She had looked afraid of what Inmaculada’s order would cost her with someone else.

And that, more than the tape, more than the mark on Amparo’s arm, was the thing that made Inmaculada certain the danger was not some intruder slipping in and out but something rooted, established, with a hold on a member of her own community.

You do not wear that particular face for a stranger.

You wear it for someone who owns you.

Inmaculada did not yet know who owned Soledad.