The gym wasn't made for her use, it was for Dante's team, for the fighters, protectors, and killers who kept their bodies in shape just like they did their weapons. But Isla had learned to see details that others had missed, to see the little changes in what people did regularly, and the errors that were overlooked.
That night, after the last of the guys had finished their training and left laughing, the weights were still all over the place, and the floor pads were still soaked with sweat. Isla paused by the entrance, and her heart was racing. She shouldn't have been there, women like her, prisoners that were dressed in fancy silk dresses, were expected to sip wine and nicely wait on orders about what to do.
But she wasn't planning to wait.
