The atmosphere inside the holding facility had shifted into something far more dangerous than tension. It was no longer just heavy or uncomfortable; it carried a kind of instability that made every second feel unpredictable, as though the silence itself could shatter without warning and spiral into chaos.
Dorian sat with his hands restrained, his posture relaxed in a way that did not reflect the gravity of the situation. There was no visible fear in him, no sign of anxiety, only a quiet stillness that made the officers uneasy. Across from him, Jackson looked different. He was worn down, his usual confidence stripped away, yet there was something in his eyes that had changed. The fear that once controlled him had faded, replaced by a strange acceptance, as though he had already come to terms with whatever was coming next.
When the door opened and the officers stepped in, both men lifted their heads at the same time. No words had been spoken yet, but the message was already clear.
