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Eleni I fidget with the waistband of the leggings Dante packed in the bag for me to change into before entering the prison and wish they hadn’t taken my ring. Apparently, the whole “no metal allowed” thing isn’t really negotiable. A burly woman stands on the opposite side of the table from me, one hand on her thick baton and the other on a walkie-talkie. I clear my throat. “Vanessa?” She quirks an eyebrow at me. “Hank sent me.” I feel ridiculous. All these code words…it’s like I’m in a kid’s movie, not a women’s prison upstate. Still, that makes Vanessa hit something on her walkie that dims the constant static pouring from it a second before the door buzzes loudly. I look up. Escorted by two more guards, chained wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle, Camila stumbles in through the heavy
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