Chapter 3: Cell 405
Professional Distraction
“Counselor? Is there a problem?” The guard’s voice is sharp, cutting through the thick, electrified air like a blade.
I pull away from the table so fast my heels nearly skid on the linoleum. My heart is a frantic drum against my ribs, and I can still feel the searing heat of Kayden’s palm where it grazed my hip. My skin feels marked, branded through the fabric of my dress.
“No,” I say, my voice breathy and a pitch too high. I frantically gather my scattered files, my fingers fumbling with the edges of the folders. “No problem. We’re done for today.”
I don’t look back at him. I can feel his sea-blue eyes burning into the back of my neck, mocking my retreat. I practically run past the guard, through the buzzing gates, and out into the biting morning air.
By the time I reach my office, my mind is a storm. Why won’t he talk? He’s staring at a needle, and yet he spends our time taunting me, touching me, pushing me to the edge. There’s something behind that aggression—a wall he’s built to keep me out. Is he hiding something? Or is it the cameras? He knows every blind spot in that room. He knows who is watching. Maybe he isn’t silent because he’s guilty; maybe he’s silent because the truth is more dangerous than the lie.
The Warning
“Earth to Ruby,” a voice calls out, accompanied by a soft knock on my door.
I jump, my hand flying to my chest. My colleague, Stella, is leaning against the doorframe, a look of genuine concern on her face. She’s one of the few people in this firm I actually trust.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, or maybe just a very handsome demon,” she says, stepping inside and closing the door. “I heard Cass put you on the Moro case. Ruby, tell me you’re being careful. When I heard his name, I actually got chills. That man isn’t just a criminal; he’s a force of nature.”
I sink into my leather chair, rubbing my temples. “He’s… difficult, Stella. He won’t sign the papers. He won’t even discuss the night of the murder. He just sits there and tries to get under my skin.”
“He’s a manipulator,” Stella warns, sitting across from me. “Cass wants the best, and you’re the best, but Moro is a different breed. The gangs, the reputation… it’s all real. Don’t let him charm you into a grave.”
“I’m not being charmed,” I lie, the heat of his hand on my hip still tingling. “I’m just trying to find a way to make him see that I’m his only hope. But he keeps telling me to quit. Like he wants to stay in there.”
Our conversation is cut short by my intercom buzzing. Mr. Cass wants to see me. Now.
I walk into my superior’s office, the heavy mahogany furniture and smell of expensive cigars usually calming me. Not today. Cass looks older, the lines around his eyes deeper as he stares at a flashing light on his desk phone.
“The Governor called again, Ruby,” Cass says without preamble. “He’s personally invested in this. He wants Moro fast-tracked, and he wants you off the case. He says your ‘aggressive’ defense style is an insult to the victim’s family.”
“Since when do we let politicians dictate our caseload, Arthur?” I snap, my professional pride flaring up. “I won’t resign. Not for a political vendetta. Moro deserves a defense, even if he’s the one fighting me the most.”
Cass sighs, leaning back. “The pressure is only going to get worse. If you can’t handle this—if you can’t detach yourself from the man and focus only on the law—then walk away now. Before the Governor decides to make an example out of you, too.”
The next day, the atmosphere in the prison is even grimmer. When I enter the consultation room, Kayden isn’t just handcuffed. Heavy steel chains run from his wrists to a bolt in the center of the metal table, and his ankles are shackled to the floor. They’ve turned him into a literal prisoner of the room.
He looks up as I sit down, his blue eyes cold and hard.
“Are you ready to be a human being today, Kayden? Or are we going to waste more time?” I ask, leaning forward.
“I told you to quit, Ruby,” he growls, the chains rattling as he shifts. “Go home. Find a nice, boring husband and stay out of the dark.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, my voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. “Listen to me. I know you’re protecting something. I see the way you look at the cameras. If you don’t give me something to work with, a name, a motive, a reason why you were there—I can’t stop them from killing you. Do you understand? They want you dead, Kayden. Is your secret worth your life?”
He just stares at me, his jaw tight, his expression an unreadable mask of defiance. I talk for an hour, pleading, reasoning, using every trick in my arsenal to get him to break. He remains a statue of bronzed muscle and cold silence.
Frustrated and exhausted, I stand up. “Fine. Die then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I storm out of the prison, my heels clicking furiously on the pavement. I reach my car, toss my briefcase onto the passenger seat, and climb in. I need a drink. I need to scream.
I reach over to zip my briefcase shut, but something catches my eye. Tucked deep inside the fold of my legal files, where no inmate should have been able to reach—is a small, jagged piece of notebook paper.
My heart stops. I pull it out with trembling fingers. In a rough, masculine scrawl, it says:
Stop digging, Ruby. The serpent isn’t the only thing that bites. Check the visitor logs for Room 4. They’re watching you.