The villa no longer felt like Dante's fortress. The walls were thick, the gates locked, and the guards doubled after every rumor of betrayal, yet an unease stretched through the corridors like a living shadow. Whispers carried faster than footsteps. Eyes shifted quickly away when caught. Even the silence had teeth.
Isla felt it most at night. When she lay in her chamber, the air thick with damp from the rain, she could hear the unrest pressing in. Men argued beneath their breath. Some begged for release, others cursed Dante's name. Luca's influence was spreading like poison, and though no messenger reached her directly, Isla could feel the pull of it. The empire was splitting, and she was lodged in the heart of the fracture.
