Plan B

The air was tense as Miranda parked her car outside Havenbrook Correctional Facility. Her fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel as she glanced at the package on the passenger seat—a discreetly wrapped phone. The weight of it felt oppressive, a reminder of the risk she was taking.

This wasn’t the plan. Bree should have done it. The thought gnawed at her, but there was no turning back now. Garrett was expecting results, and she couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing him.

She took a deep breath and grabbed the package, stepping out of the car into the cool air. As she walked toward the entrance, she rehearsed her story. It’s a personal package. Research materials. I have clearance.

But the moment she stepped inside, her nerves spiked. Valeria Santos was there, stationed near the checkpoint, her sharp eyes scanning the room.

“Dr. Wong,” Valeria greeted, her tone neutral but her gaze lingering on the package in Miranda’s hand.

Miranda **** a smile. “Valeria.”

Valeria’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

Before Miranda could respond, her attention was drawn to another figure standing near the door—Heather. She stood awkwardly with a folder clutched tightly to her chest, her gaze darting around nervously, avoiding eye contact with anyone. The tension in her posture was palpable.

Valeria’s lips curled into a smirk as she spotted Heather. “What are you still doing here, Muñeca?” she called out, her tone laced with condescension.

Heather flinched at the sound of her name. “I… I just needed to drop off some paperwork,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Valeria rolled her eyes dramatically. “Always the diligent one. No wonder you’ve got no one waiting for you at home.”

Heather’s cheeks flushed red, and she lowered her gaze to the floor, her fingers tightening around the folder.

Miranda watched the exchange from the corner of her eye, her mind whirring. Interesting. Heather was clearly an easy target for Valeria. She was the typicall white Allay White Girl—just the type of person someone like Valeria and her Gang of Latina Guards would enjoy tormenting.

As Heather turned to leave, her eyes met Miranda’s for a brief moment. There was a flicker of something there—hope, perhaps? Or desperation? It lingered for only a second before Heather quickly averted her gaze and hurried out the door.

Valeria cleared her throat, pulling Miranda’s attention back to the present. “Now, what’s in the bag?”

Miranda’s heart raced, but she **** a calm smile. “Just some materials for the ongoing research project. Sensitive data Anita asked me to bring in.”

Valeria’s brow lifted. “Mind if I take a look?”

Miranda hesitated for a split second before nodding. “Of course. Though it’s mostly confidential.”

Valeria’s expression didn’t waver. She reached for the bag, unzipping it methodically. As her hand brushed the phone, her eyes darkened. “This doesn’t look like research equipment.”

Miranda’s mind raced. “It’s a device prototype for inmate behavioral analysis. We’ve been testing modifications.”

Valeria wasn’t convinced. “Really? I should probably run this by Anita.”

Miranda quickly interjected, her voice calm but insistent. “Actually, I left the primary documentation in my car. Let me grab it for you. It will explain everything.”

Valeria tilted her head, studying Miranda for a long moment before nodding. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

Miranda walked back to her car, forcing herself to appear composed. Her heart was pounding as she opened the door and placed the phone inside. Leaning against the car, she took a deep breath to steady herself.

Too close. Way too close.

She grabbed a random folder from the backseat, then returned to Valeria with a carefully crafted smile.

“Here it is,” she said, handing over the folder. “You’ll find the details inside.”

Valeria flipped through it briefly before handing it back. “All right. Just make sure everything checks out.”

Miranda nodded, her relief hidden beneath a mask of professionalism. As she walked away, her resolve hardened. I won’t fail him again.

Her footsteps echoed through the sterile hallway as she made her way toward the staff wing. The further she walked, the heavier her failure weighed on her.

The phone. Garrett’s request. Her task. Each failed step felt heavier than the last, a reminder that she had let him down. Images of Garrett’s disappointment filled her mind—his cold stare, the way his lips would curl into a disapproving smirk. The thought of his punishment sent shivers down her spine, both terrifying and intoxicating. He'll know I failed. He'll remind me why I can’t make mistakes. Her breath quickened as she imagined his voice, sharp and commanding. On your knees, Miranda. Now. The anticipation twisted inside her, guilt blending with a dark thrill she couldn’t deny.

And she had failed.

As she turned the corner toward the break room, her gaze landed on Bree. The younger woman stood awkwardly by the vending machine, sipping from a water bottle. Her face lit up as soon as she spotted Miranda, her eyes filled with cautious hope.

“Miranda,” Bree said softly, almost like a question. She stepped forward slightly, her expression tentative, as though seeking reassurance. There was a vulnerability in Bree’s gaze—a flicker of guilt and longing.

She’s hoping I’ll understand. She’s hoping I’ll forgive her.

But Miranda couldn’t afford to show warmth. Not now.

With a cold, detached expression, Miranda kept walking. Her heels clicked steadily against the polished floor, each step echoing louder in Bree’s ears. She didn’t even glance Bree’s way.

Bree’s hopeful expression faltered. Confusion clouded her features, quickly replaced by hurt. Her mind raced as she tried to understand the sudden coldness. Why is she looking at me like that? Did I mess up? Did I push too hard? The sting of rejection settled deep in her chest, and her shoulders sagged as she watched Miranda walk away without a word. I thought we had a connection. Maybe I imagined it. Bree bit her lip, fighting back the embarrassment creeping up her neck. God, I’m such an idiot.

Once out of sight, Miranda leaned against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut. Her chest tightened with frustration, shame, and dread. The walk to the treatment room felt endless, each step echoing like a countdown in her mind.

As she approached the door, her heart pounded louder. She paused for a brief moment, trying to steady her breath before pushing it open. The familiar sterile scent greeted her, but her focus was on one thing—him.

Garrett sat calmly in the chair, his posture relaxed but his presence dominating the room. His gaze lifted as the door creaked open, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. A faint smirk played on his lips, but his fingers drummed idly on the armrest—a subtle, rhythmic sound that sent a chill down Miranda's spine. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto hers, dissecting every nuance of her expression before she even spoke.

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Miranda.”

Her stomach knotted. The sound of his voice was both a balm and a curse. She stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then, his eyes flicked to her empty hands.

“Where is it?” he asked, his voice low but commanding.

Miranda’s heart sank. Panic gripped her chest, and she struggled to find words. “I...”

Garrett leaned forward slightly, his smirk fading into something darker. “You failed me.”

Her breath hitched, and shame washed over her like a tidal wave. Her knees trembled slightly, and she clenched her fists at her sides to steady herself. The cold air of the room seemed heavier, pressing down on her shoulders, making her feel smaller, more ****.

“Tell me,” Garrett said softly, his tone laced with dangerous calm. “What do you think happens next?”

Miranda's stomach twisted painfully. Shame burned in her chest, her pulse quickening as she imagined the punishment he would demand.

Dear readers,

I wanted to let you know that I won't be able to maintain the same morning pacing from last week, as my regular work schedule is kicking in again. Over the past few days, I've been experimenting a lot with AI-generated imagery, and you'll see some of the results reflected in the next chapter, which will be published within the next few hours.

Looking ahead, I aim to release 1-3 chapters per week. I’m truly grateful for the amazing feedback I’ve received so far — you guys are incredible, and your support blows me away!

And don’t worry — I wouldn’t dare leave you hanging for a whole week after that cliffhanger. I’m not that cruel... yet.

Stay tuned,

Gerx