Josefina quickly shook her head. "Let's just turn off the lights and get some sleep."
Oliver chuckled softly and flipped the switch. The room was enveloped in darkness, a cozy cocoon where you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. He pulled Josefina close, wrapping her in his arms.
"Don't worry," he murmured, "I just want to hold you while we sleep."
Josefina relaxed, feeling the warmth of Oliver's embrace, and soon drifted off.
...
As the night stretched on, Shay lay alone in a dingy holding cell. Just a few days in there had taken their toll—her cheeks were hollow, her eyes shadowed with sleepless nights, making her seem older than her years.
Suddenly, a crumpled piece of paper was tossed into her cell, landing right at her feet.
A flicker of hope sparked in Shay's tired eyes. Was this her chance? Could she finally escape this wretched place and start over?
With trembling fingers, she unraveled the paper. But as she read the single word scrawled across it, her heart sank into despair.
"Die."
Shay slumped against the cold wall, the word echoing in her mind. She didn't want to die. She wanted to live, to fight, to escape.
The paper seemed to dissolve in her hands, evaporating like mist, leaving Shay feeling as if her life was slipping away just as rapidly.
...
The next day, Shay was found lifeless in her cell.
She had used strips of her clothing to end her own life. No one knew how she had crossed that final emotional barrier.
Oliver heard the news while he was downstairs, sipping his morning coffee and leafing through a financial magazine.
"What's going on with Dominic?" he asked.
Harry replied, "Dominic's not doing well. His leg's shot, and he’s developed a rash from the damp conditions. They’ve had to take him to the hospital."
"Keep a close eye on him. Make sure they don't use the hospital as a cover to spring him."
"Don't worry, Mr. Oliver. We've got our people on it around the clock. Inside and out, everything's secure."
Oliver nodded, satisfied. "Alright, go on with your tasks."


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