“Nina?” She has a sweet voice. A trusting one. It doesn’t completely eradicate the trepidation coursing through me, but it sure helps to ease it. “You don’t know me, obvs, but my name is Sinclair Denali. A little birdy—as in, a member of my prison squad—told me you’re trying to get into Nightmare Penitentiary. Been there, done that, checked off that bingo square.” Her voice turns devious. “Basically, I was conveniently convicted, and I’m going to return the favor by helping you. Now, listen up. There’s a lot I have to teach you, my young apprentice. Let’s start with Pop Rocks…”
