Chapter 7: The Glass Cage
Chapter 7: The Glass Cage
Blackgate Penitentiary smelled of bleach and despair. I sat on one side of the thick bulletproof glass.
Preston sat on the other.
The custom tailored suits were gone, replaced by an oversized orange jumpsuit. His hair was uncombed.
The arrogance that had fueled him for twenty-five years had been starved to death. He picked up the phone. “Come to gloat, Evelyn?” His voice was hoarse, raspy. “I came to offer you a deal.” He laughed, a dry, bitter sound. “You don't make deals. You destroy.”
“Your mother sent me a letter,” I said, holding up the black envelope to the glass.
Preston’s eyes widened. For a fraction of a second, the mask slipped. Fear. Pure, unadulterated fear.
Not of me. Of her. “She’s going to rebuild,” I told him softly. “She let you rot in here so she could survive.
How long until she decides you’re a liability even behind bars?” He swallowed hard. His eyes darted toward the guard standing in the corner.
“I don't know what you're talking about.” “The Shadow Ledger, Preston. Give me the location. If I burn it, I burn her.
She goes to prison, and you get transferred to a minimum-security facility. My father can arrange it.” Silence stretched between us.
He looked at his hands, then up at me.
May you like
The boy who had laughed at my blood was now just a frightened child. He leaned close to the glass. “The summer house,
” he whispered into the phone. “Underneath the piano.” He hung up. I walked out. The real war was just beginning.
