Lucas Dillon's smirk made my blood boil as he drove me toward what I now realized wasn't a standard detention facility. The rage inside me threatened to explode, but I forced myself to breathe deeply.
"Think of Isabelle," I whispered to myself, her face materializing in my mind—the only anchor keeping me from unleashing my fury on this corrupt officer.
"What was that, Knight?" Lucas taunted, eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. "Praying already? You'll need more than prayers where you're going."
I remained silent, watching unfamiliar scenery pass by. The buildings grew sparse, replaced by dense forests and rocky terrain. After nearly two hours of driving, we approached a forbidding compound surrounded by high walls topped with razor wire.
A weathered sign read: "Martial Arts Association Prisoner Penitentiary – Shiglance City Branch."
My stomach dropped. This wasn't a regular detention center—it was one of those notorious black sites where people disappeared.
