The sun hadn’t risen yet. Darkness still cloaked the land like a blanket soaked in dread.
Back in the women’s prison, Mrs Smith sat quietly on her bunk, staring at the wall. Her thoughts weren’t still. Her heart beat faster than it had in years. Every second she sat there felt like a second closer to her son’s destruction or someone else’s.
Then she heard it.
Whispers.
Soft ones.
Two inmates, both sitting near the back of the recreation room, murmuring over cards, talking about an old escape route. One was a former tourist prisoner, a woman who’d been arrested during a sting operation overseas. She knew a lot. She had maps, memories, and grudges.
Mrs Smith turned to listen.
“You really think the old boiler tunnel’s still open?” one woman asked.
“Was two years ago. Couldn’t use it then ‘cause I didn’t wanna run. But I know where it is. Just need someone crazy enough to try it.”
Mrs Smith's hand clenched around the hem of her dress.
This was it. Her only chance.
That night, while the gu
