Chained To The Devil novel Chapter 3

PRISON

7:10 AM

I’m in the warden’s office of this lovely prison. He’s been staring at me for a few minutes now, and I remain unfazed by his rude attitude.

He finally decides to speak:

“I didn’t expect you to be so young. Women like you usually avoid working in prisons with criminals like ours.”

I hold back a sigh.

“I know what I’m getting into.”

“I don’t think you do. It would be a shame if something were to happen to you.”

“I can defend myself. Don’t worry about me.”

“That’s your choice. However, I don’t believe you understand the gravity of what our inmates have done. Most of them are real animals.”

“I told you I’ll be fine.”

He’s starting to piss me off, treating me like I’m incapable. I hate being seen as weak, especially by a stranger who’s judging me solely based on my appearance.

“Well, it’s up to you, miss. We’re glad to welcome you to our prison.”

“The pleasure is mine.”

“I’ll let you get settled and familiarize yourself with the place, but you’ll need to put on your uniform.”

“Alright.”

“I’m sorry, your colleagues aren’t aware of your arrival yet—it all happened quite suddenly. You’ll find them in the yard. They should be out walking the inmates. You really are a miracle at the right time; we’re seriously short-staffed.”

I’m anything but a miracle. Still, I’ll take the compliment—it might be the last time I hear one.

I smile at the man. He pulls a uniform from his closet, hands it to me; I take it and leave the room.

I get a quick tour of the facility.

I head to the locker room to put on the uniform, which hugs my curves tightly. Then I place my civilian clothes in the locker assigned to me.

I head toward the outdoor yard. I’m about to open the door that leads to it, hand on the handle, but I hesitate for a few seconds.

Breathe, Inara.

Once you walk through that door, you’re no longer a criminal—you’re a guard. You’ll have to act like one, avoiding lashing out every time you feel threatened because, here, you’ll feel in danger every single second.

I take a deep breath and push open the door, revealing a vast view of the yard full of inmates.

All eyes are on me—my colleagues’ and the prisoners’. But I hold my head high. I stay indifferent to their remarks, which clearly imply they want to do indecent things to me.

I hear fragments of sentences like:

“Who’s that, the new whore?”

“Damn, I’ll take her in a closet.”

“Haven’t seen hips and an ass like that in years.”

“I just fell in love with that woman.”

I ignore them.

Sadly, comments like those are part of my daily life.

I walk toward my colleagues—three men who stare at me like I’m an alien.

I’m the only female guard. I don’t like that.

My colleagues are undressing me with their eyes, as if the prisoners’ looks weren’t enough.

I give a polite smile and extend my hand toward the blond one. The older man and the dark-haired one seem too busy checking me out—I wouldn’t want to interrupt.

“I’m Inara. I’m your new colleague.”

They stay silent for a few seconds, then all smile. The blond one shakes my hand, followed by the other two.

The oldest is named Franck: around forty, broad build, hair between brown and gray.

The blond is Mathieu: in his twenties, slim but tall, always smiling, with stunning blue eyes.

The dark-haired one is Anis: in his thirties, very tall, shoulder-length dark hair, dark brown eyes, and tan skin.

I notice clear stitches on his forehead and a slightly swollen eye. He must have taken a beating recently.

The introductions go well.

Never thought I’d be working alongside prison guards—justice and I don’t exactly get along.

And to think I’m supposed to be one of them.

Ironic.

The oldest speaks first:

“We weren’t informed we were getting a new colleague.”

“It all happened quickly.”

“That’s strange, isn’t it? You just show up here overnight, out of nowhere?” Anis adds, sounding suspicious.

Franck chimes in:

“Women aren’t meant for this kind of work.”

I raise an eyebrow. Sexism really does follow me everywhere.

Franck places a hand on my thigh; I shoot him a deadly glare.

“We can watch over you… in exchange for a few services. A pretty mouth like yours must know how to do a lot of things.”

I instantly understand the innuendo.

I’m about to pull the knife hidden in my bra and stab him in the chest, but I manage to restrain myself.

Anis gives a wide grin while I stare daggers at Franck’s hand.

If we were outside, I would’ve put a bullet between his eyes for daring to talk to me like that.

I warn him:

“Move your hand off my thigh before I break it.”

“You’re really cute when you get mad,” Anis pipes in.

“She bites,” Franck adds with a smirk.

I roughly push Franck’s hand away and stand up.

“You and I are going to establish a safety distance. Your dumbass remarks? Shove them where your balls are supposed to be. I’m far from ‘cute,’ Anis. Don’t forget—you don’t know me. I can do a lot more damage than you think.”

I head for the exit, and I hear them laughing.

They don’t take me seriously.

“Don’t come crying when the inmates rape you and there’s no one to help!” Franck yells.

“We offered our help, and you refused, so deal with it!” Anis adds.

I act like I didn’t hear and leave the cafeteria.

I’ve already made enemies of two out of three colleagues in just a few hours.

I need to be careful—I’m on my own.

If something goes wrong, those two morons won’t lift a finger to help.

I need to find my target.

My father really threw me into a pile of shit.