The gray walls of Stillwater Prison loomed ahead, an oppressive fortress carved into the rocky cliffs overlooking the dark waters. The air was damp with the scent of salt and stone, and the faint cries of seagulls were swallowed by the wind. Caitlyn adjusted her rifle strap, her sharp eyes darting to Vi, whose determined stride suggested she was entirely in her element.

“Are you sure about this?” Caitlyn asked, her voice low but edged with doubt.

“Positive,” Vi replied, without breaking her pace. “This guy knows Silco’s operation better than anyone. If we want a chance at stopping him, this is where we start.”

Ahead, the warden, a burly man with a bald head and an air of calculated authority, unlocked the heavy iron gates. His keyring clinked with each step as he led them inside the cold, narrow corridors. “You’ve got ten minutes,” he barked without looking back. “After that, you’re out—whether they cooperate or not.”

The walls closed in as they descended deeper, the dim lighting casting long shadows on Caitlyn’s pale face. She straightened her uniform coat, trying to maintain her composure. The clanging of cell doors echoed like a metronome of unease.

Vi seemed unfazed, her hands casually in her pockets, though Caitlyn caught the tension in her jaw.

“This one doesn’t exactly play nice,” the warden muttered, coming to a stop in front of a reinforced cell. The thick bars were layered with rune-etched restraints, glowing faintly blue, a clear deterrent for even the most ambitious escape artists.

Caitlyn peered inside, her breath hitching as she took in the prisoner.