Chapter 8 A Serpent's Sympathy

• (POV: Isabela Montoya)
• The echo of Quino's retreating footsteps faded, leaving me suspended in the heavy, opulent silence of the corridor. Alone. Utterly, devastatingly alone. Papa’s cold dismissal, Quino’s calculated abandonment – the reality of my situation pressed in on me, suffocating as the stale, overly perfumed air of the estate. They wouldn't help me. They wouldn’t risk Papa’s wrath or challenge the grim calculus of survival that dictated my sacrifice.
• My carefully constructed walls crumbled. That brave front just crumbled, and raw despair flooded me. I sagged back against the cool marble wall, the coolness a stark contrast to the sudden heat burning behind my eyes. I squeezed them shut, refusing to let the tears fall – especially not here, not where guards might witness it. Mateo Castillo. The name was a phantom touch, cold and menacing, promising a future devoid of light, devoid of choice. My carefully hidden brochures, my pathetic paper wings, seemed like relics from a forgotten dream. Escape… it had felt like a distant fantasy before. Now, it felt like the only possible path to survival, however fraught with peril.