Auctioned to the Prisoners (Auctioned #4)

4

LORY

PRISON BLUES

Blackstone Penitentiary looms on the horizon like a dystopian world after the apocalypse. A sinking feeling settles in my chest as Warden Grady’s car rumbles along the dusty road toward the jail. The surrounding landscape is barren and lifeless, with scrubby weeds sprouting between the cracked asphalt and looming fences that seem to stretch for miles. The sun is setting, casting long shadows over the sprawling complex of concrete and steel ahead and a fiery glow around the jail itself. It glints off the high, chain-link fences topped by razor wire, which gleam menacingly in the fading light.

The warden isn’t a chatty man. In the first five minutes of riding in his car, he explained three things: he hadn’t purchased me for himself, I’d been bought to repay a debt, and I now belong to three hardened, most likely violent men, and will spend my thirty-day term incarcerated with them in an all-male prison.

After that, we both went silent.

The skin around my fingers is sore from biting. The space where my heart should be echoes and lower, it burns as though it’s fallen into my stomach and is cradled in acid. My leg jumps like it’s trying to disconnect itself from my body, but all I want to do is laugh. Not the type of laugh like you’d make at a joke, but the maniacal kind that gushes out with the shove of fear.

I thought Evelyn’s other suggestions were the worst I could face, but this? This is beyond what I imagined.

Three men who are doing hard time for serious enough offenses to be incarcerated at Blackstone.

Three .

For thirty days.

And there’s no escape.

As the main gate comes into view—a massive structure with thick bars and security cameras angled in every direction—armed guards focus their attention from a nearby watchtower, their figures silhouetted against the dusky sky.

A low, mechanical buzz signals the gate opening, and I watch as it slides shut behind us, trapping me inside.

Warden Grady crawls slowly into his designated parking space and turns off the engine. He’s a big man who must have been fit once upon a time but has thickened with age. His pants strain over his thighs, and his jacket is open. It’s too hot for what he’s wearing, but I suspect that’s not the only reason he’s sweating. He must oversee this place, but that doesn’t mean he’s immune from getting into trouble over what he’s trying to arrange.

He turns to me, his watery brown eyes scanning my face, his mustache twitching slightly. “This place…” His gaze shifts to the building ahead. “It’s dangerous. The men you're about to meet are dangerous too. But I don’t believe they’re dangerous to you. Do you understand?” I nod, even though I’m not sure I do. A dog that bites once is capable of biting again, even if you chain it up or pull its teeth.

“All you need to do is keep them happy. They’ve done a lot of bad in their lives, but they’ve also done something good. Something deserving of a reward bigger than I can give them. This is the most I can do to repay them. Do you think you can handle that?”

His words twist like riddles, but what’s clear is that I need to do whatever these men want—to keep them satisfied and keep myself safe. I’m not ready for this, not in my tight dress and strappy shoes. But I have no choice. This is for my little sister. I’d do anything for Kennedy. Anything.

I just have to focus on the money. It’s more than I expected, more than enough to help her and keep myself going until I figure out my next move.

“If anyone asks, you’re my cousin’s kid, come to look around the place. Once I get you to where you’re staying, no one will come looking for you.”

He rubs his hand over his weathered face and sighs. He didn’t mean to sound ominous, but he did. My heart clenches, making me woozy. Then, with a renewed resolve, he throws open the car door and heaves himself out. My hands tremble as he rounds the back of the car to open the door beside me. I grip the seat, wanting to tell him to take me home. My sister’s problems suddenly seem so much smaller now I’m putting my life on the line for her safety. But then I feel sick because she’d do this for me. She’d risk her own life if it meant she could help me. Through the hardest parts of our childhood, she’d throw herself in front of flying fists to protect me, and I’d do the same for her. We bonded under the worst kind of pressure.

A siren startles me and spurs me to struggle from the vehicle, and I clasp my arms across my chest as I glance around. Loud male voices echo in the sprawling space, and the car door slams like a gunshot.

“You have a phone?”

He stares at the bulge on the side of my hip. The only place I had to store it was beneath the hem of my dress, tucked into the elastic of my thong. “Yes.”

“You’ll have to give it to me.”

My lifeline, the only way I have to connect to the outside world and my sister, is getting taken away.

I reach beneath my dress and pull out the small, warm phone, handing it to him.

“Will you bring it to me to check the messages?”

He slides the phone into his pocket and nods.

“This way.”

The air inside the prison is heavy and oppressive. The entryway starkly contrasts the dusty landscape with gray walls and harsh fluorescent lighting that buzzes faintly above. A metal detector and several armed guards greet us just past the doorway. The smell of disinfectant clings to everything, mingling with the faint scent of sweat and something hard to place.

We pass through security with little fuss, but my nerves are buzzing so hard, I don’t take anything in. I’m searched, but I don’t have any possessions with me, so it doesn’t take any time at all. As Warden Grady leads me deeper into the facility, the sound of my shoes echoes hollowly off the concrete floors. The hallways are narrow and windowless, lined with heavy steel doors with small, reinforced windows. I pass several guards along the way, each one giving me a look that’s a mix of curiosity and indifference. Grady keeps a brisk pace, barely glancing back to check if I’m following.

The farther we walk, the more the prison closes in around me. The constant hum of the security systems fills my mind like the low hum of a beehive. Every few steps, the distant clanging of metal doors slamming shut and the muffled voices of inmates amplify the dread.

We pass a series of small rooms—holding cells, interrogation rooms, and offices. The occasional inmate shuffles by, escorted by guards, their faces hard and weary, and their eyes on me, sizing me up.

Eventually, Grady stops in front of a reinforced door. “Cellblock D,” he said, his voice flat. “This is where the men you’ll be dealing with are housed. Keep your wits about you. Don’t share your private information. Play your cards close to your chest.”

Instead of going inside, he bypasses the door, passes through another coded door, and down a flight of stairs. At the bottom, and down a long dark corridor, is a smaller unit, which seems deserted. “This used to be the medical facility until it was relocated to another wing. It’s secure, but the cameras have been disconnected. No one comes down here.”

I glance around, taking in the small individual rooms, the open door to a bathroom area, and another room that must have been used for the staff. It’s huge compared to my place, but the windows are too high on the walls to look out of and are heavily reinforced with bars. There’s nothing to make the place homely.

“Wait here,” he says. “I’m going to bring them down.”

When he reaches the door, he turns to me. “You don’t have a bag.”

Has he only just noticed? I was in such a rush to register for the auction that I left my small bag on Josh’s motorbike, and the warden whisked me off before I could go back for it. I shake my head.

“You won’t need many clothes,” he says, more to himself than to me. “But I’ll find you a toothbrush and a towel. There’s soap in the bathroom.”

When he punches the code back in to leave, and the door slides open with a loud clink, I rest against the cool wall and bite back tears.

I won’t need many clothes.

The reality of what I’ve signed up for grabs me like a murderer’s hands around my neck, and the men aren’t even here yet. How will I hold myself together when I finally face them?

With the warden gone, I rush around to get a proper sense of the place, ending in the bathroom, where I gaze at my face in the mirror, startled by my appearance. My eyes are so heavily ringed with dark shadow that they look almost black, shuttering my emotions. The red of my lips has worn from the center, making them appear swollen and bruised. My neck is flushed with a nervous rash that I try to cool with water before dabbing myself dry with a paper towel. I’m breathing so hard that the sound echoes around me like the room itself is gasping.

I barely have time to steady my nerves before heavy footsteps approach. Warden Grady’s gruff voice bounces off the walls as he nears with the men. My pulse quickens, and my mouth goes dry. I try to stand straighter, arms clenched tightly around myself, bracing for the moment when I’ll finally meet the men who now control my fate for the next thirty days.

The code pad makes its shrill beeps, and then the door releases and is pushed roughly open. Warden Grady steps through first, his face unreadable, though there’s a grim determination in his eyes. He knows he’s gone too far now, and there’s no going back.

Behind him, the men file in one by one, instantly filling the space with their intense presence.

The first man to enter is huge, his shoulders broad and filling the doorway, casting a long shadow across the room. His light brown hair is cropped short, showing off the hard angles of his jawline and the deep-set blue eyes that flick over me with a sharp intensity. His movements have raw power and fluidity as he gives me a slow once-over, his expression guarded. His tattooed biceps strain against the fabric of his prison uniform as he drops a small duffel bag to the ground with a thud.

Behind him, another man follows, and the energy in the room shifts. Where the first is all cold control, this man is jittery. His dark, unruly hair falls into his eyes, but it’s those eyes that hold me captive. There’s something wild in their dark green depths, a flicker of madness that dances beneath the surface, shifting from cold calculation to something far darker. His lips twitch into a half-smile, but it’s not reassuring. It’s the kind of smile that makes you wonder if you’re about to become a target or a meal. He tosses his bag next to the duffel with casual indifference, his eyes never leaving mine.

And then the final man makes his entrance, towering above even the first. His massive frame moves with surprising fluidity like he could have been a dancer in another life. His skin is a warmer brown, and his dark, curly hair is tied at the back in a knot. There’s an undeniable strength in how he carries himself, but his eyes tell a different story. They’re guarded but not hostile, more observant than anything else, like he’s constantly assessing the situation, looking for threats and weaknesses. He nods at me, his jaw tight behind a thick beard, keeping his bag on his shoulder and clutching a small paperback in his huge hand.

The tension in the room is palpable as the three of them wait, their postures different but communicating the same thing: they’re dangerous, and I’ve willingly walked into their world.

Warden Grady clears his throat, snapping me out of my daze. “Lory, this is Kinkaid, Hyde, and Rock.” Turning to Kinkaid, the first man, he fixes him with an intense stare. “You know the deal. You’re responsible for her. She’s here for you, and it’s up to you to keep her safe.”

The men exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Kinkaid is the first to break the silence, his deep voice rumbling through the room.

“Understood,” he says simply, his eyes finally settling on me. There’s something unreadable in his penetrating gaze, like he’s trying to decide what to make of me.

Grady’s expression softens just slightly. He has a small bag, which he hands to me. “Keep things... peaceful.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond; he just turns on his heel and walks out, leaving me alone with three strangers.

The door slams shut behind him, the sound echoing in the empty halls. My heart is racing, my palms sweaty, as I stand there, staring at the men in front of me. They watch me, too, each in their own way: Kinkaid, with quiet intensity; Hyde, the second man, with that unsettling smirk; and Rock, the third, with his guarded but not unfriendly gaze.

“Lory, right?” Kinkaid’s voice is softer but just as deep and sure.

I nod, unable to find my voice.

Kinkaid steps closer, his presence even more imposing up close as he looms over me.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to speak. “Yeah. I’m Lory.”

He holds out a huge hand, which I stare at for too long before offering my own. “Kinkaid. It’s good to meet you.”

Hyde chuckles from his spot by the door, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine. “Oh, sweetheart,” he drawls, “it’s more than good to meet you.”

Rock shoots Hyde a warning look, and Hyde shrugs, leaning back against the wall with that same unsettling grin. Rock then turns his attention to me, his voice surprisingly gentle for a man his size. “You don’t have to look at us like that. We’re not here to hurt you.” He says it so sincerely I want to believe him.

I should be relieved, but in a place like this, surrounded by men like them, I find it very hard to believe.

I’ve dealt with men like this before—my mom’s boyfriends, who hurt me and tried to do unspeakable things to me and my sister when we were too young to defend ourselves. They were the worst of the worst. But I’m grown now, stronger, and more prepared for whatever comes my way—whatever will come next.

They’re good-looking men, but not in a way that feels safe. There’s a brutal edge to each of them, like they’ve been chiseled by hardship and violence. Even so, if I met any of them in a bar and they’d said the right things, maybe I would have gone home with them and done things for free that I’m now getting paid to do. I’ve always been drawn to the kind of rawness they exude, like they trust no one and can flip under the slightest of pressure. With bodies like weapons that carry the scars of battle, and energy that vibrates the air around them, they’re all I know.

Maybe, if I’m nice to them, they’ll make it easier for me to take.

Maybe.

This is my reality for the next month.