Page 66 of Muerte

Her eyes then settled on me. There was a depth to her gaze that made me uneasy. "I give you my word. You'll each find your place eventually and become who you were always meant to be."

Selena glanced at Seraphine before interjecting with a note of understanding. “Change is always sudden and can be unwelcome, but your presence here is no accident; it is destiny."

Their idea of destiny was an awfully convenient excuse for what was essentially kidnapping. Seraphine continued, unfazed.

"It’s not all about child rearing and servitude. Outside your natural roles, your responsibilities include upholding the doctrine of our faith, supporting our community, and representing the pinnacle of Impío virtue."

Thinking about what Nicolette had revealed earlier, I found my voice. "And if we fail in these responsibilities?"

Seraphine's gaze swiveled to me, as sharp as a whip, her words brooking no room for argument.

"Failure is not an option, Lolita. You will not have to worry about the outcome of doing so. The Isle does not make mistakes. Diabolus does not make mistakes. There is a reason you are his."

I felt a surge of anger at her insinuation of ownership, the words echoing in my mind like a sinister mantra. The notion that it was widely accepted that Alexander had some predestined claim over me was revolting. That went for the women beside me as well.

We’d been branded me like cattle, and I’d had a blade taken to my skin as if it were Alexander’s personal canvas. As I opened my mouth to retort, a subtle nudge from Keres caught me off guard. She shook her head slightly, a silent advisement not to bother. Reluctantly, I swallowed the harsh words that had risen in my throat.

The remainder of the session blurred into a stream of daunting rules and roles. The mention of our next lesson being about the families we were now bound to only deepened my sense of entrapment.

Seraphine ended her lecture suggesting we get to know one another better. It felt like a hollow attempt at camaraderie. She retreated to her desk and promptly put pen to paper.

Keres, sensing the tense atmosphere, broached a light, inconsequential topic. I quickly understood her intent; this was a strategic move to steer our conversation away from anything that might cross a line with the men we’d been paired with. She was being smart—safe. Her wit and charm had become evident as we sat together. I admired her ability to adapt.

“So, what was everyone’s favorite hobby before we rounded up and dropped here?” she asked, a hint of mischief in her voice.

It was a nice change of pace, distant from the reality that now enveloped us. Pandora's response came with a gentle, almost wistful smile.

“I was really into ice skating. Playing the piano, too. They were always...my escape.”

It was difficult to reconcile the image of a woman who found solace in the delicate dance on ice and tender keys of a piano with the harsh reality of our surroundings.

I remembered the unsettling sight of her being led by a man in a skulled deer mask, a surreal and jarring contrast to her serene demeanor. I couldn't help but wonder if her blindness shielded her from the full horror of our situation, or if it made her feel even more trapped.

Keres looked at me, her grey eyes expectant. “What about you, Lolita?”

I hesitated, then shared a piece of my past, something more recent. “I worked at a resort. I liked exploring the nearby trails on my days off. Nature always felt... freeing.” The irony wasn’t lost on me. I gave a slight shake of my head. “If I wasn’t doing that, I camped out in bed binging a Turkish drama.”

Keres laughed, a sound that held both warmth and a hint of sorrow. “Freeing, huh? That’s something we could all use a bit more of now.”

"Yeah," I replied quietly, a tinge of sorrow lining my words. There was a strange comfort in not being alone in this ordeal, yet the thought of Anya somewhere on this Isle, potentially enduring something worse, brought a fresh wave of heartache. I knew without a doubt she didn’t have the same comforts I did.

Pandora turned her unseeing eyes towards Keres. "What about you?"

Keres leaned back, a rueful smile playing on her lips. "Horseback riding," she began, her voice holding a note of nostalgia. "And I had a thing for art too, especially painting. It was my way of expressing things I couldn't put into words." She sighed, her gaze drifting off as if she could see her past laid out before her. "Feels like a lifetime ago now."

The conversation continued in this vein, each of us sharing fragments of our lives, careful to avoid the edges of our current reality. As we talked, I noticed Selena observing me, her expression tinged with something akin to wistful contemplation.

The door suddenly swung open, abruptly halting our conversation. Alexander entered first, followed by two men whose presence filled the room. Their attire was an embodiment of the hierarchy and style characteristic of the Isle's elite—finely tailored dark suits that accentuated their forms impeccably.

One of the men went directly to Pandora, greeting her with a gentle touch on her cheek. I remembered another of Nicolette’s warnings and made sure the notice I took of him was fleeting. I was surprised this was the man beneath the deer mask. He didn’t look like I imagined.

He was the same height as Alexander with a tad bigger build, double the tattoos, and a head of dark, slightly wavy hair. His deep-set eyes were an odd shade of forest green and stood out against tanned skin. A sharp jawline and high cheekbones gave him an intensity that was hard to ignore. Before him, Pandora’s body language remained reserved, her hands resting demurely in her lap, hinting at a cautious awareness.

The third and final man was the epitome of arrogance. His every step radiated a self-assuredness that bordered on superiority. His features were sharply defined, an air of confidence etched into his very being. His eyes, dark and penetrating, held a hint of amusement as they met Keres' barely concealed scorn. As he drew nearer, her posture stiffened, a subtle but tangible sign of her discomfort.

Yet, despite her apparent aversion, she managed to maintain her outward composure. The man, seemingly unperturbed by her obvious disdain, leaned in with an almost taunting smirk playing on his lips and whispered something in her ear that even I couldn’t hear, resulting in her outright scowling.

It was clear he relished the power dynamics at play, thriving on the tension he elicited. It reminded me of a certain someone. The commanding aura surrounding these men mirrored that of Alexander, whose attention had turned towards Seraphine.