Had Elijah been in this type of misery for the past year while I enjoyed wine and chocolates with the girls? Guilt coursed through my chest as I adjusted my mask for the umpteenth time, hoping he wouldn't recognize me. I couldn't avoid the confrontation forever, but I didn't need that drama on top of our prison break. The smell of stale air and despair hung heavy in the cell, a stark contrast to the sweet scent of the perfumes the girls and I wore.

Jasmine's hands glowed as she slowly manipulated the iron bars to flex like they were made of putty. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her face contorted with concentration. The metal groaned and twisted, the sound grating against my nerves.

"Whoa!" Elijah said, raising his shackled hands. "I gave up my life of crime. I'm no threat." His voice was rough, like he hadn't used it in a while. It sent a shiver down my spine, memories of late-night whispers and passionate moral debates flooding back.

"Oh sure, because nothing says 'I'm no threat' like being in prison," Natalie called from behind the guard's station, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What are you in for? Jaywalking? Overdue library books?"

"We're on your side," Jasmine gritted out. I expected something more long-winded from her, but her face said those four words took more energy than she had. The bars continued to bend, creating an opening just large enough for us to slip through.

I wanted to say something clever and sarcastic like, "This proves how wonderful of an ex-wife I am, breaking my murderous husband out of prison," or "Remember all those mediocre meals I cooked for you? Well, after prison food, I bet you finally realize they were gourmet." But I didn't want my ex-husband to recognize my voice, at least not until I had to unveil my identity. Instead, I kept quiet, my heart pounding in my chest, threatening to burst out like an alien from a sci-fi movie.

The shackles binding my ex's wrists were attached to the wall by long cables, allowing him to move within his cell, but they must have been burdensome. The skin around the cuffs was red and raw. If only they'd introduce fuzzy handcuffs in prison. I bet he'd look nice in a purple pair to match his worn, but clean orange prison jumpsuit.

His clenched jaw and narrowed eyes watched me intensely with each breath I took. His brown hair was longer, like he hadn't cut it in a year. His normal buzz had grown out into waves that framed his face, making him even more delectable. I fought the urge to run my fingers through those unruly locks.

And his body had changed. He had always been fit from running and cycling, but now, his leanness was gone, replaced by muscular bulk. The lengths he had to go to change his body like that all while being tied up to the wall like a wild animal made that guilt I felt soften me further. I remembered our morning jogs, the way we'd race each other to the finish line, always ending in a tie and a kiss.

In a rush of lust, my body reacted to the sight of the man I had once loved. Damn. Was this the suppressed emotions I had been thinking about earlier? They were coming back with a vengeance.

I reminded myself that his little villain hobby had put my life at risk. He had lost his conscious and killed someone. And that when faced with the choice of achieving his goal or saving me, he hesitated. You don't hesitate with love. The memory of that moment, watching him decide, still haunted my dreams.

Jasmine made a big enough hole between the bars that we could slip inside his cell. "I'm done." She stumbled back and grabbed the iron grid to hold herself up. "Get him out. I need time to recover.”

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"There is no time," Hannah buzzed in our ears, her voice tense. "I can see the guards making their way through the security system, doing a sweep and coming your way. And this freak thunderstorm turned tornado warning I whipped up won't distract them forever."

"Then we're going to have to abort." Jasmine was breathless and her other hand shook as she used it to help her down to the ground.

"Oh no, don't leave me here with all the luxurious amenities," Elijah caught me with the intensity of his emerald eyes. "You need me to escape this paradise and go back to the real world."

Suddenly, I felt like Jasmine. Completely useless. I glanced over my shoulder at Natalie, watching the guards and holding her hands out with glowing fingertips, ready to put them to sleep when any opportunity presented itself.

And dang. That left me.

I took a deep breath and entered my ex's cell, the confined space making the air feel thick and heavy.

"Get these shackles off and stand back. Prepare to be amazed at how I can help." His words were softer than before as he offered me his wrists. "I promise not to sonic boom you into next week. Scout's honor."

The cuffs were a big problem. Elijah could create a sonic boom by clapping his hands together, and a fixed metal rod attached between the cuffs held apart his hands. I wondered how he got those bulging biceps of his with his hands bound. I guess pushups and pullups with the cuffs explained his scarred wrists.

I ran my hands along the cuffs, doing my best not to touch him anymore than necessary. The memories of our life together were already clouding my focus. His shackles were digital, making the lock picking skill I had perfected over the past few months irrelevant. So much for those late nights practicing with bobby pins and YouTube tutorials.

"The chickens over there in the coop have a magnetic device." Elijah nodded towards the bulletproof guard station where Natalie was still on watch. "Unless you'd prefer to saw through these with a plastic spoon. I've got plenty of time."

But if we penetrated their shelter, we were at risk of their weapons. The bullet proof glass protected them, but it also protected us. I turned his hands over, seeing the scabbed and scarred skin on his wrists and the illness in my stomach intensified, overshadowing the sizzling electrical hum that brought memories of his touch into my mind. I had taken a vow that we'd love and cherish each other for better or for worse and to death do us part. He had needed me this past year, and I had bailed. The weight of my choices pressed down on me, threatening to crush me.

But I couldn't think about that now.

I turned the device, examining if there was a manual override that I could pick. Maybe I could channel my inner MacGyver and use a hairpin and some chewing gum.

And that's when I made the mistake of looking up into his green eyes at this closeness. My heart pitter-pattered at the intensity of his gaze. But then his face hardened.

"Emily." The way Elijah spat out my name was like acid on his tongue. Each syllable laced with disgust and hatred. This was a bad idea. Right now, Madison's heat touch would be more helpful at getting these shackles off and all she was doing was guarding the getaway van. When we had planned our master plan, I tried convincing the girls that Elijah wouldn't come with me, but they hadn't listened. They said he'd trust me. That he'd forgive.

And there was a part of me, deep down, that hoped they were right.

But there was nothing on his face that said he forgave me now.

Elijah leaned back and took in my entire getup, making all my badass pride disappear like Snickers bars on Halloween.

"Well, well, well, look who finally graced me with her presence." Elijah tsked his tongue, keeping his voice quiet enough that the conversation was only shared between the two of us. "Feeling guilty? Or were you just really, really into the whole prisoner fantasy thing?"

My mouth went dry, memories of heated nights together flashed through my mind.

"No." Yes. "Not guilty at all." Could he see through my lie hiding behind a leather mask? I felt like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, only the cookie jar was a maximum-security prison.

All the drama I had hoped wouldn't be unleashed was about to come crashing down on me full force.

And worst of all?

Hannah's crackly voice yelling in my ear that the guards were only one corridor away.