Isabella raced down the corridors of the mansion, the dark, winding hallways seemed more terrifying than ever, each shadow stretching out like a grasping hand trying to pull her back, but she kept moving.
Earlier that afternoon, Alma had managed to slip sleeping pills into the food of the guards stationed outside the dungeon, a calculated plan Isabella had suggested to her and one Isabella currently prayed worked as she neared the entrance to the underground holding cells.
When she finally reached the entrance to the dungeon, the heavy iron door stood before her, an imposing barrier between her and her father. Her breath caught in her throat as she reached for the handle, hoping against hope that the guards were fast asleep as planned.
With a deep breath, she pushed the door open and st
