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The woman behind me moved as though discovery would get her killed.

Water shifted inside a bottle, and plastic crackled softly in her grip.

She reminded me of a church mouse—quiet enough to live inside the walls and frightened enough to bolt if I gave her a reason.

Fear didn’t make her weak though. She’d entered Ciro Delgado’s dungeon carrying water after he’d ordered that I get none.

I kept my head bowed and slowed my breathing. The first move mattered. If I turned too fast or spoke too soon, she’d disappear through whatever hidden door she’d used.

For several seconds, neither of us moved. Her shallow breathing remained behind me while the silence stretched, as though she were studying the blindfolded man chained to the chair and deciding whether coming closer was worth the risk.

One careful step slid across the floor. Then another. She moved around the chair and stopped several feet to my right.

I needed to keep from frightening her away long enough to discover why she’d come.

I waited another beat.

“I know you’re there,” I whispered.

Her gasp cut through the room, and she stepped back.

“Easy, little mouse. I won’t hurt you.”

Her breathing quickened, but she didn’t run.

“Don’t move too far from the door you came through,” I said softly. “It’s not safe for you in here.”

Whatever her place in this compound, she didn’t move as though she had permission to be here.

And she’d come anyway.

I gave her a few seconds to think about her next move.

“Maybe you shouldn’t stay long. The men outside are brutal. I don’t want them hurting you because you came near me.”

She said nothing, but she still didn’t leave.

No guard had spoken outside the corridor since she had entered. She’d timed her visit and used a passage Ciro’s men either didn’t know existed or didn’t believe needed watching.

Water sloshed inside the bottle.

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry, and the effort triggered a cough. Pain tightened beneath my ribs. The second cough came rougher, bringing a sharp ache from the places their fists had landed over and over.

I waited for the coughing to ease.

“If that’s water, I’d be grateful for a little.”

She didn’t move.

“Just a mouthful,” I added.

After several seconds, she took one step, then another.

She crept closer, her footsteps nearly silent while her shallow breathing and faint orange-blossom scent grew stronger.

The rim of a bottle touched my lower lip.

Every part of me wanted to chase it and guzzle it down.