The alert flashes again at the top of my screen. A pulsing red line. A sound that is too sharp. Too final. My eyes drag over the text once, then again, then a third time, as if repetition will make it false.
Status change: Inmate Adrian Thornton.
New classification: Escaped custody.
Incident notes: Officer fatality confirmed. One guard critical. Transfer compromised.
My throat closes.
For a moment the office is silent. The city lights blink beyond the windows, oblivious. The rain has stopped, but streaks remain on the glass like claw marks.
I feel something cold drop through my stomach.
No. Not possible. Not again.
The building’s internal alert system begins its slow bloom of chaos. Desks outside my office light up with emergency banners on every computer. People stand abruptly. So
