Prison was a shitshow.

The stones were out of his reach. He’d been isolated from the rest of the prisoners. He’d been shoved in a cell, cuffed and dressed as the rest of the prisoners. Devereaux had been forced into a chair, his hands tied to the table before him, hidden behind one-way windows.

God, did he hate Lara Croft.

But then again, she had saved him.

Even when his interrogation began, his mind was elsewhere, thinking back to what he’d done. Was he grateful for Lara’s intervention? Sure. Did he absolutely despise her for it? Fuck yeah. Was he hating more and more of every passing moment spent în this place? Absolutely.

“Kill me now.” He sarcastically muttered under his breath.