The transport bus shook violently as its heavy tires crossed the narrow iron bridge crossing the East River toward Rikers Island.
Inside the bus were thirty prisoners who sat chained wrist to waist along the steel benches.
The cold wind ran through the gaps of the windows, but Ryder barely felt the chill of it. His mind was trapped in the suffocating thoughts of Ava's smirk and her finger tapping her watch.
Every time the bus shook, he received a sharp spike of pain through his wrists where the cuffs bit into the bruises left from Ava slamming him face first into the cruiser's hood when he got arrested.
And what hurt more was the memory of the photograph she had shoved into his lap, Maya on the porch, and little six month old Leo smiling innocently from beneath the blankets of his stroller.
