Daniel pressed himself to the wall, breath shallow. He had never seen desperation so raw, so wild. The man muttered curses, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. But the orange jumpsuit beneath his filthy jacket told the story his silence wouldn’t. He wasn’t just anyone. He was an inmate.
“Where’s this tunnel lead?” the officer demanded, dragging him upright. The prisoner spat at the ground, but the glance he threw down the tunnel gave it away. The direction wasn’t toward town. It was back toward stone walls and razor wire. The tunnel wasn’t random—it was an escape route.