44. Mason

Mason

“ Y ou sure this shit is going to work?”

Logan tosses his cigarette butt out the window.

“No.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze hard as he surveys the parking lot in front of us. “Do we have another choice?”

“No.”

He nods, reaching for the handle on his door before stopping. We’ve been out here for an hour, going over the plan. A plan that could go one of two ways, neither promising a free life after.

“Remember, Mr. Walker,” he nods to the nametag on my contraband uniform. “You work for the California Department of Corrections and this inmate is already dying.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, climbing from the passenger seat of the old prison van, a cold indifference settling in my chest. “Yeah, he fucking is.”