gates.
He onlycared about the small girl waiting in a protected room, holding a blue star charm so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
When Gavin walked in, Chloe stood slowly.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
She had known him as a face behind glass, a voice on prison phones, a man adults told her to fear and love at the same time.
He knelt first.
Not because he was weak.
Because he did not want his daughter to have to look up at him anymore.
“Chloe,” he whispered.
Her lower lip trembled.
“Are you still going to die?”
Gavin broke.
He opened his arms, and she ran into them so hard the guards at the door turned away.
“No,” he said into her hair. “No, baby. Not today. Not because of them. Not anymore.”
Behind the glass, Mitchell stood still.
He had overseen executions. He had watched men spend
