CHAPTER EIGHT

Morning light streamed through the large windows, casting a soft glow over the room as I lay there, staring up at the ceiling. My body ached in ways I didn't want to think about, a feeling all too familiar now.

It's how my last few mornings began, with my mind replaying everything from the nights before—the weight of him on top of me, the way he commanded every part of my body and mind, and the control I felt slipping away with every passing second. He'd kissed me goodbye before he left, his hands lingering on my waist, his touch drawing me in as it always did.

He had said something about handling business from home soon, a slight variation in the routine I'd come to know, but my mind had still been groggy from sleep. When I woke up fully, he had already left, but even then, I still felt him. Alexander had a way of leaving his mark on me long after he was physically gone. His presence lingered, etched into my skin, my thoughts, and the bed we shared from sunup to sundown.

I sat up slowly, taking in the quietness of the room. The bouquet of fresh flowers on the bedside table caught my attention. The small domestic gesture was never missed. He hadn't once forgotten to have them replaced. It was almost… sweet. The soft fragrance of the blooms filled the space each morning, adding an unexpected softness. I moved to clean myself up—again. The last few nights I had consistently woken with him inside me.

It didn't matter if we'd fallen asleep side by side, he always found a way to enter me without waking me.

Sometimes he would finish without me ever rousing, a result of the sleep aide he assured me was for my benefit. On the nights I did come to, I would be worn out and fall back into a dreamless slumber after we showered. If he wasn't inside me while I was sleeping, then he'd make sure to fuck me any chance he could while I was awake. It was endless. I kept finding myself pinned down with his hand around my throat or fisting my hair while I was on my knees.

It left me feeling filthy in ways that even the hottest shower couldn't fix. It was taking a toll, both mentally and physically. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see the possessive hunger in his gaze, the way he consumed me, body and soul. The worst part was that I hated it almost as much as I had come to enjoy it.

The worst part was how much I wasn't trying to scrub away the sensation of him or the bruises he left on my skin, but the guilt festering inside me. Sanity had become a fragile thing, unraveling thread by thread in his hands. I was trapped in a never-ending cycle and every time I convinced myself I could pull away, he reeled me in further.

I stood under the shower, the hot water pounding against my skin. No matter how long I stayed under the scalding spray, I couldn't escape myself. I couldn't escape him . Alexander Alistair. Somehow, he had managed to slip past every barrier I'd built, sliding into the cracks I didn't even know existed. And now, he was there, firmly rooted, making sure I couldn't rid myself of him. It wasn't just the physical pull—it was the way he owned me, claimed me in ways I hadn't even realized until it was too late. He could be sweet, coaxing me with soft words and gentle touches, despite his darkness.

Somehow, he made me question things I didn't want to face. Alone like this, those questions grew louder, more insistent, gnawing at me. Was it all him? Or had I, at some point, given in willingly?

Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed a towel and dried off, the steam clinging to the air around me. I dressed quickly, opting for something simple—a loose shirt and pants, comfortable but still in line with what I was expected to wear, making sure I didn't forget to drape my key around my neck. The marks on my body—my back especially— were both mostly healed. Whatever salve that the Isle people made was a miracle in a tube.

The ones now most evident were in the shape of handprints that matched Alexander's perfectly. With my hair still damp, I made my way downstairs for breakfast. The house was quiet, but I could hear the distant sounds of staff moving about. They were always around, silently working in the background, watching me with reverence, waiting for me to need the smallest thing. I wondered how much they knew about my circumstances.

In the dining room, a light breakfast had been prepared—fresh fruit, toast, and a smoothie alongside my fertility pills. I took a sip, the cool, sweet taste calmed my frayed nerves. I ate in silence, the occasional murmurs of conversation from the staff drifting in and out of earshot. I didn't have class at the Chapel today and there was no service. With Alexander gone, I wasn't sure what to do with myself.

The idea of wandering aimlessly around the estate was always appealing, but I knew there was a more pressing issue that needed to be addressed. So, after finishing my breakfast, I headed to the library. I had been talking myself up to this for days, changing my mind when it came down to actually following through. I needed to know though, even if it meant spiraling further into the twisted reality that I was now a part of.

As I stepped into the large room, the familiar aesthetic greeted me—a sanctuary of dark wooden bookshelves towering over richly upholstered chairs, and the grand fireplace casting a soft glow in the corner. The faint crackle of the fire was a comforting sound, but it couldn't dispel the heaviness lingering in the air. On the side table sat the photo of Clarice and Melanie—beautiful, perfect, like everything on this Isle was supposed to be.

Their beauty was a lie, a delicate veneer masking the dark truths that festered beneath the surface. They had once occupied a place in Alexander's life, but now, this was all that was left of them. He'd ordered Ambrose to burn the boxes, claiming he wanted no other women in our home unless they were there to serve me. He truly had only kept them for my curiosity's sake, his twisted way of letting me in.

Their ghosts couldn't even haunt these halls. He'd never allowed them into the estate beyond those photographs.

It was unsettling, giving me an eerie feeling. Unlike them, I wasn't going to be another ghost banned from this estate. I had to be more than that. I made my way deeper into the library, passing rows of dark wooden shelves that seemed to stretch on endlessly, each one filled with volumes on history, theology, and the faith that governed this Isle. My fingers trailed over the spines of the books as I searched for any titles that might hold the answers I sought.

Bloodlines.

Lineage.

History of the Alistairs.

There had to be something like that on these shelves. Was it not the kind of book kept in a home library?

I didn't give up, still searching. The conversation I had with Alexander the night he bent me over his altar had all but confirmed it—that I wasn't just here by chance, that my bloodline was tied to this place and tied to him.

The reality of it weighed heavier on my mind the longer I tried to cling to denial. It was one thing to be trapped here and assimilate into a life I didn't choose. But to know that this place may have been home all along, that whatever it was that made the Isle seem sentient ran through my veins too? That made everything complicated.

After what felt like hours of fruitless searching, I finally stumbled upon a large tome with a shiny gold title: Isle Lineages: A History of Families and Power . My heart skipped a beat. This could be it. I carefully pulled the heavy book from the shelf and carried it over to one of the plush armchairs by the fireplace.

The moment I sat down, I flipped open the book, scanning through names and dates, trying to make sense of the genealogies laid out before me.

Alistair.

Graves.

Asmo.

Delacroix.

Erebus.

I paused, my eyes narrowing as I traced the line connecting the Erebus family. A chill ran down my spine. Erebus . That name—it was familiar. Too fucking familiar. It clicked. The Erebus men owned the resort where I worked before all this. The same resort where Anya used to gush about the beautiful, mysterious men who seemed untouchable as if they belonged to another world.

My stomach churned and I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening with the realization. They weren't just wealthy men running a business.

They were part of the same twisted web in which I was now entangled. Now I knew why they'd hosted that damn trade show. As I stared at the names, a new kind of fear began to creep in, tightening its grip around my chest. How deep did this rabbit hole go?

How many pieces had been moved and carefully manipulated, to keep me exactly where he wanted me? The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't shake the feeling that my entire life had been orchestrated, each step leading me closer to where I was then.

I vividly recalled the day Anya, and I first got the job at the resort. We'd been looking for something better, something that paid more and didn't involve greasy diner uniforms or handling raw chicken. Then, out of nowhere, the offer came. Shana approached us at a coffee shop, offering positions at the exclusive Erebus resort with the excuse two girls had just quit.

A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, she called it, and Anya had been ecstatic. She couldn't stop talking about the pay, the benefits, and, of course, the beautiful men who practically ran the place. I hadn't been as convinced, but Anya? She had a way of making everything sound like an adventure.

I compared it to the night she'd said that same script to get us inside the room where Alexander was. Now I wondered—had it really been a coincidence? Or was that the first move in a game I didn't even know I was playing? Had they been watching me, watching us, from the very beginning? The pages of the book blurred as my mind raced. How many times had I unknowingly followed a path that led me right into Alexander's hands?

There were a few other names mentioned in passing, but those four surnames specifically repeated over and over again.

The Alistairs, however, held the spotlight, dominating the pages like a dark sun around which all the others revolved. Their line stretched back for generations, centuries even, each one inheriting the twisted mantle of leadership within the Impío faith. They were a legacy bound not just to this Isle but across the United States, tendrils of influence weaving far beyond these shores.

It became clear why they were what they were now. They had built an empire on blood, sacrifice, and devotion to the dark power that ruled this place, and now stretched not only across the Isle but into unseen corners of the world.

A knock at the door startled me, pulling me from the pages of the book and my troubled thoughts. My focus drifted away from the tangled web of Isle history I had been trying to unravel.

"Mistress Lolita?" Ambrose's voice was calm, as always, but his presence still carried a certain weight. I was growing more comfortable with him, but this unexpected interruption made me tense. I glanced up from the book and watched him step into the room, always so composed, the picture of quiet authority.

"Yes?" I asked, setting the book down gently.

"You have a visitor," he announced with his usual serene tone. "Shall I send her away, or would you like to see her?"

"A visitor? Who is it?" I asked, my mind still half-clinging to the intricate bloodlines I had been sifting through.

"Esther," he replied smoothly. "She's waiting in the foyer."

I blinked, a little caught off guard. Esther? I hadn't seen her in what felt like ages, since before Nicolette was punished. "Why would I send her away?"

"Because this is your home, Mistress," Ambrose replied with a slight smile. "You do not have to see her or anyone else out of any obligation."

"Oh..." I trailed off, feeling the strangeness of the moment wash over me. "Right."

I closed the book in front of me, gathering myself. "I would like to see her," I said after a pause.

Ambrose nodded in return. "She's waiting in the foyer."

"Thank you," I said, standing up from the chair.

"Always my pleasure," he added, smiling faintly before leaving the room.

Once he was gone, I slipped the book back onto its shelf, its weight heavy in my hands, not just from its size but from the information within. I turned away from it and headed downstairs.

I wondered where Esther had been and what had kept her away. As soon as I reached the bottom of the stairs and saw her standing there, a smile spread across her face. Esther, with her striking resemblance to her brother, rushed toward me, her arms wide open. "Gosh, Lo, I am so sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye!" she exclaimed, pulling me into a hug before I even had time to react.

Caught off guard for the second time in a matter of minutes, I hesitated, but then wrapped my arms around her, returning the embrace. Despite everything, I found myself grateful for the genuine warmth in her touch, for the way she treated me like an old friend and not with the reverence everyone else did. And really, it was nice to see another person. Keres and Pandora were under the same restrictions as I was, which meant we only saw one another at the Chapel.

There was Verity, but she only spoke if I started a conversation with her first, our stations were too different to form any kind of friendship. That left Alexander as my main source of social interaction, and though he did eat with me every night, he was always gone during the day. So, yeah. It was nice to see Esther again.

"Where have you been?" I asked, my voice softer now as I pulled back, my curiosity overtaking any awkwardness.

Esther gave a casual shrug, her smile unwavering. "I had to go inland for family stuff."

I blinked at her, processing the words. "Inland? As in off the Isle?" I asked, a little incredulous. I hadn't thought women here ever left.

"Yes," she confirmed, still smiling, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

" You leave the Isle?" I asked again, trying to clarify. "I was under the impression that women here never got to leave."

Her brows rose in mild surprise. "How far have you gotten in your classes?" she asked, her tone playful yet curious.

I shifted, feeling a bit out of place. "I've only attended a few, I'm still learning," I admitted.

"Well," she said with a grin, "I'm going to jump ahead and tell you that depending on their station, some women do, in fact, leave the Isle."

I felt a pang of surprise ripple through me. I hadn't expected that answer. "I heard you attended the trade show," Esther added casually.

"That's one way to put it," I replied, my tone darkening slightly as memories of that night resurfaced—the drugging, the disorienting fog that followed, and now all this added information to go with it.

Sensing the shift in my mood, Esther didn't linger on the topic, easily carrying the conversation forward with her bright, bubbly tone. It was almost disarming how naturally cheerful she was. I'd forgotten that about her.

"Some of those women, not all, were from here," she continued. "But again, only certain ones, depending on their station or duties, are allowed to leave."

"So... what's the catch?"

Esther laughed, a sound that rang through the foyer like music. "No catch, really. It's just the way things are. Some of us have responsibilities that require us to leave. But don't worry," she winked, "you'll get the hang of it soon enough."

I couldn't help but smile at her infectious energy. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to all of this," I confessed quietly.

"You will," she reassured me, her smile softening. "You already have started to. I can tell. There's something different about you."

Different? A part of me bristled at the idea. I didn't want to change, to become like them. Another part of me, the part I was afraid to acknowledge, wondered if she was right. Had I already started to let go of the person I was before? I didn't like the thought, but deep down, I couldn't deny it. Things had shifted. I wasn't fighting as hard. Maybe it was the exhaustion of constantly resisting and getting nowhere, or maybe it was Alexander, and the way he wrapped himself around my world until I couldn't tell where he ended, and I began.

"And on the bright side, you've got me back, your best friend."

I hesitated, unsure how to respond. Best friend? The title felt too intimate considering the brief time I'd known her, but Esther's sincerity was undeniable.

Her eyes filled with warmth and affection. She genuinely meant it.

"Best friend?" I finally said, trying to keep my tone light, though there was an awkwardness in my voice I couldn't hide. "I didn't know we'd come that far."

Her smile didn't waver. She just laughed softly, waving away my hesitation. "Oh, come on, Lolita. Don't overthink it. I mean, who else do you have right now?"

The question lingered in the air, hitting harder than I expected. I swallowed, feeling the weight of my isolation creep in. She wasn't wrong.

"Keres and Pandora?" I said though it came out more like a question than a statement.

Esther puckered her lips and shook her head. "They don't get to be your best friends. I saw you first." She grinned, a playful glint in her eyes that was impossible to ignore.

For a moment, her light-heartedness was infectious. Then the memory of Anya crept in, dragging a wave of guilt with it. Here I was, living in luxury, sleeping in a bed that felt like a cloud, next to a man who was too gorgeous to be real, indulging in lavish meals, all while my best friend's whereabouts remained a mystery. I hadn't even tried to ask about her. I was too afraid to bring her up again after what had happened the last time.

I never forgot about her, though. Like now, every time I felt myself slipping deeper into Alexander's world, I couldn't help but wonder if Anya was suffering somewhere. It reminded me of a conversation we'd once had. " If you get on with a rich guy, bring me along for the ride," Anya had joked, flashing her usual mischievous grin.

I laughed then.

I wasn't laughing now.

Esther studied my face and then nodded, as if confirming something. "You need to get out of this big house for a few hours. I told my brother—not Diabolus —I was coming to get you. Keres and Pandora will meet up with us in town. How does that sound?"

The offer was too tempting to pass up. The idea of staying in the house alone, with nothing but my thoughts, felt suffocating. I nodded, managing a small smile. "Yes, I'd like that."

Esther's face lit up with excitement. "Perfect!" She clapped her hands, then called out for Ambrose.

He appeared like he always did, quick and silent like some kind of ghost. "Yes, Domina ?"

Domina?

"We're heading out for a bit," she announced, her tone carrying a note of eagerness.

He gave us both an amused look and then turned to me, his tone gentler than before. "You don't have to go, Mistress. If you'd rather stay you may."

He'd said something similar just moments ago, but I still wasn't used to the idea that I had any sort of autonomy here. "No, I want to," I said after a beat, smoothing my clothes.

"In that case, try not to get into too much trouble."

Esther laughed. "I make no promises!" She grabbed my arm, tugging me toward the door, and before I knew it, we were climbing into the same sleek car that had brought her to the estate. The driver tipped his hat to me in greeting, and soon, we were off, the estate fading into the distance.

The drive was quiet at first, the soft hum of the car filling the silence. I stared out of the window, watching the Isle's landscape pass by. It was beautiful, hauntingly so.

I turned to Esther. "Did you hear what happened to Nicolette?"

She nodded, her face softening. "I'm the one who reported her."

My stomach dropped. I wasn't sure how to react. I studied her, waiting for some kind of explanation.

Esther sighed, her cheerful demeanor slipping for just a moment. "I didn't want to, but she was leading you astray, Lolita. She was trying to put ideas in your head and sow discourse between you and my brother, that could hurt you. I had to report her, not because I wanted her punished but because I wanted to protect you."

I didn't know how to feel about that. I hadn't thought of it that way. Nicolette's words had never seemed dangerous to me. At most, she warned me….oh. That was it. Nicolette told me about Clarice and Melanie.

There had to be more to it than that though. Alexander wasn't exactly hiding their identities or what he'd done to Melaine.

Esther's words hinted at something deeper. Of course, she knew more than I did—she was Alexander's sister. For all her brightness, she was deeply ingrained in the shadows of this place, in the rules and the faith I was still being educated in. On the one hand, I understood her reasoning, but on the other, it felt wrong. No. It was wrong. Yet, in some perverse way, I could see her logic.

Part of me still wanted to challenge her, to argue that Nicolette hadn't deserved what had happened to her, but I knew that this was the way things worked here. Esther had only done what she thought was necessary. The rules of the Isle, as brutal as they were, had a certain order to them, and breaking them, as Nicolette had, seemed to lead only to suffering.

Esther gave me a small smile, her hand squeezing mine when I took too long to respond. "I didn't want that for you."

I swallowed and took a breath, glancing at the driver. "Do you know how she is at least?"

She brightened immediately. "Well, it hasn't been that long, but my father tells me she should make a full atonement."

"Your…father?"

"Yes." She nodded happily. "He isn't Diabolus anymore, but he still works closely with Alexander and his Magistri in running the Isle." She tilted her head and studied me, looking even more like her brother. "I heard you finally met him."

I nodded this time more cautiously. "Yes, a while ago now. He… found me after the service when everything happened to Nicolette. He didn't tell me his name, though."

Her expression softened, but there was something in her eyes I couldn't quite place. That confirmed for me that she knew more than she was letting on. But that was the way of everyone here, wasn't it? Layers of secrets wrapped in smiles.

"You'll get to know him better soon," she said, her voice carrying that same mix of reassurance, "And don't worry," she added with a smile that was meant to comfort me, "he's not as scary as he looks."

"I wasn't scared," I lied, forcing the words out before I could think better of it. The truth was, I was still shaken from the encounter. The eerie resemblance between her father and Alexander lingered in my mind.

Esther gave me a knowing look, one that said she saw right through me, but to my relief, she didn't press the issue. She didn't need to.

In the quiet that followed, I could feel the weight of the questions she wasn't asking, the unspoken things that lingered between us. There were many I wanted to voice, but I couldn't bring myself to mistake her kindness for loyalty or someone in whom I could openly confide. If it came down to it, she'd choose Alexander over me in an instant. The realization wasn't new, but it was a subtle reminder of where I stood and how precarious my position really was. Unless I fully accepted my life for what it was now, there were things we'd never be able to discuss. There will always be a boundary between us.

When we arrived at the town and stepped out of the car, Esther's bubbly energy seemed to return in full force. She looped her arm through mine as we walked down the cobblestone streets, her laughter light and infectious. It was easy to get swept up in, especially after that car ride. We made our way down a sidewalk and entered the same bakery I had visited before, its warm, inviting smell of fresh bread and pastries immediately wrapping around us. Inside, Keres and Pandora were already seated at a table.

Pandora wore her signature blindfold, a soft cream that matched her dress, while Keres was leaning back in her chair, her usual easy grin plastered across her face. Beside them were their servitors, Drita and Nanno, each quietly observing the room.

"Finally! Thought you two were ditching us," Drita joked, her accent thick. She greeted us with a playful wink to show it was all wholesome fun. Her long dreads were tied back in a tidy ponytail, and she was dressed in a way that showed she was of lower status, her dress a muted color much like Nanno.'

"Never," Esther laughed, her mock-serious expression doing little to hide the warmth in her eyes. "Besides, our Sponsa Diaboli needed a breath of fresh air."

I kept my face neutral at the shift in title. I wasn't surprised. Esther was always the first to ensure that, in the eyes of the Isle, I was addressed correctly. I felt the weight of the title more with each passing day, a reminder of what I was becoming.

Pandora, though her eyes were hidden behind the familiar blindfold, tilted her face toward me, offering a gentle smile. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm better now that I've had a moment to breathe," I replied, slipping into the seat beside her. "How about you?"

"That's good to hear," she said, her voice as soothing as ever while Nanno silently poured her a fresh cup of tea. "I've been taking things one day at a time."

For the next hour, we sat together in the bakery, the conversation flowing easily.

It was too normal, a stark contrast to the weight of the Isle's dark rituals looming over us. Yet, in that moment, it was comforting. The tourists passing by barely registered, their curious glances becoming little more than a distant hum in the background. We simply existed, suspended in this rare moment of calm.

Keres, Pandora, and I exchanged idle chatter, their servitors and Esther hovering nearby to join in, always attentive. As I sipped my iced Frappuccino, a tinge of curiosity gnawed at me. The way Pandora moved, her calm demeanor—there was something more beneath the surface. Her connection to the man in the deer mask—Phoenix—seemed too easy, too seamless. It made me wonder how she fit into this world.

Pandora.

Phoenix.

The names aligned in my head; their connection was obvious once I thought about it. Could they be…?

No that couldn't be the case. Pandora was brought here the same way Keres and I were. Then again, her past could be just as murky as mine. I shook the thought away, trying not to dwell on it. I wasn't going there. Keres caught my eye and gave me a look as if to ask, "Are you good?"

I gave her a smile as if to say, " Yeah," but k she knew better. She understood we couldn't speak openly where we were, if ever. That meant keeping all the heavy stuff to ourselves. Our other option was to confide in the men we belonged to. I wasn't sure what that looked like for her. Her presence was a puzzle I couldn't quite piece together, even less so than my own connection to the Isle. She didn't seem like the type to bend easily to anyone's will, and yet she was here, tied to this place just like the rest of us.

It made me question if anyone ever really escaped the Isle's grasp.

After our coffee, we moved from shop to shop, winding up lingering in a boutique. The air smelled faintly of lavender and leather; racks of clothes spaced out like art displays. Keres picked up a jacket, inspecting it with a raised brow.

Esther reminded me that whatever I wanted could be sent back to the estate with just a word. Keres couldn't resist making light of it.

"Look at you, living the high life. Rich and so humble about it."

I forced a smile, but the joke tugged at something deep inside me. Rich. The word felt foreign, almost laughable when I thought about how far I'd come from the life I once knew. I couldn't help but think of Anya. If our positions were switched, would she have thrived in this world?

She had always seemed adaptable, like she could fit in anywhere she wanted to. But the Isle was different. It wasn't fitting in—it was about survival. Could she have survived this? I wondered if she would embrace the wealth, the luxury, and the dark, twisted allure that came with it.

Maybe she would've found a way to charm her way into every room, spinning webs of her own. Or maybe she would've fought it harder than I ever had. I wasn't sure. But I knew one thing for certain—she wouldn't have been as trapped as I was.

That thought made the guilt twist in my gut even more.

Keres must've seen the shift in my expression because she leaned in slightly, her voice softer. "You know I'm always ready to be a sounding board, right? You can talk to me if you ever need to get something off your chest."

Before I could respond, Esther, who had been busy at the other end of the boutique, suddenly chimed in, her tone light but her ears clearly tuned in. "Same goes for me, Lo. You can talk to me about anything. My lips are sealed."

I forced a smile, my hands tightening slightly on the hem of the dress I'd been pretending to admire. I didn't believe her for a second. Esther was many things, but a confidante who wouldn't run straight to Alexander? That wasn't one of them.

"Thanks," I replied to them both, keeping my tone light.

Keres gave me a look, something that told me she understood more than she let on, before shrugging playfully and turning her attention back to the racks of clothes. Pandora stood beside a display of jewelry, her fingers lightly grazing a few pieces as Nanno described the colors to her.

I couldn't help but notice how peaceful she seemed as if she'd been living like this her whole life—navigating without sight, but never appearing lost. As we stepped out of a shop and onto the sidewalk, a woman suddenly rushed out of a nearby storefront and headed right toward us, her face flustered. She quickly composed herself, aware of the tourists, but it was clear something was wrong.

"You need to get to the Delacroix residence," she said urgently, her voice low. "They need the closest hands."

Esther stepped forward, a frown forming on her face. "What's happened?"

"The babe," the woman replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

The name Delacroix clicked in my mind. That was the couple from the Chapel—the beautiful pregnant woman who had kept her gaze down the entire time, and her husband, Jamison.

"Of course, we'll go," I found myself saying naturally, the words slipping out before I could even process them.

The woman glanced at me, did a quick double-take, and then immediately bowed her head. "Sponsa Diaboli, thank you."

"You should get back inside," I replied, noticing the growing interest from the tourists lingering around us.

She nodded quickly. "Of course," she said before retreating into her shop, disappearing from view.

As casually as possible, we began following Esther's directions, weaving our way through the streets toward where we needed to meet the driver. He was always on standby for moments like this, ready to whisk us away at a moment's notice.

"You handled that well," Keres remarked.

I blinked, not really understanding what I had done to deserve the compliment. "I didn't do anything."

"No," Esther said with a small smile. "You did right."

I shifted uncomfortably, wanting to change the subject. "What do you think is wrong with Cassandra's baby?"

Drita, Keres' servitor, answered. "She chose a home birth," she said, her tone carrying a hint of disapproval as if that explained everything.

I frowned but didn't press further. Homebirths weren't uncommon where I was from, but there was clearly more to it here on the Isle. We continued in silence until we found the black SUV waiting for us. We all squeezed inside, the tension thickening the closer we got to our destination. The town faded behind us as the SUV carried us away, the streets becoming more secluded, the homes increasingly grand. It wasn't long before we reached a gated neighborhood, the kind of place that screamed privilege and security.

The brick brownstones and manicured lawns marked the area as what would easily be considered above middle-class. Gated security at every turn ensured that the inhabitants were safely tucked away from prying eyes.

As we drove through the gate, Nanno, Pandora's servitor, turned to the three of us and said, "You will want to brace yourselves."

Pandora furrowed her brow. "Brace for what?"

But Nanno didn't answer, her expression giving nothing away. The tension in the car thickened as we pulled into the driveway of a large, imposing brownstone. The second we came to a stop, a piercing scream shattered the stillness, cutting through the air like a knife.

My stomach twisted violently, the sound triggering an immediate reaction of nausea and dread, but I followed Esther out of the vehicle, my legs feeling wobbly beneath me.

We hurried toward the front door and were ushered inside without hesitation. The screams grew louder as we made our way up a winding staircase, each step making my heart pound faster. By the time we reached the top, my body felt frozen, my hands trembling at my sides. The noise was deafening now, Cassandra's wails of agony reverberating through the halls. Without a word, Esther opened the door.