Somehow, the absent hours I spend in isolation in my room turn from one day to another until they’ve blurred together, and I’m not even sure how many have passed. Judge appears at random times in my doorway simply to tell me it’s time to call Solana. During these brief interactions, his face is guarded, his emotions completely shut down. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but when I follow him down to his office where he allows me to make the phone call, I feel his eyes on me. I’ve caught him staring at my belly a few times, jaw clenched, eyes somewhere distant. He doesn’t give voice to his thoughts, and I’m too much of a coward to ask what they might be.

There are still so many unknowns. How long does he plan to keep me locked up here? When will he let me talk to Santiago? What the hell are we even doing anymore?

I don’t know the answer to any of those things. But I know he’s not completely immune to me. After the first night I tended to his wounds, it became a silently agreed-on arrangement. With some reluctance on his part, I’ve continued the procedure every day after I make my phone call. Using some salve I had on hand from Solana’s shop, the lacerations have started to heal, and as horrible as it is to see his wounds, a part of me mourns the loss of this last connection between us. Because somehow, I know this is it. Judge doesn’t see me the way he once did. I can feel that between us. It’s the painful reality I never wanted to face, and now it’s impossible to escape.

As I bandage his wounds today, I know too much time has passed. I have to say something. I have to do something. Because I’m going fucking crazy with this ocean of silence between us.

“Are you letting me go to Elena’s baptism today?” That’s what comes out of my mouth.

The question hangs over the room, heavy and uncomfortable. Beneath my fingers, Judge straightens. He doesn’t want me to go, and I know it’s because Santi’s going to be there. He’s afraid I’ll tell him today, but I won’t. Not on a day of celebration. That will have to wait for another time.

“I’ll wait to talk to him,” I whisper. “I can arrange it for another day. I’m not expecting you to be there when I do. I know he’ll be pissed for a while, but I think it will be okay. He’ll have to see reason. He’ll give me my inheritance, and you can finally be free.”

“Stop.” Judge’s harsh command startles me as he shrugs me off and turns to glare at me. “Just fucking stop.”