Chapter 2: No Way Out

When Catherine lifted her head and saw Alicia, shock flashed across her once-blank face—only to harden into ice as her gaze fell on the photo in Alicia’s hands.

After the guards filed out, leaving Alicia in the cell with Catherine, Alicia gave her a nervous smile. “Hello, pretty. I’m Alicia. What’s your name?”

Catherine ignored the pleasantries. “How did you end up in here?”

After fifteen years of being locked up, this was the first time Catherine had seen a newcomer as old as Alicia—and what intrigued her even more was Alicia’s naivety about her situation.

Alicia didn’t seem frightened in the slightest, and she even look a little jovial.

Alicia babbled excitedly, “My husband sent me here by speedboat. There’s a secret auction—some huge, life-changing contract that will transform my handsome husband’s company.”

Catherine stared at her in disbelief. What truly soured her mood, though, was watching Alicia sit on the thin mattress, clutching a photograph of Ethan and whispering, “I miss you so much, my love. I can’t wait to see you again.” She lowered her head and pressed her lips to the picture.

Irritation sharpened Catherine’s features. “Is that your husband?” she asked, voice tight.

Alicia jumped up and came closer, thrusting the photo into view. “Yes—this is my husband. Isn’t he handsome? We’re going to have kids, I can’t wait to—”

Her gushing only grated on Catherine. With a snap of temper, Catherine snatched the photo. “You’re such an idiot,” she said coldly, then tossed it to the floor. “This is a women’s prison. Now that you’re here, you don’t leave—ever. This is where they lock away the people they won’t bother to kill.”

But Alicia barely heard her. She scrambled to the floor, scooped up Ethan’s photo, and hugged it to her chest, glaring at Catherine like she’d tried to destroy her world.

Seeing that Alicia wasn’t listening, Catherine’s expression hardened. She turned away, lay down, and faced the wall, refusing to look at her new cellmate. Irritation radiated off her in waves.

Alicia watched her nervously, parted her lips to speak, then thought better of it. She returned to her own mattress and lay down.

Catherine drifted into an easy sleep. Alicia couldn’t. She kept glancing at Ethan’s picture, again and again, until she finally fell asleep.

At dawn the next day, the prison’s electric bell clanged, followed by the guards’ voices booming from the doorways.

“Breakfast is ready! Breakfast is ready!”

Catherine rose from her bunk. Alicia followed. The moment the guard unlocked their door, Catherine stepped out without a word. Alicia hurried after her.

“Where are we going?” Alicia asked timidly, palms slick with sweat, her nerves stretched thin.

Catherine stayed silent. Alicia trailed her into a cavernous breakfast hall—and froze. Scattered among the inmates were women with gray hair and sunken eyes, some so frail they coughed as if each breath might be their last. Alicia’s brows knotted. She swept her gaze across the room, unwilling to accept what Catherine had told her the night before.

A hard shove knocked her forward. A female prisoner snorted behind her. “Move it, fatty. You’ve got thirty minutes. After that, they shove you back in your cell.”

Alicia spun to see a knot of women inked with tattoos, their sneers lingering as they drifted away.

She swallowed, collected herself, and stepped into the food line. After she was served, she scanned the room and spotted Catherine sitting alone at a table no one else seemed willing to use.

Alicia carried her tray over and ate in silence beside her. When breakfast ended, Catherine stood. Alicia rose immediately and fell in step.

“What’s going on here?” Alicia whispered, fear fraying her voice. The reality of prison was pressing in on her from all sides.

Catherine didn’t answer.

They returned to the cell. Catherine sat on her bunk, refusing to acknowledge Alicia, who hovered, fretful and persistent.

“Shut up,” Catherine snapped, voice sharp with irritation.

Alicia flinched, retreated to the thin mattress opposite, and sank down. She pulled a worn photo of Andy from her pocket and burst into tears. The sound grated. Catherine cut her a cold look.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Alicia stared back, eyes swollen and red, tears streaming. Catherine studied her a beat, then asked, flat and unforgiving, “Do you still love your husband?”

Alicia bobbed a mute nod.

“And do you still believe that bullshit contract he told you about? The auction lie?” Catherine sneered.

Alicia shook her head. She loved him—but she wasn’t that blind.

“Good,” Catherine said. “At least you’re not beyond saving. But do you really think he’ll get you out of here?”

“Yes,” Alicia choked out. “He loves me. He cares. He’ll figure out we were set up and come for me.” Her voice frayed with desperation.

“Idiot,” Catherine muttered, rolling onto her side and shutting her eyes. Alicia kept murmuring, pleading to the air. When the lunch bell clanged, Catherine rose. Alicia trailed after her, trying to talk; Catherine ignored her.

In the corridor after lunch, a knot of women blocked their way. A tall one with tight braids looked Catherine over.

“Hey, Cathy. Heard you got a new cellmate.”

“If you want a fight, request it,” Catherine said, already bored.

The braided woman lifted her hands. “Not today. Take your fatty and go.”

Catherine didn’t bother replying. She moved past them, Alicia in her wake. Back in the cell, Catherine lay down without a word.

After a hesitant silence, Alicia asked, “How long have you been here?”

Catherine stared at the ceiling for a moment, then sat up, surprise flickering over her face as if the answer still startled her. “They brought me here as a kid. I was ten.”

Alicia’s eyes went wide. “Ten?”

“I’m not getting out,” Catherine said, voice cooling again. “And my stepmother is the reason I’m here.”