“`html
Summary of this Story:
Sarah Hayes faces off with Deputy Warden Jen Brooks and the warden at Ironwood State Prison after a riot erupts in the yard. Accused of stirring trouble following the deaths of inmates Sheila and Maya, Sarah denies involvement while negotiating for a sit-down with Edna and early release promises. Tension builds as she walks the rec yard, calming her crew with a glance. Back in her cell, she gears up for the meeting amid ongoing violence and secrets about Murphy’s death. Jen’s loyalty strains under the pressure.
Why this story will hook you:
Man, that moment when Sarah yanks Jen close on the tight prison stairs, whispering it’ll work out right before they hit the warden’s oak door—you can almost feel the concrete dust on their boots and that quick hand squeeze loaded with worry. Then she stares down the warden over shiny black loafers, bargaining hard for her crew and those last two years, knowing one slip means Jen enforces the rules for real. Prison power plays don’t get tighter.
Check out your Story: In Ironwood, the Balance Begins to Tip – Chapter 8
“`
### Chapter 8 — An Internal Battle
Sarah leaned against the black Chevy van. Sun hammered down at ninety degrees Fahrenheit. Made the shouting from the prison yard even worse. She watched guards hustle outside the main gate to Ironwood State Prison. Noises from inside painted the picture. She let out a low chuckle.
Jen came back. Face tight with anger. “This your handiwork?” she asked.
“Handiwork in what?” Sarah shot back. She shrugged.
“You know damn well, Sarah Hayes.” Jen stared into her lover’s eyes. Shook her head. “Nothing good comes from this shit, you get me.”
“I got no clue what you’re talking about, Deputy Warden Brooks.” Sarah’s voice stayed light. That title—saved for their bunk on tier three—landed like a gut punch. “Cut it out.” Jen shut her eyes. Breathed deep. “Climb in the back. You’re using the warden’s entrance. She wants to talk.”
Jen snapped off the steel cuffs. Unlatched the rear doors. This time, slid in with Sarah. Rapped the roof twice. Van rolled toward the back lot. Aimed for the plain oak door into the admin building. Right to the warden’s office. Kept them out of sight. Extra safe.
Three flights of tight stairs ahead. Whole climb took two minutes. Not a word between them. Jen gripped Sarah’s hand. Squeezed once. Shot her a sideways look, eyebrows up. Sarah caught it. Tilted her head. “What?”
Jen managed a thin smile. Shook her head. “Nothing, hon.” Paused. “Wish you’d tipped me off.”
“About what, baby?”
“You know exactly.” Jen’s tone sharpened. “Place is falling apart right now.”
Sarah tugged Jen’s hand. Halted her. “Hell kicked off when they killed Sheila and Maya. Warden pushed me to rat. That’s when it all started.” Sarah’s eyes iced over. She yanked Jen close. Whispered, “It’ll work out. Trust me.”
Jen hugged back. Let out a sigh. Murmured, “Love you to death, but you scare the hell out of me sometimes, Sarah.”
They stepped out. Through the oak door. Up those three flights. Jen rapped on the heavy door stenciled *Warden*. Muffled voice called them in.
Face-Off in the Warden’s Office
Sarah strode inside. Still in the funeral getup Jen picked: black slim pants, white button-down, sloppy black tie, fitted blazer hugging her curves. Perfect fit. Eyes swept the room. Warden stood by the window. Gazed at inmates in the rec yard. Sarah planted herself at the desk. Waited till the warden dropped into her big leather chair. Jen stood behind Sarah. Hands locked behind her back.
“Look at the mess you kicked up, Hayes.” Warden spat it out. Paused. Voice rough. Jaw locked. Eyes blazing mad. “Hayes, we told you what happens if you go rogue.”
“Warden, no idea what you mean. Been at a funeral for a friend knifed on your watch.” Sarah stared the warden down.
Warden snorted. “Hayes, we know you run shit from anywhere. Told you not to pull stupid moves. You blew me off. Got privileges. We ignore your side hustles. Just want everyone doing time. Moving on. Quiet setup.” She flicked her hands.
Sarah stood firm. Listened. Then fired back. “Warden, Sheila had zero enemies. Maya was fresh meat. Their deaths ain’t on me or my crew.” Deep breath. “Said I’d wait for the state investigator. Never broke my word to you or Jen.” Straight-up lie. Bold as hell. Glanced back at Jen. Playful. Dead serious.
Jen felt that look. Felt the warmth hit.
Warden slapped palms on the desk. Rose. Leaned in. “Sarah, you’re a giant pain in my ass. You get if the brass sees this violence as too hot to bury, they boot me. Means Jen goes by the book. You won’t like her rules then.” Locked eyes with Sarah. “Want status quo? Shut it down. Clear?”
Sarah dropped her chin. Stared at her shiny black loafers. Lifted slow. Met the gaze. “Takes two to dance, Warden. Didn’t start this. Two of my girls are gone. No clue why.”
Warden held the stare. Then asked, “You fix it without more bodies piling up unexplained?”
“Why’s this all on me? Sheila and Maya dead for nothing. Nobody’s talking. Not you. Not the state guy. Not goddamn Edna. Don’t give a shit about your cushy gig. Only care about this woman behind me. Getting through her last two years.” Voice climbed. Eyes lit with fury. “Won’t play nice without real promises. Not this crap about reviewing my case. Or you blocking early out. Hard guarantees. Bulletproof. And a sit-down with that old hag.” Hate poured out. Spit flecked her lips. Drooled down her chin.
Jen laid a hand on her lover’s shoulder. Squeezed soft. Signal to chill.
Sarah covered it. Patted once. Peeked back into Jen’s eyes. Jen flashed a steady smile.
Standoff in the Yard
Warden sucked in a noisy breath. Blasted it out. “Sit-down with Edna? Easy. Since you won’t help the investigator, no bulletproof promises.” Dropped into the leather chair. “Early release? Off the table.” Eyes slid from Sarah to Jen. Talked at Sarah. “Your sentence is ironclad. Nobody cuts twelve years. Courts nailed you hard. Do every damn day.”
Sarah locked eyes with the warden. Steely. Shook her head. “That rare?”
Warden shrugged. “Pops up sometimes. Not much.” Glanced at Jen. Nodded. “Get her to her cell. I need you back here till we kill this riot.” Jerked thumb at the yelling outside her window.
Jen nodded. Took Sarah’s elbow. Steered her out. Let Sarah pick the speed.
Sarah muttered low. “Let ’em see me, Jen. Might cool things.”
Jen knew it’d work. Knew that wasn’t why Sarah picked the long route to her cell. Dressed sharp like that, she owned the place. They cut across the rec yard. Where shouts hit loudest. Yells. Screeches. Two gangs staring down. Guards wedged in. Batons out. Poised to crack skulls. Tension held. Kept cops jumping.
Sarah wore a ghost of a smile. Scanned for her crew. Wolf whistles kicked up. Crude shouts. Bree spotted her first. Sarah gave a quick head shake. Back-off signal. Bree grinned. Whistled shrill through her fingers. Her group peeled away slow. Inmates who owed them scattered from the face-off.
Jen missed the nod between Sarah and Bree. Felt it happen. “You’re some wizard, Sarah Hayes. You show up, shit calms. Sure you don’t know what went down?”
Sarah shook her head. “Jen, been stuck to you all day. How could I? Or set it off?” Paused. “These women are wired over Sheila and Maya.”
“Sarah, this ain’t about your girls. Murphy took a spill while we were gone. She’s dead too.”
“Oh no, what happened?” All wide-eyed innocence.
Jen nudged her shoulder. “Sound as sweet as you want, Sarah Hayes, we both know better.”
Sarah cracked up. “What goes around.”
They hugged the chain-link fence. Her crew clapped. Inmates grinned. Then headed to the chow hall.
Jen marched Sarah to her cell. Shoved her common-law inside. “You gonna spill?”
Sarah eyed her. Gut twisting. Spill it all—dump that weight on the woman she loved? Screw her over? Jen wasn’t as tough as her badge said. “Jen.” Snagged both hands. “If I tell, I screw my girls. Love you like crazy—and I do—can’t do it.” Yanked her close. Jen stiffened. Tried to break free. Sarah clamped on. “Ain’t letting go, baby.”
Jen wrenched back. Pecked her lips. Walked out.
Sarah stood there in the black outfit. Yanked open the locker. Eyed herself in the full-length mirror. Arched a brow. Grinned. Nodded. “Lookin’ good, Sarah.” Chuckled at her own jingle.
She swapped for prison blues. Hit the chow hall for grub.
Spotted Monica behind a new fish. Showing her the trays. Sarah grinned as she walked up. “Got any snacks, Monica?”
Monica beamed. “What kind?” Jerked chin at the newbie.
Sarah laughed. “Nah, Monica, food. Something sugary. Skipped lunch.”
Monica trailed a hand down the new inmate. “She’s pretty sweet, huh?”
Sarah halted. Locked eyes with the guard. “Bet she is. But I’m starving. Need chow.”
Mug of black coffee. Plate of donuts. Kitchen lady passed them over. Sarah mouthed thanks—to her, then Monica. Plunked at the closest table. Glanced back. Eyes on the new girl. Figured the dry storage room would see action soon.
Before she drained the coffee, Kris, Bree, and big beefy Brooke dropped in. Kris jumped in. “Sarah, Maguire ate it bad while you were out. Said to pass on ‘fuck you’—or close enough.” Forced grin.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah and no. Spoke in code. Eddie’s grandkid getting even. You footing the bill. Sheila squealed like a pig.” Kris’s eyes went flat steel.
Sarah hauled air. Blown out slow.
“Brooke’s tailing you awhile. Precaution,” Kris said.
“Hope she didn’t check out easy. Lots of hurt.”
Bree eyed her. Then her knuckles. Swollen. Crusted blood. Couple busted. Sarah saw. Sigh. “Can’t get ’em checked yet.”
“I know.”
Kris gazed at Bree soft. Mumbled, “You’re one loco bitch.” They snorted.
Bree tacked on, “Screamed plenty.” Grin there. Eyes dead.
Sarah scanned the table. Polished off the donuts. “What do we know now we didn’t?” Eyed each one. “Dead quiet means zip. Yeah?” Heads bobbed.
She buried her face in her hands. Elbows dug into the scarred Formica. “What pisses me off most? Not knowing. What’d tiny Maya do to earn it?”
“Only one with answers is that old bat Edna,” Kris said.
Sarah nodded deliberate. “Warden and Jen setting up a one-on-one. Me and her.”
“Wise? You got a fuse. Pound her ass—her big-shot pals can’t hush it,” Kris said. Blunt force.
“Not out to hurt her. Not right then. Crew’s lurking for sure. She yells—they swarm. Warden’s no fool.” Smirked.
“Just wanna know why.”
Brooke grabbed Sarah’s hand over the table. Squeezed light. The huge blonde flushed. Held on. Sarah let her. Smiled at her bodyguard. Felt the ease settle.
Later that afternoon, bunched on a splintered bench in their chunk of the rec yard. Winter sun slanted low, still packing heat. Fresh dust-up on the basketball court. One of Edna’s crew hit concrete. Nose smashed. Fingers bent backward. Kris didn’t glance. Bree neither. Grinned over the table. Kris scratched another name off the hit list with her Bic pen.
Sarah looked skyward. Shrugged. “Shit happens.”
That night, after rec hour, Sarah prepped for rack time. Down to panties and tank. Knock on the cell door. Standard for tier three. “Come in.” Warden stepped through. Clocked the inmate in sleep gear. Deep inhale. Eyes roamed her frame. Stuck on Sarah’s.
Sarah grinned. “Patty Madison not cutting it, Warden?”
“Patricia’s plenty. Way more polite than some.” Tomorrow, post-breakfast showers. You and Edna.” One wrong move from either, I bury you both for months. Not a warning—a fact.” Wheeled to go. Snapped back. “Hayes, end this. No more ‘accidents.'”
Sarah shrugged. “Beats me what you mean, Warden.”
Warden gripped the leather armrest one last time. The chair groaned under her fingers as she shoved up and slammed the door behind her. Sarah peeled off the tank top, tossed it on the bunk, and stretched out on the thin mattress, the metal springs digging into her back. Jen’s quick kiss still tingled on her lips. Outside, the yard lights buzzed faint through the bars. She’d face Edna tomorrow—get answers, keep her cool. Her crew had her six. For now, sleep tugged hard. She flicked off the overhead bulb with her knuckle, and the cell dropped into concrete quiet.
