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Summary
Transporting them had gone surprisingly well. While waiting for an official sentence, they were to be held in a high-security facility, similar to the BSHCI, but more remote, so that if they were to, somehow, escape again, it would be a long trek on foot before they approached anything usable, and the cavalry would overtake them before they could.
Jack supposes the reason they're playing along and being relatively docile is Will. He is, in Jack's opinion, the more dangerous one. He's the one that's more difficult to predict, that doesn't play by the rules and would just as soon break a man's neck as bare his own and beg for mercy. But Will isn't in great shape right now; his eyes are hazy and ringed with gold, sweat dampening his hair and making it cling to his forehead. His shirt is soaked under his arms and across his collar with preheat sweat, his cheeks flushed with fever.
And Hannibal, red-eyed and overcome with the instinct to take care of his mate, is perfectly content to remain cuffed and calm at Will's side, providing no rival Alpha gets too close, and Will keeps his whimpers of distress to himself.