They dragged him past my desk like a bad habit I was finally getting rid of, arms bent behind his back, suit jacket flapping, face a storm of humiliation and rage. The guards moved with efficient, practiced brutality; they didn’t hurry, because they knew the spectacle was part of the punishment. I watched, hands folded over my lap, the faintest smile tugging at one corner of my mouth as Ezekiel’s shoes scuffed the marble and his voice ricocheted uselessly off the glass ...