lounge is stealing or messing shit up that way, but the fact of the matter is, my mat’s pride is too destructive to be ignored anymore.
I sigh, suddenly tired. I know the how of it all, but I still don’t see a way to fix it. Not one that doesn’t involve my ownership or having to challenge my mother. I scoff at that thought. She’s so damn slippery I don’t even know if I’d be able to get a formal challenge in. She’s exiled or killed everyone who’s ever tried before, and I’m not confident I could force her hand. The lounge needs solutions now before my mat gets everyone hurt.
I have to find another way to fix this. If I can’t, then...maybe I need to start thinking about mate life. From the minute I was told that I belonged to Alpha Bowen, I rejected it. I fought it and ended up here, but if I had known then what I know now, I wouldn’t have chosen prison. I’m not selfish enough to let my lounge suffer when I could fix it. And as much as I hate the thought, I might just end up at Alpha Bowen’s feet with my tail tucked between my legs. It might be the only way I can settle the debt to save my lounge.
I get up from the concrete bench and take my tray and stack it with the others, determined to find a solution that doesn’t end up with me throwing my life away to a stranger.
If there is one, I’m going to fucking find it. I just have to do it soon.
11
“Inmate 11764. Get up and put your back against the wall.”
I groan, my awareness coming in like a bad radio signal. Licking my dry lips, I yank the thin blanket over my head and ignore Sandbag’s voice.
“Inmate!”
“Ungh,” I groan. “What?”
“Get your ass up and put your back against the wall.”
It’s too early for this shit.
I flop the blanket over to the side as I hear the cell door open, but then I accidentally fall back asleep. I was up way too late last night, working on my products to get ready for market day today.
Suddenly, my mattress is being ripped off the bed frame—with me still on it—and tossed to the floor. I go sliding, the back of my head slamming into the wall. I sit up and glare at the guards. I open my mouth to curse at Sandbag and ask what the fuck is going on, but I stop short when I see what they’re doing.
A brand new, triple-thick mattress is being put down where the old prison-issued mattress and I just were. I stare at it in shock as two guards put it down while another one tosses down a package of brand new sheets.
I watch, mouth gaping like a fish, as more guards file in, one after the other, dropping stuff off into my cell. Blankets. Pillows. A small, battery operated TV and DVD player. A battery-operated mini-fridge. Even a blue and green tie-dye beanbag chair. Pretty.
I scramble to my feet, standing on top of the stained, rail-thin mattress that’s slumped on the floor. “What is all this?”
“Luxuries,” Sandbag replies with a sneer. “Your fucking cock boyfriend set it up for you to have all of this shit.”
I stare at him for a moment, confused as to why Rook would get me all of this stuff and wondering how he convinced the guards to set it all up. Then the sleep sluffs off my brain, and it all clicks. Ah. Alpha Bowen’s bribes have arrived.
The guards file out of my cell, taking my old mattress with them, and Sandbag shakes his head at all my newly added goodies and then storms out, slamming the door behind him.
I look around in awe.
I walk over to the new mattress and whistle at how plush and thick it is. The sheets are bright blue to match my new beanbag chair, and they’re silky soft. And pillows! So many pillows.
When Beta Trex told me that Alpha Bowen was going to give me luxuries, I was ready to be an ornery martyr about it and not use a single thing. But damn. Scratch that idea. I’m going to enjoy every damn perk that just got delivered because the thread count on these sheets is through the roof.
Besides, despite what Alpha Bowen might think, sitting in a beanbag chair that he paid for does not equate to accepting a marriage proposal or