I woke up being shaken by Isabela.
Seeing her alard face, I sprang from the cushion and scanned the surroundings.
It was still night. The lamp on the table remained the brightest thing in the room. Through the gaps in the window, I saw only darkness.
There was no one else but the two of us.
"What’s wrong, hija?" I focused on her. She looked freshly woken but neither sick nor in pain.
"It’s Vicente... he’s knocking outside," she told .
I furrowed my brow. I rembered how she was blushing last night.
My still-groggy mind imdiately conjured a theory. What if sothing had happened between them in my room—sothing that happened nightly—and Vicente had simply forgotten I had returned, demanding entrance to continue it?
But my indignation lasted only a mont. What I heard next filled with terrible sha for ever doubting the two of them.
"Heneral!" Vicente knocked again, clearly looking for .
"What is it, and why couldn’t it wait until morning?" I called out.
"It’s Don Contreras’ grandson... he’s been caught."
That was news. Colonel Abad must have finally succeeded. But how could he have done it without force? And why did it require my imdiate attention?
My heart began to race as my ears adjusted and picked up the other sounds—a low murmur from a crowd below.
I left the bed at once and moved to the door.
Vicente stood outside in a crumpled uniform. His buttons were uneven, and his holster wasn’t tightly fitted. The news must have co to him just as suddenly.
"What’s the matter?" I asked, then walked toward the window in the sala to glimpse what was happening below.
"Severino Contreras was caught trying to flee toward the river, where a boat had been arranged for his escape," Vicente answered.
That was good news, but sothing still didn’t sit right.
The town had been roused. Townsfolk were opening windows and doors to peek out. From the street below, a furious crowd holding torches was being held back by Dimalanta and the escolta.
I looked back at Vicente. This should have been a mont of satisfaction. But his face was troubled.
"Did sothing happen, Vicente?" I asked sternly.
"Severino... he was brought here bleeding and beaten."
He was only supposed to be detained, not punished—he hadn’t even been tried.
"And how did this happen? Why didn’t Colonel Abad stop it? This will make things worse." I pald my hair in frustration. All that training was supposed to instill discipline, only for them to make a blunder like this.
"No, Heneral... he wasn’t caught in Balanacan. It wasn’t Colonel Abad’s n who apprehended him," Vicente said. "...or any of our soldiers."
My face twisted in confusion. I slightly shook my head.
"He was caught in Tabigue. The villagers there recognized him and tried to apprehend him."
Tabigue—just the next barrio over. Closer, and in the opposite direction from Balagasan. We had been played by Don Contreras. But it seed his plan had ultimately backfired.
Vicente swallowed nervously before continuing, "But he resisted, and all hell broke loose. The villagers dragged him here... his face swollen, bruises all over his body."
I imdiately went downstairs.
The young man lay in the sa bed, in the sa cell Señor Grimaldo had once used. He was, as Vicente described, terribly beaten, unable even to sit up. The maids carefully washed his wounds, tears in their eyes at the pitiful state he was in.
I hadn’t known he was conscious. But when his eyes opened and saw standing at the cell door, he tried to sit up—he couldn’t. His face contorted in pain.
"Don Martin..." he said, sobbing, his voice muffled by his swollen, violet lips, "I didn’t do it... I promise... I didn’t."
My heart ached at the sight, and my skin crawled. I walked out of the cell. Vicente followed , he had reacted the sa as the maids minus the tears.
"What do we... do next?" he scratched his head.
"Get the town doctor," I ordered. "And send word to Colonel Abad—have him and his n recalled here."
---
"He has bruises from his head to the soles of his feet. The deeper wounds will need stitching. I also suspect a couple of fractured ribs," said Señor Nicanor Soriano, standing just a ter outside the cell door. "But I believe he’ll pull through—assuming, of course, that he’s allowed to rest and I’m permitted to treat him."
I nodded. Señor Soriano had been the town doctor since his father’s death. Like most doctors of the ti, he could hurt a patient as much as heal him. But when it ca to physical trauma, I trusted him.
"Thank you, doctor. And yes, you’ll be allowed to tend to him regularly—and you will be paid for your services accordingly," I assured him.
He shook his head and sighed. I suspected he disapproved of what had happened and likely blad . I watched him walk away until he disappeared through the main door.
The crowd had been dispersed. Sargento Guzman and his n were fully deployed, setting up checkpoints around the Casa Real.
Peace and silence returned—but I knew it was only the calm before the storm.
Once the sun rose over the horizon, the town would be in chaos.
I would rather face the pirates again than what awaited in the morning.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, unaware I was starting to drift off, when I heard the sound of hurried footsteps. I stood up straight, wiping my mouth of the drool.
Dimalanta appeared at the far end of the corridor and turned toward at once.
"There’s soone here for you, Heneral," he said.
"Has Colonel Abad arrived?" I asked. If I was to maintain order, I would need his n.
He shook his head. My chest tightened.
"Is it Don Contreras?" I furrowed my brows. But that would not make sense.
"No, it’s not, Heneral. It’s Señora Alcantara... and she looks real upset."
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