hours earlier.
He didn’t say a word. He couldn’t.
When the room cleared, Captain Miller looked at me. “Your cell has been cleared, Mercer. Contraband charges are expunged from your record. Your release date stands.”
”Thank you, Captain.”
”Don’t thank me,” Miller said, nodding toward the hall. “Go check on your roommate.”
I walked back down the long corridor toward B-block. The iron gates slid open with their heavy mechanical groan, but this time the noise didn’t feel like a cage closing. It felt like an open road.
When I stepped onto the tier, two hundred men watched from their cells. There was no whistling, no banging on the bars, no celebratory shouting. Just a deep, collective silence—the quiet respect men give to someone who tore down a tyrant without raising a fist.
Walt stood near the shower entrance. As I passed, he nodded once.
”Good to see you on
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