Author's Note: Thank you so much for all of your kind words in your reviews for the last chapter, and thank you for making this story a favorite or putting it on alert! Sorry for the long wait for an update—first semester of grad school got to me! But I finished my last final yesterday, and am anxiously awaiting grades. Law is kicking my butt! But, as my last assignment is done for now, I am back to updating and writing for you! Hopefully things will come quicker as I'm now on break.
Thank you again for reading and please leave a review! Getting reviews make my day, and I am not going to be one of those authors who hold updating over your head if you don't review, but I'd really love to get as many as possible!
If I don't post before then, Merry Christmas! If you don't celebrate it, Happy Holidays!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of it! Anything you recognize belongs to Stephanie Meyer.
I watched curiously as Officer Johns shuffled his feet behind Katie into my office. I was leaning back with my feet placed on my desk, giving off an air of authority, and because I knew it would piss him off.
I watched as Katie gestured to one of the seats in front of me, and Officer Johns kept his head down, ungracefully plopping into it.
"Officer Johns," I greeted, removing my feet from the table and sitting up straight, scooting myself in to fold my arms on top of my desk.
"Ms.-"
"Warden," I responded strongly. "You'll remember my place and yours."
"Sorry," He mumbled, looking up. "Warden Swan."
I nodded, brushing off his half-assed apology.
"Want to explain again what occurred Officer Johns?" I asked him, wanting to be clear what is going on in my prison.
"Well ma'am," He began in a Southern accent, reminding me of—I shook my head. Not the time or the place. "I was patrolling the yard during the cons' rec time, when I noticed shouts occurring around the weight bench. I don't know what caused any of it, but I saw one of our calm-tempered inmates hit one of our hot-head inmates in the head with one of the dumbbells."
"What?" I screeched. "Why were you going to take the hot-headed one to isolation? Shouldn't he have been headed to the infirmary?"
"He was fine ma'am. It must have only looked like it hit him. He doesn't have a knot or anything. I think he was just swinging at him closely, and never made contact."
I was skeptical, but I nodded anyway. I'd check on him when he came in later. "So were you taking both inmates to isolation?"
"N-no," Officer Johns stuttered. "Just the hothead. It's about the fifth time this month he's been involved in an altercation—he needs to learn a lesson."
"Did you ever consider it to be bad luck? People ganging up on him?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Uh, no, but we're pretty sure-."
"I don't do, 'pretty sure'," I interrupted him, using air quotes. "I'm all for punishment and reforming the inmates, but I do not believe in wrongfully punishing any of them. From now on, I'm the judge of who needs to learn a lesson, got it?"
"But-."
"I said, do you understand?" I gritted my teeth, pausing between each word to make myself clear.
"Yes ma'am," Officer Johns acquiesced. "I just thought you'd like to know how things are done around here."
"Were, Officer. How things were done here. I'm in charge now, and I was hired to change things. So I'm going to start with you. Two weeks suspension without pay, and you're lucky I'm not firing your ass. I can't have my officers being insubordinate, especially over walkie talkies when inmates are around."
"This is bullshit!" Officer Johns exclaimed.
"If you want to go for three weeks, I'm all for it," I leaned back in my chair, glaring at the man across from me. He was really pushing my buttons. "I'd enjoy your two weeks off Mr. Johns," I emphasized Mister, letting him know that for now, he's no longer Officer.
"War-."
"You can go," I waved him off, buzzing my intercom for Katie. She popped in a second later, stopping quickly when she saw Mr. Johns fuming across from me. "Katie, could you please give him to one of the three guards outside of my office and tell him to escort to the correctional officer locker room to collect his belongings, and then off the premises? Thank you. Let me know when the first inmate arrives."
I decided even though I thought the guards didn't know what was really going on around here, I'd still talk to the supposedly calmer inmate first.
"This is Warden Swan. Please escort the first inmate involved in the altercation to my office immediately. Thank you," I announced over the guard walkie talkies.
Fifteen minutes later two guards escorted a rough looking man into my office, complete with shackles on his wrists and ankles, with a chain attaching the two.
"This is inmate number 69360," one of the COs informed me. I quickly pulled the inmate's file up on my computer, thankful he was in the system, as the prison was just beginning to go paperless. Inmates who had been in Washington State Pen for a while were in it, and other than that, nothing.
"I can't believe you're really a chick," the inmate told me, before one of the officers pushed him into a seat across from me.
"You can leave," I informed them both, ignoring the inmate for now.
"Ma'am, it's policy not to leave an inmate alone with the warden," the other officer spoke up.
"Why?" I asked, looking up at them, past the inmate.
"Security purposes," the same officer responded. I really needed to learn names.
I laughed out loud, glancing at the inmate sitting across from me. "Like I said, you can leave."
"But-."
"Leave him shackled if it makes you feel better and get the hell out of my office. You can wait outside the door. You need to stop questioning my fucking authority before I have an entire new staff in here tomorrow. Want to see if I'm bullshitting?" I spoke in the calmest voice I could muster. I cannot be seen as weak or like I am not in charge, especially in front of any inmates.
The two men were speechless, but made the right move of leaving. Maybe they have already heard what happened to Johns—gossip spreads fast in prison, and not just between the inmates.
"Now, where were we?" I turned to look at the inmate across from me. "Ah yes, you were just questioning my gender."
"I've never seen a chick think she can be a warden," the inmate responded.
"Let's see how much of a warden I can be, huh?" I grinned, feeling the authority flood my veins. "Who are you?"
"69360."
"I don't give a shit about your prison number, what's your name?"
"Doesn't that fancy computer tell you?" The smile on his face from his sarcastic retort made me want to slap it off of his face. But I stayed on this side of the desk—for now.
"Yeah, it does. But I was giving you a chance to prove you're more than a prison ID number. Now I see that won't work," I informed him. I was beginning to question the judgment of the COs in this place. This guy is the calm one? If it is true, the other guy is going to give me a migraine before lunch.
He opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. I've had enough of his bullshit already. "You going to tell your side of the story? How you're innocent? How he started it? Maybe how hitting him in the head with a dumbbell was self-defense?"
Again, he opened his mouth to respond, but I stopped him in his tracks with my next words. "Yeah, I bet you do. But you lost that privilege when you started smarting off. So you're going to head to isolation as you were supposed to before I gave you the chance to see me."
I pressed the button, buzzing in the two guards waiting outside.
"Fuck you," the inmate, who I do know from my 'fancy computer' is named Steven, cursed at me.
"Not even in your dreams," I quipped. "Take him to isolation, and bring in the other one."
The two guards left without a word, doing as I ordered.
Katie knocked hesitantly on my half-open door. "Come in," I beckoned.
"War-uh, Bella," Katie began slowly. "I'm not so sure I like being in the reception area of the office when inmates are brought in."
"You work in a prison," I told her, trying to keep the 'duh' tone from my voice.
"But when I took this job, they told me I'd never see an inmate," She nervously responded, twisting her hands.
"Katie, inmates are going to be coming and going from my office. If it makes you uncomfortable, this might not be the job for you."
"Please don't fire me!" She cried. "I really need this job, my sister is-."
"Katie," I held my hand up, urging her to stop. "I promise they will always be in full shackles coming through here, but if that makes you uncomfortable, you can pop in to the break room next door when they are coming and going. Deal?"
"Yes!" She exclaimed, looking like she wanted to hug me. "I'll stay in here for a little longer since they'll be in shackles, but if I get uncomfortable, I'll go to the break room and take work in there in case meetings with the inmates take long, and I promise I'll continue to get things done. I can forward the calls from my desk to the phone in there and-."
"That works," I nodded at her, wondering how she got hired in the first place. But I wasn't about to fire my entire staff in one day—especially not before my receptionist taught me the filing system and where everything in the office is located. How did the previous warden never bring an inmate to his office? No wonder this place is all sorts of out-of-order.
I heard the clanking of shackles heading through the lobby and reception area of the office. "Katie, you might want to head back to your desk now. I think the second one is on his way in."
"Thanks!" She yelled over her shoulder as she rushed hurriedly to what she felt was safety, behind her desk.
I didn't look up when the second inmate was brought in, not wanting to give the supposed hot-head inmate the satisfaction. I pretended to look through some files on my desk.
"This is inmate number 195026," one of the guards informed me, identical to last time. At least they have some protocol right in here.
I didn't bother looking this inmate up in the computer, not wanting to get another smartass remark. Maybe he would be more open to telling me his name if he did not think I already knew it.
"You can leave," I repeated, still pretending to sift through the files.
"But ma'am, this inma-."
I cleared my throat roughly, and they seemed to get the hit, leaving without another word and shutting the door behind him.
"You aren't going to speak up?" I questioned, my voice hard, still looking down, feigning nonchalance.
I was met with complete silence from the other side of my desk. Annoyed, I pulled my head up to scowl at the inmate across from me. He was looking down, his face hardened. I could see the click of his jaw as he grit his teeth, clearly angry and trying to bite his tongue from saying something that he would regret.
My gaze roamed over his face, my eyes growing wider and wider with astonishment and utter shock. I knew this man from a life before.
"Huh," I managed to get out, dumbfounded. "Guess Sam's gang really wasn't up to any good."
Sitting across from me was one of the guys that took my once best friend away. I was far past that, and definitely over it, but it gave me some small satisfaction to see one of them sitting across from me in a jumpsuit and shackles.
"Which hall monitor on steroids are you?"
The man, if it is even possible, growled across from me. "Paul," He snarled. "Paul Lahote."
I could hear his teeth grinding against each other, and he started visibly shaking.
"Can't say I'm surprised to see you here," I smirked. I knew the laughter in my voice would only piss him off more.
His hardened and livid onyx gaze met mine, and his shaking visibly stopped, as his entire form seemed to lighten right in front of my eyes. His face softened, and he looked at me like I hung the moon. A few seconds later, his form was hardened and his shaking began again, though this time it didn't seem as violent.
"You know who I am?" I asked.
"Swan."
"Warden Swan, to you," I annoyingly pointed at my name plate.
"I can think of a few other names for you," Paul bit out, though he seemed to calm almost imperceptibly.
"Like?" I don't know where this banter is coming from, but for some reason I don't want it to stop. I picked up the glass of water Katie put on my desk when I first arrived, taking a sip.
"Leech lover still work for you?"
The next sound I heard was my glass shattering on the linoleum floor. It was Paul's turn to smirk.
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