The day crawled by slowly.
Catalina sat on the floor of her cell, her back was pressed against the cold stone wall and the map spread out on her lap. She had memorized every line, every mark, every note Miguel had written in tiny letters along the margins.
The old chapel was on the eastern side of the compound. Three corridors away from where she was now. Gabriel's cell was closer, just two doors down from hers. Lucien was deep underground, in the oldest part of the structure where the walls were thickest and the guards most numerous.
Her finger traced the route Miguel had marked. Through the corridor, past the guard station at midnight when they changed shifts, down the narrow stairwell that led to the abandoned section. From there, the chapel. And from the chapel, the tunnels.
It cou
