Chapter 115. The Prison

We are in a place they call the mess hall when I see on the old, flickering TV that Alessandra has been shot. The mess hall is grim, a stark reminder of our confined existence here. The food is barely edible—just enough to sustain us but never to satisfy. 

As the news report flashes on the screen, my pulse quickens. A dark smirk tugs at my lips. This moment, so anticipated, is finally here. I can hardly believe it. My heart races with a mix of excitement and anticipation. I’ve been waiting for this, savoring the thought of Alessandra finally getting what she deserves. The cruel irony of seeing her on this low-quality TV, surrounded by the dreariness of prison life, almost seems fitting.

The newscaster’s voice drifts over the room, detailing the incident. My mind races with calculations and possibilities. Alessandra has been hit, but it’s not the fatal blow I hoped for. The news says she was struck in the shoulder. My satisfaction turns to frustration. How