Moss’ pov;
I sat on the narrow metal bench, elbows on my knees, staring at the gray floor like it had answers written in it.
Answers as to the reason why I had been in a holding cell for almost a week. My pleas and screams of ‘this is a violation of my human rights’
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘I need my lawyer!’
And several other pleas and questions as to why I had been held had all gone to deaf ears.
I had lost hope and stopped asking, but right now, I found myself thinking about my daughter and Cuco. He was just a kid who had been introduced to the client world and what he was going through was just too cruel. I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on with him, hoping that he was fine.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, snapping me out of my string of thoughts.
The fluorescent
