The guards' shouts echoed through the cell block, announcing the morning inspection. Ethan awoke, having slept like a rock; the cumulative adrenaline and fatigue had finally given way. He had fully expected to be dragged out screaming for what he had done to Warden Hayes, but the silence and routine suggested otherwise. It seemed, for now, he was untouchable.
He followed the routine, heading first to the mess hall.
The breakfast line still served the standard federal gruel, but the atmosphere was dramatically different. The guards serving the trays kept their eyes down, and the inmates no longer jostled or cursed. The greasy scramble and watery coffee were delivered promptly to Ethan's tray. He took his seat confidently; the food, while still prison fare, had been improved by José's new authority—the bread wasn't stale, and the eggs seemed genuinely cooked. He ate deliberately, ignoring the countless pairs of eyes tracking his every bite.
