Freedom!!!
“Your sentence is served. Good luck out there.”
Officer Sarah Bennett’s voice was firm but not unkind as she unlocked the cell door.
I lifted my head slowly, the familiar clang of the metal door echoing like a drumbeat in my chest. She stood tall and composed in her navy uniform, her ash-blonde hair pulled into a regulation-tight bun, not a strand out of place.
Her face was stone, but I’d seen enough of her over the last two years to know it wasn’t indifference—it was habit. Detachment was survival here.
A small smile touched my lips, quiet and steady.
This was it. The moment I’d counted down to.
The breath I held through every sleepless night.
Freedom.
I stepped out of the cell, head high, trying to hide the tremor in my knees. The corridor buzzed with low murmurs—claps, a few nods, even a “good luck” tossed from a corner bunk. Inmates I’d barely spoken to offered quiet farewells.
But one voice cut through the noise.
“Alice.”
I stopped cold, and turned.
Claire stood behind the bars of her cell, both hands gripping the cold steel, her dark eyes hollow but locked on mine like she was memorizing my face.
She wasn’t crying—Claire didn’t cry.
She stared like someone watching a train leave the station, knowing damn well it would never come back.
Her sentence was for life. No parole. No appeals left.
She didn’t kill the man, but she did set the fire that burned everything around him. The kind of truth the court didn’t care to untangle.
I walked over, our steps echoing like a slow drumbeat. She pressed her fingers through the gap. I slipped mine through to meet hers.
“Looks like I was right after all.”
I looked at her, confused for a beat. “Right?”
She nodded once. “You said you’d never make it out. I told you you would.”
My throat tightened. I tried to speak, but my voice cracked more than I wanted it to.
“I didn’t believe it anymore.” I murmured, avoiding contact with her eyes.
“But I did,” she said. “Every damn day.” Her voice was soft, but steady.
Claire offered a sad smile through the bars.
“You’re free now, Alice. Don’t waste it looking back.”
I gripped her hand tighter. “You’re not part of my past, Claire. I’m not leaving you behind.”
She shook her head. “I’m not getting out of here. We both know that.”
I leaned closer, my voice low and certain.
“Then I’ll break the damn door down. You believed in me when no one did. I won’t forget that.”
She gave a faint laugh, dry as dust. “Alice… I’m never leaving these walls. But you? You’re going to burn down stages. Or cities. Whatever the hell you want.”
Something thick rose in my throat.
“You saved me in here,” I whispered.
“No,” she argued, her voice suddenly sharp. “Save yourself, out there.”
We held onto each other for a second longer—one heartbeat, then another—until Officer Bennett’s voice barked behind me.
“Let’s go, Rodriguez.”
Claire let go first.
“I’ll find a way to send music your way,” I teased as I backed up.
“I’ll be listening,” she smiled, “even if it’s through static and steel.”
I laughed at her response, my eyes locked with hers. They softened, reluctant.
I didn’t want to leave her alone in here.
“I’ll make sure you’re out of Claire. I’m going to reopen your case. Whatever it takes.”
Her arms tightened around me, but before either of us could say more, Officer Bennett cleared her throat sharply.
“Move. Now.”
I gave Claire one last squeeze before stepping back, nodding as if to promise her one last time.
Then I turned away. Because looking back too long felt like betrayal.
But I wouldn’t forget her. Not now. Not ever.
The hallway was colder than I remembered. Sterile. White.
Everything buzzed under the flicker of fluorescent lights.
I was escorted to the chief officer’s office. Daniel Cross. A name I’d heard more often than I’d seen the man himself.
His office smelled like old wood and lemon cleaner. The desk was heavy and worn, cluttered with files and a single steaming mug of coffee.
A gold nameplate read “D. Cross, Chief Officer.”
The blinds behind him were partially open, letting in a ray of mid-morning sun that slashed across the floor.
Daniel Cross was in his late forties, built like a boulder with a graying beard that framed a face far too expressive for a man in charge of locking people away.
His eyes were deep-set, intelligent, and tired. Maybe he’d seen too many broken souls.
He gestured for me to sit and slid the paperwork across the desk.
“Sign here. Here. And… here.”
My hand trembled slightly as I picked up the pen. The ink felt heavy as I wrote my name for the last time as an inmate.
Alice Rodriguez.
Wrongfully convicted. Finally free.
I stood to leave, gripping the discharge form like it might vanish if I blinked.
“Wait.”
His voice stopped me.
I turned, and found him staring—not coldly, but with something close to hope.
“Don’t come back here, Alice,” he advised. “You have a bright future ahead of you. You’ve paid the debt. The world awaits you.”
Something in me cracked.
For a second, I wanted to speak. To explain. I didn’t do it. I didn’t commit the crime I am being accused of.
But what would that change? I was already walking out.
So I just gave him a faint smile. A nod, then I turned and left.
The world awaits you.
Funny.
That was the exact line Marcus Hale—my producer—told me the day he signed me to his record label.
The day that possible set the ground for my downfall.
Back then, the world was screaming my name, throwing roses at my feet. Now? It barely whispered me.
But this time, that line meant something else.
It wasn’t about music charts or stadium lights. It was about reclaiming every piece of me they tried to bury.
The world awaits me.
And I’m not walking into the world with a mic this time— I’m walking in with questions.
Why did he vanish? Why didn’t anyone fight for me? Why did the calls stop, the letters go silent?
Four months he promised me—just four. But two years passed, and nothing.
No Rick. No lawyers. No answers.
Now, I’m not looking for fame. I’m looking for him, and I want the truth served raw.
The prison gates creaked shut behind me with a finality that felt like both an ending and a beginning. I stepped out, heart pounding in my chest, knees a little weak, but my head was high.
I exhaled hard, as if trying to breathe out the years I’d lost. Then I shut my eyes, tilted my face toward the sun, and spread my arms. The warmth soaked into my skin, kissing the shadows off my bones. It was the first time in forever I felt something that didn’t hurt.
Freedom.
It tasted like hope and smelled like fresh asphalt and spring wind. I felt like someone had just handed me my sight after years of blindness.
And then, a tap on my shoulder, yet I didn’t move.
Part of me—some fragile, naive piece—hoped it would be him. Rick. That his voice would break through the quiet and make everything make sense.
But it wasn’t a man.
“Hello, Miss Alice,” a woman’s voice greeted me.
I opened my eyes and turned slowly.
She was tall, maybe mid-thirties, with cool brown eyes, auburn hair tied into a low bun, and a nurse’s uniform that looked too clean for this grimy place.
Her face was calm—almost blank—but her eyes held something like sympathy.
I blinked at her, confused. “Who are you?”
She pulled out a badge clipped to her chest. “Emma Ward. I’m your grandmother’s nurse.”
My stomach dropped.
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
My grandmother.
The woman who raised me. Who gave everything she had so I could stand on a stage, bathed in lights and applause. Who skipped her medication just to buy me a better mic.
And yet… I never told anyone to go to her when I was arrested. I never asked my lawyers. Never once did I say her name.
I’d been so selfish—so obsessed with Rick’s silence, with my broken dreams, with the betrayal that I forgot the only person who truly loved me unconditionally.
Tears stung my eyes.
“My grandma?” I croaked. “She’s in Venice?”
Emma nodded. “Yes. She’s been waiting. And she still believes in you.”
I bit down on my trembling lip.
“Come with me,” she urged softly. Her gaze dropped to my clothes. “But first, let’s make you presentable.”
I looked down at the faded, oversized prison-issued clothes and gave a small, sheepish smile.
“Right,” I whispered.
We walked to a dark grey car waiting at the corner of the lot. She slid into the front passenger seat, and I climbed into the back.
“Let’s go, driver,” she ordered.
I didn’t ask questions yet there was too much I didn’t know, too much I needed to understand.
But one thing was clear: my wings were no longer clipped. I was free, and this time, I’d fly.
But God, I hoped I wouldn’t crash again.
As the car pulled out of the station, I turned to look one last time.
And that’s when I saw her.
A robust woman, cheeks glistening with tears, a look of pure devastation on her young face as two officers dragged her in handcuffs toward the gates.
Her floral blouse was wrinkled, her lipstick smudged. She fought against them, crying, “Please! I didn’t do anything. I swear, I didn’t do anything!”
My heart clenched.
It was like watching myself all over again. I shut my eyes, and swallowed the lump in my throat.
That girl was just beginning her nightmare.
And I… I was finally waking from mine.
Hi lovely readers,
I know most of y’all love quick actions and all, but this book is set to be different. You will need patience for character growth and development especially from the ML. Also, if you’re good at decoding minds, interested in some hot mafia content with smuts, and badass ladies. You’re in the right library, so buckle up your seatbelts. 😉
The main lead characters get to meet in the 3rd/4th chapter but effective dialogues that kick the story starts from the 7th chapter. Please be patient, I have a lot in stored and I hope y’all will love it just as I love writing it.
Thank you and a happy reading.