Iron clashed shut and echoed off the cement. To make matters worse, I was locked in with him. The cool iron soothed my swollen knuckles as I leaned against the bars. I tried to ignore his pacing behind me as his new shoes scuffed the cement floor. I looked at the empty cells across the hall, wondering how we got into this mess.

“This is entirely your fault, Benjamin,” he said, still pacing behind me. “We wouldn’t be here if you would’ve followed the plan.”

I ignored him, placing my forehead against the bars to soothe my growing headache. The bright iridescent jail lights did not help.

His pacing stopped and he sighed before saying, “You’re just like your father. Impatient, hot-headed and—”

“I am nothing like him!” I shouted, gripping the iron bars as blood began to pulse in my ears and flare in my gut. I turned, rushing toward him and gripped him by his collar. “My plan would’ve worked just fine if you could keep up, Lorenzo!”

He scoffed and shoved off my grip. “First of all, thank you for proving my point,” he shouted. He pushed two fingers into my sore shoulder, pushing me back slightly. “But it’s hard to follow your lead when you only think of yourself and don’t communicate when you decide you want to change courses!” Lorenzo’s face was covered in dirt and dried blood. The bags under his eyes were a deep purple. I’m sure if I looked in a mirror, I would look rather similar.

I rolled my eyes. “Why are you so quick to judge me when you know nothing about me?” I asked.

His dark eyes took me in, assessing me. He rubbed at his dirty face before saying, “I know everything I need to know. You spend your life following your father’s footsteps. You were bred to be a selfish killer like him.”

I shook my head and looked away. “What makes you any better? You were the one that volunteered to do this assignment with me,” I stated.

“Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, right?” he said, dusting off his shoulder. He straightened his posture, his shoulders squaring as he cocked his head, eyes filled with mischief.

A chuckle escaped my lips as I shook my head. “We are not enemies, Lorenzo,” I mumbled, “I want nothing more than to be free of the title my father chains me to. I don’t want this life. I was just born into it. What’s your excuse?”

He was silent for a moment. His eyes drifted, a faraway look in his dark brown eyes. “What kind of life would you have wanted?” Lorenzo asked, ignoring my question.

I thought about it, though I’ve never been asked this question before. I took a step backwards to rest my back against the unforgiving iron bars and said, “Honestly, I don’t know. What I do know, however, is this is not the life I would’ve asked for if given the option.” It’s true. My father never wanted children- just soldiers from his own blood to carry on his ‘legacy.’ A life of crime doesn’t suit my fancy, but I never had a choice.

Lorenzo took up a spot beside me, looping his arms through the bars.

“If I had to choose freedom from my father or death, I would choose the latter,” I whispered, loud enough for him to hear.

I could feel his eyes on me, assessing me again. “Is that why you do this? Take on all these jobs?” he asked.

I nodded.

He asked, “Why don’t you run?”

“I have nowhere to run to and even if I did, he’d find me,” I said, turning to face the bars. Ironic, I’ve been locked behind bars my entire life and yet being here now, physically locked behind them, is nothing compared to the one my father has me in.

He shook his head. “I didn’t ask for this fate either, I only did it for survival,” Lorenzo whispered. Though he looked toward the cement floor, his shoulders folded inward, and his head hung slightly.

I knew there was more to his story than he let on. “Survival?”

Lorenzo nodded and said, “I needed to find a way to make my own money, separate from my father’s fortunes. His money tends to come with strings. I couldn’t keep an actual job so when your father offered me a position, I had no choice but to accept.”

No choice. Neither of us had a choice.

“I might know one place we could go where he might not find you,” he said quietly, as if my father could hear him.

I laughed and asked, “We?”

A ghost of a smile brightened his dirty face, “If were not enemies, like you say, life as runaways wouldn’t be so bad, I guess,” he said.

I chuckled and shook my head. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad to try. Or die trying.

Keys began to jingle down the hall, a guard appeared, and he reached for the ring holding a variety of them. Lorenzo and I watched as the guard shoved a key into the iron lock, a click and the guard opened the door to our cell. “You both met bail,” he said, his voice rough, before he began back down the hall.

“I forgot to mention, my dad was my one phone call. I might have mentioned you,” Lorenzo said, a smirk plastered on his face as he took in my confusion. “Looks as if he found your freedom to hold some value.”

“Should we hit up another bank before we run?” I asked, sarcasm laced in my words.

Lorenzo chuckled, shaking his head and shoved my sore shoulder again, but it was different somehow.

The same smirk filled my face, and we walked out from the iron bars, both physical and mental, that held us bound.