Chapter 24: The Yard

The yard remains silent, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I can feel everyone's eyes on me, but I ignore them, turning my full attention to Liberty.

"Are you alright?" I ask, softer than I intended.

She nods, brushing herself off and trying to regain her composure. "Yes, thank you."

Her voice is steady, but I can see the lingering fear in her eyes, the slight tremble in her hands. It stirs something inside me, a need to protect, to shield her from the ugliness of this place. It's a dangerous feeling, one I haven't allowed myself in a long time.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," I say, my tone coming out harsher than I intended.

"I had guards nearby," she replies, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice.

"Not close enough," I counter, taking a step closer. The proximity makes my heart pound, awareness crackling between us like electricity.

She looks up at me, her eyes meeting mine with a mix of gratitude and defiance. "I can take care of myself."

I can't help the smirk that tugs at my lips. "Clearly."

Her cheeks flush, a delicate pink that makes her look even more beautiful, if that's possible. For a moment, we just stand there, locked in each other's gaze, the world around us fading into the background.

She's different. Not like the others who come here, thinking they can study us like lab rats and then leave unscathed. There's strength in her, a resilience that intrigues me, pulls me in despite all the warning signs screaming in my head.

"This place isn't safe for someone like you," I say, my voice dropping lower.

"And what kind of someone am I?" she challenges, raising an eyebrow.

"Someone good," I reply, surprising even myself with the honesty in my words. "Someone who doesn't belong in a place like this."

She blinks, taken aback by my response. Her eyes search mine, looking for something—deception, maybe, or hidden motives. But I let her see the truth, let her see that I'm not trying to play games here.

"I chose to be here," she says softly. "I want to understand."

"Understand what?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"All of it," she replies, gesturing around us. "The people, the dynamics, what makes this place tick."

I chuckle, a low sound that rumbles in my chest. "Careful, Professor. Curiosity killed the cat."

She smiles then, a small, genuine smile that lights up her face and makes my chest tighten. "Good thing I'm not a cat then."

The sound of approaching footsteps breaks the moment, and I glance over to see a group of guards heading our way, their expressions stern and suspicious. Time to go.

"Watch your back, Liberty," I say, letting her name roll off my tongue slowly, savoring the taste of it.

"I will," she replies, her eyes never leaving mine.

As I turn to leave, I feel a tug of reluctance, an urge to stay just a moment longer. But I can't afford that kind of distraction. Not here. Not now.

"Nik," I call out, nodding for him to follow as I walk away. The other inmates part around us, whispers and murmurs filling the air in our wake. I ignore them all, my mind still lingering on the feel of Liberty's gaze, the sound of her voice.

"That was quite the show," Nik comments once we're out of earshot, his tone laced with amusement.

"He crossed a line," I reply curtly, not in the mood for teasing.

"Sure," Nik drawls, a sly grin spreading across his face. "But since when do you play knight in shining armor?"

I shoot him a sharp look, but he just chuckles, unfazed.

"She's different," I mutter, more to myself than to him.

"I'll say," he agrees. "Just be careful, boss. Getting involved with someone like her... it's complicated."

"Everything in here is complicated," I retort, though I know he's right.

We make our way back to our corner of the yard, the adrenaline slowly ebbing from my veins. But even as I try to focus on the routine, my thoughts keep drifting back to Liberty—the way her eyes sparkled with fire and determination, the way her lips curved into that defiant smile.

It's dangerous, this fascination I have with her. Dangerous and reckless. But I can't seem to help it. In a place filled with darkness, she's a spark of light, and I'm drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

But I know better than anyone how easily that flame can burn.

As the day wears on, I keep my distance, watching her from afar as she continues her observations, this time with a guard hovering much closer. Good. At least someone's keeping an eye on her.

But even with the added security, I can't shake the feeling of unease. There are too many dangers here, too many shadows lurking in the corners. And now that she's caught the attention of the wrong people, it's only going to get worse.

That night, lying on the thin, hard mattress of my cell, I stare up at the cracked ceiling, my mind replaying the events of the day over and over. The feel of Miller's throat beneath my hand, the surge of protectiveness that overwhelmed me when I saw him grab her, the way her eyes met mine, full of gratitude and something else—something that made my heart beat just a little faster.

This is a mistake. Letting myself feel anything in here is a weakness, and weakness gets you killed. I should shut it down, bury these feelings deep where they can't hurt me.

But as I close my eyes, all I can see is her face, her smile, the way she stood up to me without fear. It's intoxicating, addicting even. And I find myself craving more.

Maybe it's already too late.

As sleep finally claims me, one thought lingers in the back of my mind, persistent and undeniable.

Liberty Lockwood is dangerous. Not because she's a threat, but because she makes me feel things I thought I'd long buried. And in a place like this, feelings can be fatal.

But despite all that, I can't bring myself to stay away.

And something tells me she doesn’t want me to stay away either.