The days in prison had begun to merge into one another like rain sliding down a glass pane indistinct, blurry, without form.
Morning turned into afternoon, afternoon bled into evening, and before Ana realized it, weeks had passed since she had first been thrown into this cold, suffocating place. Yet, in that time, something in her had shifted.
At first, she had been nothing more than Santiago's grieving daughter, the woman accused of killing her own father, the woman whose husband had betrayed her in open court.
But now, she was learning what it meant to exist within these walls. She was learning survival and much of that was because of Angel.
Angel was unlike anyone Ana had ever met. Rough around the edges but strangely protective, the kind of woman who could curse out a guard with fire in her eyes yet gently hand Ana half of her bread at lunch without a second thought. She had become Ana's anchor, her guide in this dark abyss.
Still, prison was unpredictable. Behind the walls, secrets thrived, and one night Ana stumbled upon one of the strangest.
That evening, after roll call and supper, the women were herded back into their cells. The clang of metal doors shutting echoed through the corridor, followed by the familiar silence of resignation.
Ana sat on her bunk, her knees pulled to her chest, staring at the cracked ceiling.
Angel was across from her, humming softly to herself while she braided her hair.
"Another day gone," Angel muttered, tying the braid with a strip of cloth. "And we're still breathing. That's what counts."
Ana gave her a tired smile. "You make it sound simple."
"It is. You just have to remember the world doesn't stop because you're stuck here. Out there? The people you love still live, still fight, still… wait. That's what I tell myself."
The words touched Ana more deeply than she expected. She thought of Alejandro, of his conflicted visit where tears had betrayed his calm façade.
She thought of Mariana, Isabella, and the venom they carried into her cell the last time they came. Most of all, she thought of her father, the memory of his last smile haunting her like a ghost.
Her chest tightened, but before she could dwell, movement caught her eye.
From the cell next to theirs, a slim figure slid across the floor with practiced silence. It was a girl…no, a woman about Ana's age, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that glittered in the dim light.
Ana had seen her before in the cafeteria but had never exchanged words.
The woman crouched near the bars, glanced both ways down the corridor, then reached into a loose brick near the floor. To Ana's shock, she pulled out what looked like a small, jagged key.
Ana's breath caught.
The woman worked with quick precision, twisting the key into the lock. A faint click followed. She waited for a beat, then slid the door open with such ease it was almost unbelievable.
Ana leaned forward, heart racing.
The woman didn't notice her. She slipped into the shadows of the hallway, moving with the confidence of someone who had done this many times before. Within seconds, she was gone.
Ana stared at the open space where the woman had been, her mind spinning. Did the guards know? How could anyone just leave the prison like that? And where did she go?
She turned to Angel, but Angel was already lying down, eyes closed, humming again as though she hadn't seen a thing. Ana pressed her lips together, torn between speaking and staying quiet.
That night, she couldn't sleep.
***
The next morning, the cafeteria buzzed with its usual chaos, women shouting over each other, spoons clanging against metal trays, guards barking orders to keep the line moving. Ana sat with Angel, nibbling at her bread, still distracted by what she had seen.
And then, the woman appeared.
She slid onto the bench across from Ana, her tray barely touched, her expression calm, almost smug. Her eyes met Ana's, and in that brief exchange, Ana knew: she had noticed her watching last night.
"Name's Lucia," the woman said, her voice low and smooth, carrying just enough weight to sound dangerous.
Ana blinked. "Ana."
"I know who you are," Lucia replied with a smirk. "Everyone does. Santiago's daughter. The one with the messiest case in here. Murder. Family. Betrayal. It's like a telenovela."
Ana flushed, clutching her spoon tighter. "I didn't—"
"I know," Lucia cut her off. "Or maybe you did. Doesn't matter to me." She leaned forward, eyes narrowing slightly. "What matters is that you don't tell anyone what you saw last night."
Ana's stomach dropped.
Lucia smirked at her silence. "You're smart. I can tell. Not like half the women in here who can't keep their mouths shut. So I'll make this simple: I leave, I come back, no one knows. You keep quiet, we'll be fine. You talk, and… well." She let the threat hang in the air like smoke.
Ana swallowed hard but nodded. "I won't say anything."
Lucia leaned back, satisfied. "Good girl. You'll find out soon enough — some of us don't survive here by following the rules. We make our own."
Then, without another word, she stood and walked away, leaving Ana trembling slightly.
***
Back in their cell later, Ana sat on the bunk, deep in thought. Angel glanced at her.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Angel said.
Ana hesitated, then forced a smile. "It's nothing. Just tired."
Angel studied her for a long moment, then shrugged. "Suit yourself. But remember what I told you, secrets in here? They can kill you. Faster than any knife."
Ana didn't answer. She couldn't.
Because now she carried one more secret on top of everything else: Lucia's nightly escapes.
And for the first time since arriving in prison, Ana felt that the walls around her weren't just holding her in, they were watching her, pressing in on her, reminding her that danger came in many forms.
Still, amid the uncertainty, her bond with Angel grew stronger. At night, they whispered about life before prison, about regrets, about dreams of freedom.
Angel taught her how to spot manipulation in conversations, how to read body language, how to bluff confidence when fear was clawing inside.
"You've got to sharpen your spirit, Ana," Angel told her one night, tapping her chest. "Because in here? That's your only real weapon."
Ana nodded, letting the words sink into her bones.
But she kept silent about Lucia.
Because deep down, she feared that secret was more dangerous than anything else waiting in the shadows of the prison.