Chapter 13: Whispers in Redhaven
Time slipped by, and ten days passed in the blink of an eye.
During this period, Tommy remained in the infirmary, his injured arm carefully tended to each day by Dr. Sara Tancredi. Under her meticulous care—and Tommy's deliberate charm—their relationship deepened. Their conversations grew warmer, their gazes lingered longer, and an invisible line between them thinned day by day, waiting to be crossed.
While Tommy enjoyed his comfortable days, news of him spread like wildfire throughout Redhaven Prison.
Whispers echoed in every cell block: the newcomer who crippled Tea Bag.
Inmates who had lived under Tea Bag's cruelty for years now celebrated quietly. Had the guards not intervened, it was said, Tommy might have killed him outright. The White Gang, once feared, had lost its tyrant.
No one rejoiced more than the Black Gang.
For years, Tea Bag's White Gang had tormented them, fueled by racism and the natural disunity among the Black inmates. Petty disputes often divided them, leaving them weaker, fractured, and easy prey. But now, with Tea Bag lying in a hospital bed and his grip loosened, the Black Gang seized the chance to reclaim lost ground.
And they weren't the only ones.
Other groups in Redhaven saw opportunity. Rival gangs carved up the White Gang's turf, territories changing hands almost daily. The once-dominant White Gang now shrank into shadows.
Amid this chaos, one name rose louder than all others:
Tommy Vercetti.
---
And what was Tommy doing while his reputation spread?
Not plotting. Not fighting.
But inside the medical room's storage closet, with Sara Tancredi pressed against him.
Their lips met in a desperate kiss, the air hot and heavy with forbidden desire.
It was ironic. On her first day, Sara had been warned: never get attached to inmates. But she had failed spectacularly. The rugged prisoner with the haunted eyes and dangerous charm had pulled her in, and despite every reason to resist, she couldn't stop herself.
Sara's lab coat was half-unbuttoned, Tommy's prison uniform loosened. A doctor and a criminal, worlds apart, yet tangled together in a reckless embrace.
The disparity between them—the governor's daughter and a mafia heir—should have repulsed her. Instead, it only added fuel to the fire, a taboo thrill that sent shivers down her spine.
Then—
Knock. Knock.
"Dr. Tancredi! An inmate needs treatment!"
The sharp voice outside jolted Sara like a current of electricity. She pulled back, breathless, her cheeks flushed.
"Doctor, are you in there?" The voice came again, firmer this time.
Sara exhaled, frustrated, then shot Tommy a glare before scrambling for her discarded clothes. With hurried motions, she buttoned her coat, smoothed her hair, and forced her expression back into professionalism.
When she finally opened the door, the guard waiting outside noticed the color in her cheeks, his eyes narrowing briefly. But he said nothing. The situation outside was far too urgent.
Moments ago, a clash between the Black Gang and the remnants of the White Gang had spiraled out of control. At first, fists flew, but within minutes, knives were drawn. Blood sprayed. An inmate fell, clutching his gut, a blade lodged deep inside.
Now chaos rippled through the prison. Guards scrambled to contain a brawl that threatened to consume the entire yard. The guard at the door barely had time to drop off the injured man before rushing back to reinforce his comrades.
Sara shut the door behind her, relieved. If word ever got out about her closeness with Tommy, the consequences would be devastating. She didn't fear gossip from staff or inmates. What she feared was her father.
The Governor of Palermo Province would never allow his daughter's reputation to be tainted by an affair with a prisoner. If he discovered the truth, Sara would be pulled from Redhaven at once, separated from Tommy forever.
That, she could not allow.
---
"Doctor, I think I'm dying!"
The wounded man groaned on the operating table, clutching at the knife sticking from his stomach. His name was Lance Vance, Redhaven's unofficial storekeeper.
Anything you wanted—cigarettes, magazines, contraband drugs—Lance could get it, for a price. His connections outside made him untouchable inside. For years, no one dared to lay a hand on him.
Until today.
If he hadn't wandered into the crowd to watch the brawl, the blade wouldn't have found him. Now, pale and trembling, tears streamed down his cheeks as he muttered prayers under his breath.
"Oh Lord, forgive me, forgive my sins…"
The singsong rhythm of his desperate prayer grated on Sara's nerves. Worse, he wouldn't stay still as she tried to clean the wound. Her irritation flared.
"Tommy! Come help me!" she called sharply.
Tommy stepped out of the storage closet, straightening his prison blues. Sara wanted him to pin Lance down so she could work without interruption.
But the moment Lance heard the name, his eyes went wide with terror.
"Tommy? Which Tommy? No… no, don't tell me it's that Tommy!"
He stared at Sara, then at the man approaching him, and his dark face drained of color.
"What are you two gonna do to me?!"