TYSON
When we reached the penitentiary, I yanked open the back door of my car. Joe flinched but didn’t resist when I grabbed his arm and hauled him out. He moved stiffly, but he didn’t fight. He’d be stupid to.
Nikolai followed as I dragged Joe into the cement building. We passed rows of cells, the few prisoners inside watching silently. A guard stepped aside, his face impassive, as I pulled open the heavy metal door leading to the basement and forced Joe through.
The temperature dropped as we descended the narrow staircase. The dim, flickering lights cast jagged, erratic shadows along the damp cement walls, making them seem alive. The steps creaked beneath our weight. The harsh stench of fear mixed with the odor of bleach and stale air.
Once we made it to the bottom, I shoved Joe into
