( this is a continuation of the previous chapter told from Ethan's pov)
Kuro had always been lean.
Now he looked hollow.
The grey prison uniform hung loosely from his shoulders, as though he'd lost enough weight over the past month that even the prison had not caught up with it. His hair had grown longer than I'd ever seen it, falling unevenly across his forehead, and dark stubble shadowed his jaw in a way that spoke less of choice than neglect. The skin beneath his eyes had sunk noticeably, leaving bruised crescents that made him look years older than the man I'd worked beside only a month ago.
His wrists were secured in steel cuffs connected by a short chain to another wrapped around his waist.
The officers guided him to the chair opposite mine.
One unlocked the cuffs with a practiced click.
The metal fell away.
Kuro rubbed his wrists almost immediately.
It wasn't a deliberate gesture.
It looked instinctive, like scratching an itch.
