Marshall’s POV

The first thing I noticed was the quiet.

No shouting. No banging doors. No guards yelling for count. Just silence is heavy, warm, and strange. For the first time in what felt like forever, I woke up without tension sitting in my chest. The air smelled faintly of soap and metal, the usual prison scent, but somehow, it didn’t bother me today.

Francesco was still asleep beside me, his back against the wall, his face turned toward me. The bruise on his cheek had darkened overnight, purple fading into yellow around the edges. There was a soft crease between his brows, like he was frowning even in sleep....