The next morning I woke up alone in the safe house. My phone was buzzing on the nightstand, screen lit up with seventeen missed calls. But it wasn’t the calls that froze me, it was the text sitting right at the top.
Your father had an incident last night. He’s in the medical wing. Perhaps we should discuss your decision sooner rather than later. –C.B.
My stomach dropped so hard it felt like it might never come back up. My hands were shaking as I called Patterson. He picked up almost immediately.
“What happened to Dad?”
“He was attacked during dinner,” Patterson said, his voice tight. “Three inmates jumped him. No warning.” He was trying to sound calm, but I could hear the edge in his tone. “He’s got a broken rib, some bruising. The guards swear it wasn’t provoked.”
My chest clenched.
