Page 69 of Fragments

Scuttling along, I’m trying to stay hopeful, but I’ve seen this happen too many times… Inmates scooped up out of nowhere and dropped in the East Wing, whenever it tickles the Warden’s fancy. It happened to Landon, and now he’s gone.

Darcey, O’Malley…Am I next?

The reality of what’s likely about to happen to me settles in my limbs, and I wrap my head around it as best I can. But rather than stuffing me inside a padded cell or an exam room, Velle opens a different door.

Peering inside, I see desks adorned with computer monitors.

I glance at Velle while he holds the door open impatiently, gesturing for me to go inside. “Let’s go, 35. We don’t have all day.”

Swallowing my unease, I step into the room, which I can tell right away is one of the control rooms, gazing around at the setup. The monitors are displaying various parts of the East Wing, a large wall of servers opposite the desks. It’s pretty dark in here, the glow from the screens providing most of the light.

Everyone in the room isstaringat me. Two younger-looking guys sit in chairs by the desks, and a tall man whose face is vaguely familiar stands beside them. Joy is propped up on an empty desk with her arms folded over her chest… And in the middle of it all, the man of the hour.

Manuel Blanco.

The Warden of Alabaster Penitentiary isn’t around all that often, and believe me, we’re not upset about it. He’s like a ghost who haunts these weathered halls. You don’t see him, but you just know he’s there.

Frankly, the man has always scared the shit out of me, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. He’s creepy, with his affluent attire, pale skin, charcoal eyes, and bone-white hair. It doesn’t even matter that he’s technically attractive. His presence oozes evil.

I bet dogs bark at him for no reason.

Ren told me he goes byThe Ivory, a nickname given to him from his days as a hitman for the Colombian cartel. None of us know the true origin of this island, but it’s said that Alabaster Isle was a gift given to Manuel Blanco by the US Government—some sort of bargaining chip—with the stipulation that they could build a giant prison on it to house the country’s worst criminals; people they wouldn’t trust in the hands of federal prisons on U.S. soil.

You know, ones that actually have to adhere to constitutional law.

The Ivory wanted it to be more of an institution, where the morally bankrupt could be studied and experimented on, which is how the East Wing came to be. I’m guessing they compromised.

And like a real narcissistic sociopath, he also had a lavish mansion built on the other side of the island for himself and his minions… the guards.

I’ve never seen it. None of us have, but apparently, it’s quite the gaudy, sumptuous monstrosity. For all the stories passed around in the Pen, there’s still a great deal of mystery surrounding the Warden and his island kingdom. It’s all prisoner folklore. Who knows what’s true and what isn’t, but the fact remains…

Manuel Blanco,The Ivory, reigns over this rock in the middle of the ocean… And everyone on it.

The Warden watches me for a moment in silence, his lips quirking ever so slightly before he takes a step closer. I can’t even help it. I back up, bumping into Velle with a start. Velle shoves me forward, farther into the room, and my chains rustle with my anxious squirming.

“Lexington Deon,” the Warden sighs, moving up to the front of me. He’s got a solid few inches on me in height, but it feels like a fewfeetas I tip my chin upward to make eye contact. “My favorite of all my special little monsters. Wonderful to see you again. It’s been too long.”

I’m just gawking at him, fully speechless. I wouldn’t know what to say right now if I was given a year to prepare.

He looks over my head, nodding behind me. And Velle immediately unchains my wrists and ankles. “I trust that you’re faring well?” His black eyes freeze me solid. All I can do is blink. “You’ve been with us quite some time, haven’t you, #35? I can only hope you’re finding adequate ways to pass the time.”

My heart is jackhammering in my chest.What the hell does that mean? Does he already know about my computer blueprint?? Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.

“Nonetheless, this isn’t a social call,” he hums, pursing his lips. “Shame, too. You’re quite the conversationalist.” He grins, a smug display of power to frame his dickhead remark. “I require your expertise on something of the utmost importance.”

I finally manage a reaction, though it’s nothing more than a slow bob of my head.

“There’s a glitch in one of the servers.” He nods behind him. “Damn thing’s been on the fritz, I’m afraid. And there’s a big storm rapidly swooping up the East Coast, due to reach us in about a week’s time. I need to be assured that the servers will hold up, despite the weather conditions.”

My eyes glide around the room, to all the faces staring back at me blankly. My gaze lingers on Joy, since she’s the only person in this room I even remotely trust. As usual, she has no reaction.

Peeking back up at the Warden, I force my voice to scrape out the words, “Sure. No problem.”

He rubs his hands together. “Splendid. I knew I could count on you, Lexington.”

Stepping aside, he motions toward the servers. I barely make it an inch before he stops me, holding me in place by my shirt plucked between his long fingers.

“I know this goes without saying, 35… but if you screw this up, in any way, I will personally see to it that you’re hogtied and dropped into Shark Bay.”