A loud splintering of wood wakes me from a light sleep. I jump out of bed and move to a dark corner of the cell, wanting to hide from whoever is busting down the door. It could be someone coming to save me, or it might be someone coming to kill me. After thinking about what Alfonso said over and over, I don’t want to take the risk of the latter being true.

I grab a broken leg from the stool and hold it in front of me. Not that it would protect me if someone shot at me, but it still ...