The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 197

Coban’s POV

The room felt too quiet.

Too still.

Like it was waiting for something to happen… or maybe waiting for me to finally lose what little control I had left.

I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on my knees, my hands clasped so tightly together that my knuckles had turned pale beneath the fading bruises.

My knee bounced relentlessly.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

A rhythm I couldn’t stop.

Didn’t even try to.

Because if I stopped moving…

If I stopped distracting myself…

Then my thoughts would get louder.

And they were already loud enough.

Did my father fix it?

Did he make sure she stayed?

Or was she gone?

The questions circled like vultures in my head, tearing at whatever sanity I had left.

Because the truth was…

I didn’t like not knowing. Didn’t like having zero control over my own fucking life.

I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling slowly through my nose.

I had told him it was non-negotiable.

Told him she was mine.

Told him I wasn’t letting her walk away from this.

But that didn’t mean shit if she decided to leave and my father hadn’t stepped in to try help me.

If she chose to walk out that door…

Then what?

Then I was back to nothing.

Back to life in the normal prison system before her.

Back to being exactly who I was before she walked into my life and fucked everything up in the best and worst ways possible.

My jaw clenched.

I could fix this. I had to fix this.

“That is…” I muttered to myself under my breath, my voice rough in the silence as I answered my own thoughts, “if she even gives me a fucking chance to fix it…”

A chance to make this right.

A chance I wasn’t even sure I deserved, but wanted more than anything else.

My head dropped slightly, staring at the floor as the weight of everything pressed down on top of me.

The bathroom.

Her face.

The way she looked at me like I’d broken something between us…

Something I might’ve destroyed for good.

My chest tightened.

And then…

Footsteps.

My head snapped up instantly, honing in on the sound.

There was more than one person.

At least two.

Maybe three?

Coming right this way, right towards my cell.

My body reacted before my brain did, pushing me up onto my feet in one swift motion – standing alert.

My muscles tensed automatically, ready for anything.

Because it was late.

Too late for casual movement like this.

Too late for anything good to be happening amongst the guards.

Who the fuck was walking around at this time?

But of course, the footsteps stopped right outside my door…

A single beat of silence came, and then-

“Santorelli! Delivery!” The guard called, hitting the cell door once.

My brows furrowed at that.

Delivery? What fucking delivery?!

The buzz of the lock cut through the quiet as the door clicked open.

I stepped forward instinctively, as the guard revealed himself… but stood empty fucking handed?!

Delivery? Delivery where?! I almost near delivered a punch right to his face for bullshitting me, but then-

He stepped aside.

And everything stopped.

Everything.

Because behind him…

Was her.

Small.

Fragile.

Barely standing straight.

Mine.

The thought hit before the word even left my mouth.

“Bella…” I breathed out at the sight of her.

The anger, the tension, even the violence sitting under my skin – ready to strike it all vanished.

Gone.

Just like that.

She shuffled inside slowly, her movements careful, stiff.

Like every step hurt her, and the sight started to hurt me too…

It looked like every breath cost her something, before the guard spoke again from behind her.

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