I close my fingers over her chin and make her look. Her eyes are narrowed to slits when they meet mine. She won’t be easy to bend. But I don’t want her to be. I tilt her face up and brush the hair from her cheek. The gash is already closed up, the blood dried, and a bruise is taking shape. I’m surprised this is all she walked away with considering. Mercedes De La Rosa murdered a woman. She should have to stand before The Tribunal to answer for it. Any other member of The Society would. But Santiago will take care of that. And I will help him protect her.

I have a feeling, though, that her own guilt and the thought of losing her brother’s love are more punishment than anything The Tribunal could dish out.

I clean the dried blood off her cheek and smear antibiotic ointment onto the cut, careful to be gentle. I feel her eyes on my face, and I take my time doing it. Once I’m finished, I set the ointment aside and pour a glass of water out of the crystal pitcher on the nightstand. I take the pill Miriam left on the small dish and hold both out to Mercedes.

She looks at the pill.

“To help you get a good night’s rest.”

“I’m fine,” she says, turning her head away.

“It will help, Mercedes.”

She looks again at the pill in my palm. She wants it. She wants the oblivion it will bring. And this once, I’ll allow it. She reaches a tentative hand to pluck the pill from me and places it on her tongue, then takes the glass, sipping from it before handing it back.

I set it on the nightstand and get to my feet.

She lies down and turns away from me. Long dark hair spills over the white pillow, the duvet she is clutching tucked up to her chin, leaving most of her back exposed. I reach for the blanket to cover her fully, but something catches my eye. A mark. Something I’ve never seen because her back has never been fully bared to me. It’s a scar. Many years old from the look of it. I glimpse the edge of another, deeper one, lower. It’s hidden by the blanket.

I know what leaves this particular mark. I’ve seen it before.