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Her answer made the reason for the kiss clear.

It hadn’t been about wanting me. She’d heard me promise that my people would come, but freedom had been impossible for so long that she couldn’t believe the possibility of it. She’d needed proof that I was more than a voice in the dark.

I wanted to ask where she’d heard the interrogation and how long she’d been waiting for a chance to escape. But pressing her now might get her caught, and I needed her to come back.

Boots struck the corridor floor, closer this time.

“Go, Mouse.”

She didn’t move.

The footsteps were just outside the door.

“Now.”

Her hand slipped from my face. Water shifted inside the bottle as she hurried behind me, followed by a muted scrape from the hidden entrance. Then she was gone.

The clean trace of her scent was all that remained.

The main lock turned.

I dropped my head before the door in front of me opened.

A guard entered, muttering under his breath in Spanish. His boots circled the chair. Metal clicked as he tested one wrist cuff, then the other. He kicked the chair leg hard enough to jar my ribs before walking away.

The door slammed shut.

Only then did I let myself inhale a deep breath and think about what had just happened.

Ciro didn’t control every entrance into his dungeon.

Mouse knew a hidden way through the walls and understood the guards’ timing. She was frightened of being discovered but brave enough to come anyway. She wanted out, and she’d decided I might be worth the risk.

The tracker might bring Nik close to my location.

But I’d need Mouse’s help from inside.

A smile tugged at my split lip.

Ciro still held every obvious advantage.

But he had no idea that there was a little mouse slipping through his walls.

Chapter ten

Iclimbed out through the back of the wardrobe, pulled the false panel into place, and shoved the hanging clothes over it.

The clock on my nightstand read 6:58, giving me a near heart attack.

I tucked the half-empty water bottle into a narrow space behind the wardrobe, closed the doors, and hurried to the vanity. My hands shook as I dragged a brush through my hair. I’d barely tied it back when the key turned in the lock.

Marta Mejía opened the door.

For one horrible second, I imagined her arriving two minutes earlier and finding the room empty.

“Good morning, Miss Isabella.”

“Good morning.”