CHAPTER 17
Five Days Later – Visitation Room
The air in the visitation room was thick with overlapping conversations, the smell of instant coffee, and the metallic tang of restraint chains. Viv walked in, wrists free but the faint red marks from the cuffs still visible. She spotted Daphne instantly — crisp white blouse, tailored navy trousers, posture loose enough to look casual but sharp enough to draw stares.
Viv slid into the seat across from her.
"Tu as pris ton temps," Viv said dryly.
Translation: You took your time.
Daphne smiled, leaning on the table. "Traffic was murder. You know how Paris gets."
Translation: I had to move carefully. The chip is ready.
Viv tilted her head, letting the "Paris" lie linger in the air. There were ears nearby — both correctional officers and inmates who remembered Lux's gossip about Viv's "French step-sister." The accent and the occasional French word were now part of the cover story.
"How's maman?" Viv asked, voice just warm enough to sound familial.
Translation: Has the asset been prepared?
"She's still reorganizing the vineyard," Daphne replied, brushing invisible lint off her sleeve.
Translation: The asset is clean, no traces. It's in position.
Viv's gaze flicked briefly to the coffee cup in front of Daphne. It wasn't from the prison vending machine — Daphne had brought it in sealed, "for herself." The bottom of the cardboard sleeve was slightly warped. She had used that trick before.
Daphne leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice in faux sibling intimacy.
"Oh, and I brought you a little piece of home. Couldn't resist."
Translation: The chip is hidden inside the sleeve. Take it when I leave it behind.
Viv gave the faintest nod, fingers tapping once on the table — acknowledgment received.
They kept the conversation flowing in light, airy French, switching to English here and there. They talked about "family vacations in Nice," "arguments over wine brands," and "who got the bigger bedroom" — all harmless, all fake. The guards looked bored; the nearby inmates smirked knowingly at the "spoiled step-sisters" drama.
When the hourglass of visitation finally began to run out, Daphne's eyes flicked toward the nearest C.O, then back to Viv. Time for the performance.
She pushed her chair back, stood, and leaned down with a grin.
"Give me a proper goodbye, little sister. None of that British cheek peck."
Viv stood too, meeting her halfway, and with the same measured calm she used in missions, she pressed her lips to Daphne's. It was unhurried but undeniably intimate — the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt. The guards didn't bother hiding their raised brows. The inmates watching from a distance exchanged knowing looks, some muttering.
The chip sleeve slipped easily into Viv's hand mid-kiss, masked by the angle of their bodies.
When they pulled apart, Daphne smirked like someone used to winning.
"À bientôt," she said softly.
Translation: Mission phase two begins now.
Viv gave her a slow nod. "À bientôt."
Translation: Understood. No mistakes.
As Daphne walked away, Viv palmed the coffee sleeve casually, sliding it under her arm with her visitation papers. By the time the C.O. checked her, it was just another piece of trash headed for her cell — nothing worth noticing.
Later that night — Cellblock C.
Viv waited until the cellblock was silent, guards lulled into their late-shift haze. She slid from her bunk without a sound. Pen was asleep, curled in the thin blanket, unaware.
Viv moved through the shadows, avoiding the main camera arcs. She knew the guard rotations by now — seven minutes where no one looked at Corridor East. She slipped through, her steps deliberate.
A utility door gave way to the admin hallway. At the far end: the small computer room the C.O.s used for reports. Viv slipped inside. The fluorescent light buzzed faintly.
She powered up a terminal, slotted in the chip from Daph. The secure interface unfolded before her. She began pulling data — internal memos, parole review schedules, disciplinary logs.
There. A note buried in a case file: a discrepancy in Pen's evidence chain. If leveraged correctly, it could accelerate her release.
Viv's mouth curved — not quite a smile, but close. She encrypted the findings back onto the chip, wiped all traces from the terminal, and slipped away as silently as she came.
Over the next week — gradual shifts.
Viv began spending more time near Pen — small conversations in the yard, casual jokes at meal times. Nothing overt, but enough to weave trust tighter. Pen was responding — quicker smiles, a readiness to sit next to Viv instead of others.
Lux noticed.
Recreation Yard — afternoon.
Lux cornered Pen by the benches, her tone syrupy but her gaze sharp. "Funny, isn't it? How quickly you've become Alex's favorite. She's not usually so... chatty."
Pen tensed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, I think you do." Lux's smile was almost kind. Almost.
Viv appeared before Pen could answer again. Her voice was quiet, but the weight behind it was enough to still the air. "Lux. Walk with me."
Lux arched a brow, followed.
Side corridor — out of earshot.
Viv leaned against the wall, her expression unreadable. "You're interfering."
"Am I?" Lux's smirk was deliberate. "Last time we were... close, I thought you liked the attention."
Viv's eyes narrowed. "Last time was because you wouldn't stop. Consider it a lesson in boundaries." Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "I don't repeat lessons."
Lux's smirk faltered — just for a second — before she masked it. "You're no fun, Alexine."
Viv stepped closer, close enough that Lux could see the warning in her gaze. "I'm not here for fun." Then she walked away, leaving Lux standing alone in the dim light, more intrigued — and frustrated — than before.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen3h.Co