration of our time here at the prison, and because of that, there will be a strict list of policies and procedures that we will have to abide by. Obviously, Andy failed to read that particular email.
“Yes,” Warden Brick states. “It won’t take long. It’s just a quick run-through of our expectations of anybody entering the prison to ensure the health and safety of you, our staff, and the prisoners.”
Jedd nods and responds before Andy gets the chance to open his unfiltered mouth again. “Of course. We wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Very well,” Brick says. “Follow me to our induction room, and we’ll get everything underway.”
An hour and a half later, we’re finally escorted through the long halls of the prison, and I won’t lie, every hard clang of the banging cell doors that echo through the corridors sends shivers racing down my back. Just the thought of the vile things the men in here have done makes me sick, but I’m not backing down from this. I came here to do a job, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
It’s almost a ten-minute walk, escorted by three armed security guards, to get to the conference rooms in C-block, and the moment we’re offered the largest room, my team wastes no time getting set up. Two guards remain stationed outside the door, and the third remains to watch our every move, but he’s making the most out of ogling my tits every time I lean over.
The camera, lighting, and sound equipment are set up as I organize my notes with Jedd, going over everything in order of priority, wanting to get the tougher, more in-depth questions out of the way and recorded just in case our time with Stone is cut short. At least that way, we’ll have enough content to deliver a full episode, if not a few.
We’ll start with what happened the night of the murders. The lead-up to it. Where was he, and why did it happen? Did he know the victims personally, or was this truly a violent act of opportunity as the opposition had suggested? I want to know the overall vibe of the night. What he’d done earlier in the day, and what led to him being where the victims were. I want to know if he’d been violent like that in the past or if something happened to make him snap. Was he protecting someone or acting in defense? Or hell, was he the victim in all of this? Were they the ones challenging him, and simply didn’t know what their target was capable of until it was already too late?
Once I have all of that and have dug into each aspect of the case, then I’ll move into his life following the incident. The court case. Why didn’t he defend himself? Why remain silent when he could have fought his way free? I want to find the humanity within him. I want to know what drove him to such extremes, or if he has any regrets from that night. Then once I break through that hard exterior, I can delve into what his life in prison looks like. How has he adjusted to life in solitude? Is he safe? What’s his state of mind? All of that good stuff. And then it’s up to editing to make it shiny and bright.
My questions and notes are laid out on the table, and after spending the last few years studying this man, I think I know exactly how to approach him. Only it’s not going to be easy. If he decides I’m untrustworthy, the interview will go to hell, but if he thinks I might be worth something, then I’m in with a chance to make this the greatest comeback story ever written. Assuming there’s actually something to be uncovered. But if anyone is going to get it out of him, it’ll be me.
I’ve never met anybody I couldn’t crack, and Stone Blackthorne is no exception.
4
ARIA
Nerves rattle me as I pace the small conference room where we’re waiting for the guards to arrive with Stone. The sound of the doors buzzing and clanging makes me sick to my stomach.
The minutes seem to drag on, and as the heavy banging of the doors seems to get closer, my whole body trembles. Then I hear the distinct sound of chains right outside the conference room door.
I take shaky breaths and hover just behind my chair, gripping the backrest to mask the way my hands violently shake.
The door opens, and guards flood the room, their bodies masking my view of the man behind them. Despite being unable to see him, I can already sense a change in the air. It’s as though all the oxygen drains from the room, leaving nothing but pure fear.
My heart booms in my chest, the blood pulsing so rapidly through my body that I feel it in my ears. Silence falls over the room, and even Andy and Doug seem to be holding their breath as Stone’s chains rattle with every movement.
Step by step, he’s led right to me until finally the guards shift their formation, stepping out of the way as though showcasing the terrifying man behind them, and fuck, terrifying doesn’t even begin to cover it.
The temperature in the room seems to drop as I stare up at this man.
Stone stands at least six-seven, his massive, corded muscles threatening to tear right through his orange jumpsuit. The guards release his chains, leaving only the cuffs around his wrists.
You could hear a pin drop as my gaze sails up his massive frame, taking in the impressive width of his chest and the tattoos up his strong arms that lead right around the circumference of his thick neck. They were there before, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I have studied every image available of these tattoos, but something is so different. In the pictures from seven years ago, he was big, but he wasn’t like this.
The man standing before me is a goddamn mammoth.
A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to breathe as I continue my assessment, my stare raking over him, leading up to his stubble-covered jaw. Everything about him is precise. His chiseled jaw could cut diamonds while his dark hair is kept short and manageable, as though he couldn’t give a shit about looking after it.
I feel his stare locked on me, and as tension fills the room, terror pulses through my veins. I’m not prepared to meet his eyes, but I also didn’t come here to bitch out at the very last moment. There’s only so much prep a woman can do leadingup to an interview like this, but nothing could ever prepare someone for standing in the presence of a man like this.
Swallowing over my nerves, I allow my stare to lift the rest of the way, my gaze instantly colliding with Stone’s dark eyes, and the brutal judgment and hatred I see reflected knocks the air right out of my lungs.
I suck in a needy gasp as my knees almost give out beneath me. Nobody has ever looked at me the way Stone Blackthorne is looking at me right now.
This man despises me, but more than that, I feel it in my blood. He doesn’t just despise me; he wants to kill me with his meaty hands, tear the skin right off my body, and feel the life fade out of me.
My body trembles, and I know he sees it. Men like him can sniff out a woman’s fear in seconds, and they know exactly how to use those fears against their target. What I don’t understand is how I became his target without even opening my mouth. I want to run for the door, but I’m stronger than that. Well, not really. I’m a scared little bitch at heart, but Stone Blackthorne doesn’t need to know that. As far as he’s concerned, he just met his match.
