I remember those days. How Mercedes asked what I’d do to Ivy. How she wanted to know every detail. Guilt, I realize now. That was guilt. But it was pride that never allowed her to come clean. To save Ivy from a fate she did not deserve.

And Mercedes will be punished for that.

“But you will go there if you earn it.” She looks up at me again, small fists between us. I grin. “And I have a feeling you will earn it, little monster.”

That does it. That burns the fire hot in her eyes. Good. Her light should not go out. Ever. And this is the work I’m tasked with. This is why Santiago entrusted his sister to me. Get her under control. Tame her. Teach her to bend but do not break her.

Mercedes shoves me as hard as she can, and when I give her an inch, she runs for it, lunging for the door.

I catch her easily, an arm around her middle lifting her off her feet. But it’s a mistake because she spins, enraged, and drives her nails into my face, that wounded animal cornered and desperate, fighting for her freedom, her pride, her life.

I throw her onto the bed, then watch her bounce once and turn to scramble across it. Capturing her ankle, I tug her flat on her stomach, then set my knee on her lower back. I pin her down as I take her wrists, clutching them in one of my hands.

“Let me go! This is a mistake. Santi wouldn’t do this to me! He wouldn’t abandon me like this!”

“He didn’t abandon you,” I say, my tone calm. I reach for the black duffel I’d brought with me.

Mercedes struggles, but she must know it’s pointless. Her strength is no match for mine. She turns her head to watch as I unzip the bag and take out the length of rope.

I straighten, the scratches on my face stinging. “This is the opposite of him abandoning you,” I tell her as she begins her struggle anew at the sight of the rope.

“What are you doing?” she screams as I flip her onto her back and bind her wrists, then haul her to her feet. “You can’t do this to me!”

I look her over. Her hair is wild, the waistband of the too-big sweats askew from her struggle revealing an expanse of toned olive skin. I bend to take one more thing out of the duffel and hold it up for her to see.

She looks at the strip of black silk.

“Turn around, Mercedes.”

She shifts her gaze from it to me. “Why?”

“Blindfold. I don’t think you want me to walk you out through the courtyard.”

She swallows.

“There’s a secret passage, but you need to be blindfolded.”