Karryn’s passives weren't a weakness to be exploited.
The air in Karryn’s cell was thick with the scent of rust, stale sweat, and the faint, sickly sweetness of the narcotic moss that grew in the lower ducts. For most inmates, that smell was the first note of their requiem. For Karryn, it was just the morning air.
She reached Warden Cross's office. The door was a heavy oak slab with a biometric lock. She didn't have a keycard. She didn't need one. karryn prison passives
Karryn moved.
Most minds would shatter. They'd scream until their throats bled. They'd claw at the seamless walls. They'd beg. Karryn’s passives weren't a weakness to be exploited
"You're a monster," he breathed.
"What happened?" he asked.
The day came.