Chapter 9 The Viper Sheds Her Skin

• (POV: Rena Montoya)
• The click of the corridor door closing behind Isabela was like a starting pistol firing in the quiet room. The sympathetic tilt of my head straightened. The soft, concerned curve of my lips flattened into a thin, hard line. The meticulously crafted mask of empathy dissolved, evaporating like mist in harsh sunlight, leaving behind the cold, sharp clarity of my true thoughts.
• I leaned back against the velvet cushions, the fabric suddenly feeling less luxurious and more like the trap it was – for both of us, though Isabela hadn’t grasped that yet. Poor, naive Isa. Still believing in whispered appeals to affection, still dreaming of escape hatches in a fortress built of blood and necessity. Her tears, so genuine, so predictable, had almost been… distasteful. Like watching a wounded fawn bleating uselessly as the wolves closed in.