Cherie kept her eyes on the corridor floor as they walked.
The lights overhead buzzed with a tired, inconsistent rhythm, flickering just enough to make every shadow feel like it was moving when it wasn't. Her wrists were still sore from the zip-ties they'd used earlier, and even though they'd been loosened slightly for the walk, the plastic still bit into her skin every time she shifted her hands.
Beside her, Saul moved quietly.
He had one arm restrained, the other hanging stiff at his side. His face was still swollen around the eye socket, and dried blood tracked from his nose down to his upper lip. He didn't look at the guards. Didn't look at the walls. Just kept pace like he was trying to convince his body that forward was the only direction that mattered.
Cherie swallowed.
The silence between them wasn't empty. It was crowded. With everything that had happened. Everything that had been said. Everything that had not been said.
