*Luca*
Smoke still hangs over Toledo like a veil of judgment. Morning light pushes through it in streaks, golden and accusing. I move through the crooked alleyways with a dagger tucked in my boot and another strapped to my ribs beneath my tunic. The fire at the prison wasn’t just destruction. It was a message.
Ramón had it lit to feed the chaos. He fanned the flames with oil and orders, and I’m sure he had help. Perhaps there are more of them, tucked inside the city like splinters under my skin. The thought curdles in my stomach.
I leave Ava at the bathhouse and head toward a small tavern I trust near the river’s edge. The owner owes me a favor, or three, and I know she’ll help without asking questions. The survivors from the prison need something warm in their bellies. Whatever I can c
