Free?

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Silas' POV:

I don't like this cell, but does that surprise anyone? It's cold, I'm tired and uncomfortable, and my wrists are sore and now bruised because the cuffs are holding my wrists so tight. Finally, since my dad told me not to, I haven't spoken to anyone, not even gotten to tease the officer standing outside my cell.

I feel like shit, since sleep has been pretty much impossible with how anxious I am, plus the bed is so uncomfortable that even if I was anxiety free, I probably wouldn't get much rest. It's eleven in the morning when my cell door is opened and I'm taken away from the cell.

"What's going on?" I ask as I'm brought to the lobby where my dad, Lincoln, and Atticus are.

My dad holds his hand out and is given a key. "Thank you," he says, guiding me through the front door and toward Atticus' car.

"Dad? What's happening?" I ask, blinking to keep myself awake.

He doesn't respond and I feel the cuffs on my wrists being unlocked. "You're free," he tells me. "You'll get an explanation soon, but for now, just go home with these two. I'm going back home."

"But-"

"Quiet," my dad orders, taking the cuffs away and handing them to Atticus. "Just go home, Silas. They'll explain everything to you."

I don't know how they got me out of jail, but I think I owe it to my dad to listen and wait until I'm back at Atticus and Lincoln's place before I hammer them with questions.

"If something else happens, call me," dad says before getting in the Uber he must have called and taking off.

I'm silent as I get into the back seat of Atticus' car, and neither of the two men in the front seat speaks with me. They must be so mad; I totally turned their lives upside down by getting arrested and they're probably annoyed that they had to spend time trying to get me out of there.

They should've just left me.

We get to the house after about thirty minutes and I can see how tired the two men are as we walk inside.

"Agh, your wrists," Lincoln says, looking at the angry bruises. "Come here."

He makes me sit down in one of the kitchen chairs and wipes off the sweat from being in the cuffs for so long before he wraps them before oth in ice packs to bring down some of the swelling.

"What happened?" I ask, because I'm shocked that they were able to get me out of jail within twenty four hours. "How am I free?"

Atticus is leaning against the wall. "The DNA from the first attack didn't match yours and there was no proof of you in the streets near the apartment building when it blew up, so they decided to release you because we have proof that you were attacked by someone with Mistacesemia."

"Did you get a name?" I ask, because I want to know what bastard attacked me.

"Yes," Lincoln responds. "And they're putting her face on the news so they can capture her."

I sigh in relief, because that's nice to know. "How did your ass of a boss allow that?"

"We spoke to the guys above him," Atticus tells me. "They came in to take you to an actual prison, but we presented our evidence and statement, and they decided you were being unfairly tried. It helped a lot that you didn't attack anyone and let them take you."

That's nice to know, because I don't really want to deal with being brought to an isolated prison. I'm exhausted, but I smile tiredly at the two because they didn't have to help, but I know they were involved.

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