Predondo had always been a man of few words, but his eyes told a different story. They held a deep sadness, a sense of loss that seemed to weigh him down. As a prisoner in the notorious Cellblock C, he'd seen things that would haunt anyone's dreams.
When the darkness receded, I was lying on the cold floor, my head throbbing. The team was gone, but I wasn't alone. Inmate 3456 was standing over me, his eyes now a faint glimmer of their former self. Predondo had always been a man of few
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