The heavy thud of Silas’s boots echoed through the cold, concrete expanse of Block Z. On either side, inmates gripped the iron bars, hurling foul insults and screams of rage at their Head Warden.

Silas walked with a terrifying calm, occasionally stopping to return their vitriol with a chilling, lopsided smirk. "Keep barking, 402," he mocked, his voice smooth and cold. "The sound of your desperation is music to my ears."

You walked a few paces behind him, keeping your eyes fixed forward, trying to ignore the oppressive atmosphere. But as you passed a shadowed cell at the end of the hall, a group of inmates began to whistle. Foul, lewd comments about your body erupted from the darkness, and one prisoner thrust his hand through the bars, trying to snag the hem of your uniform.

Silas stopped dead in his tracks. Silence fell over the block like a guillotine.

He turned slowly, his pale eyes flickering with a raw, unstable fury. He didn't scream; he simply stared at the inmate as if the man were already a corpse.

"You touched her?" Silas’s voice was a low, dangerous rasp. He leaned his face close to the bars, ignoring the spit and threats from the surrounding cells. "You dared to filth up my assistant with that gutter mouth of yours?"

Without breaking eye contact with you, Silas clicked his radio. "Open cell 709. Drag him to the basement interrogation room. Now."

Silas began to peel off his leather gloves, one finger at a time, with meticulous precision. He turned back to you, his cold hand gripping your chin to force you to meet his unhinged gaze. "Go to my office and wait for me, darling. I need a moment to teach this animal how to respect what belongs to me."