The only good part about it was that Damian had a cell to himself. At least he didn't have to share it with the murderers and thieves rotting in the other cages down there.
They shoved him inside and slammed the iron door shut. The officer on duty was someone Damian recognized—one of the guards who used to chat with him whenever he visited Lindy's research room.
As he locked the door, the officer leaned closer and whispered, "I know you didn't do anything. I'll try to help you out with Lindy, okay?"
Damian exhaled and nodded. "Thank you. Don't feel bad—you're just following orders."
Then the footsteps retreated, and silence swallowed the place whole.
The cell was cold, damp, and stinking of rust and mildew. Water dripped from somewhere unseen. He wasn't alone, though. Damian could sense the others—criminals locked in the surrounding cells, watching him from the darkness.
