The lock clicks and the door opens.
The housekeeper from earlier stands in the hallway with a kind expression on her weathered face.
She looks at me with gentle eyes that remind me of my grandmother.
"Did you enjoy your dinner?" she asks quietly, glancing at Sofia sleeping in the bed.
Her voice carries a maternal warmth that feels out of place in this situation.
"It was fine," I say. I cross my arms over my chest indignantly, feeling a bit ashamed of myself for not liking this woman already. "Thank you."
"Is there anything else you need? Extra blankets? Something for the child?"
"We need to go home."
Her expression shifts to something that looks like pity.
She glances over her shoulder at the guard standing behind her, then back at me.
"I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I can't do that."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both." She hesitates. "But I can bring you anything else you might need to be comfortable while you're here."
"I don't want to be comfortable. I want to leave."
She nods slowly, as if she expected this answer.
"I understand. But that decision isn't mine to make."
"Then whose decision is it?"
"You know whose decision it is."
There's sympathy in her eyes as I glare at her, but also resignation.
She's worked for Dante long enough to know that arguing with him is pointless.
"If you need anything," she says again, "just knock on the door. Someone will hear you."
She steps back and closes the door.
The lock clicks into place, and I stand there for a long moment, staring at the wood and feeling the walls close in around me.
I want to rage and scream and pound on this door, but Sofia sleeps so soundly, I'd feel bad waking her.
I return to the bed and lie down beside her, wrapping my arm around her small body and pulling her close.
She shifts in her sleep and curls into me with utmost trust that breaks my heart.
I can't keep her safe here, and I can't trust the man in charge to do it either.
I close my eyes and try to think of a way out.
There has to be something I can do.
Some weakness I can exploit.
