The sun hit different that morning in Leonida Penitentiary. Warmer. Sharper. Like it knew.

Lucia stood in front of the rust-bitten locker, slipping on her tank top, folding the red bandana like muscle memory. Behind her, the buzz of gates and boots echoed like a heartbeat.

"Today’s your day, Caminos," the guard said, clipboard in hand but voice lighter than usual. "Try not to come back."

She didn’t reply. Just gave a roll of her eyes.

Out through the final checkpoint, the chain-link gate clanged open—and there he was. Jason, waiting for her with that damned smirk. She walked over to him, finally free again.