GELLER'S POV
The underground prison facility was cold and unforgiving, the air thick with dampness and the lingering scent of blood and sweat. Dim lights buzzed overhead, barely illuminating the cracked stone walls and steel-barred cells lining the corridor. The only sounds were the clanking of keys and the echo of boots against the concrete floor as I made my way through, flanked by two guards.
Each cell we passed through held its own tragedy—rogues, traitors, criminals. Their stories lingered in the damp air, thick with despair. Some prisoners lifted their heads as I walked by, their hollow eyes flickering with resentment or fear. Others remained motionless, broken beyond repair. None of them mattered. Not today.
At the end of the corridor, we reached the most heavily secured cell. Th
