Chapter 132: Blood in the Same Walls
Jackson learned quickly that prison had a sound.
It was not screaming or metal slamming shut like people imagined. It was way, way quieter than that.
He felt it the moment the door closed behind him.
The guards pushed him forward without ceremony. No one cared who he used to be or whose name he was given. Inside these walls, history meant nothing unless it could be used against you.
His cell door opened again.
And then Jackson turned into an ice cube.
His father sat on the narrow cot with his elbows on his knees, gray hair seemed to be hanging loose, face was more wrinkled than Jackson remembered.
Prison had not softened the man. It had sharpened him like a blade left too long in fire.
The guard smirked and shut the door.
His father looked up slowly and let out a dry laugh. "So. They finally put you where you belong."
Jackson swallowed. "I did not know they would put us together."
