Chapter 3
Her eyes dropped for half a second.
A medical tray had been left near the wall after a medic cleaned the cut above her eyebrow.
Bandages.
A cracked plastic bottle.
A bent clamp.
And beside it, a thin piece of broken metal that had snapped off the tray’s handle.
Small.
Sharp.
Forgotten.
Her eyes lifted toward the camera in the corner.
It had been mounted too high and angled badly.
There was a shadowed patch beside the door where the lens could not see.
A blind spot.
Hassan never noticed her notice it.
Alexis looked back at him.
“And you don’t watch enough.”
For the first time, one of the guards shifted uneasily.
Hassan laughed, but it came out too loud.
“You think you are clever?”
“No,” Alexis said. “I think you’re careless.”
Hassan stepped inside the cell.
The guard moved aside.
“You are in my prison,” Hassan said quietly. “Your men left you. Your country does not know where you are. By tomorrow, the world will see you kneel.”
Alexis stared at him.
She was tired.
So tired her bones felt full of sand.
But she had heard men like him before.
Men who thought cruelty was power.
Men who believed a uniform made them giants.
May you like
Men who forgot that fear could change direction.
Read Part 4 to see the first sign that Hassan’s prison was already falling apart.
