The sterile, bleach-scrubbed corridors of the district detention center were designed to strip away human dignity, but they appeared to have zero effect on Enzo.
He was resting quietly on the narrow mattress of his iron bunk bed, staring up at the flaking ceiling paint with an expression of mild contemplation, when the heavy steel viewport slid open with a metallic rasp. An officer cleared his throat, tapping his knuckles against the reinforced door.
"Visitor for you," the guard announced, his tone lacking its usual gruff authority. "Jillyanna is here."
