I found Mateo’s hands.
Squeezed them.
There was no response save the twitch of his lips against my shoulder, and I smiled, turning my gaze to the window.
Early morning light misted through the glass. It was almost dawn, but not quite. Sunrise was still a while away and the compound was, for once, silent and still.
The quiet gave me a moment to appreciate every facet of being with Mateo. Every sensation. He had one hand on top of my head, like he was ready to comfort me at any moment. The other rested on my hip, fingers splayed. I knew I’d slept through him rubbing soothing circles into the bone with the pad of his thumb.
I closed my eyes again, imagining it, sinking into Mateo’s embrace, all the while fighting sleep. I’d been tired before we’d fallen into this bed, and I was tired still, but with war hanging over us, these moments were too precious to miss.
Drifting, I let Mateo’s stillness ground me—
Mateo snatched a sharp breath and bolted upright. It was abrupt enough for me to realise I hadn’t been truly awake at all, and the violence of it jammed raw fear into my throat.
I reached for him, but he was already scrambling out of bed. Then I heard it, the sound of a commotion outside.
Mateo flung the door open and disappeared. I fought the haze of sleep and staggered to the window.
Locke was at the gates, struggling to contain a figure I couldn’t quite make out.
I wrenched the window up and climbed out onto the roof, traversing the tarmac and slates in bare feet.
The picnic table was further out than it had been the last time I’d hurled myself onto it, but I didn’t give a fuck. I jumped. Landed on the weathered wood and hit the ground running, stones biting into my feet.
Locke wound his big arms around the intruder at the gates. A woman with short hair and golden skin. She fought like a lion, screaming, her gaze fixed on a smaller figure I hadn’t noticed from the roof.
A girl.
Achild.
Locke couldn’t contain them both. The clubhouse doors burst open as the girl slipped free, evading Folk as he appeared from the bunkhouse, light on her feet and full of speed.
She pelted across the yard, dark curls misting behind her, round, amber eyes wide and scared.
I darted to intercept her, but like Folk, my hands found air.
The girl screamed, tripping over her own feet, but she didn’t fall. She found balance from nowhere, threw herself beyond me, and leapt into Mateo’s open arms.
“Papá!”
17
MATEO
She had amber eyes. And long black hair that curled at the ends.
Her name was Liliana.
She was my daughter.
I watched her sprint across the yard with fire in her eyes, evading my brothers, her tiny feet dancing over the dusty tarmac. Her body collided with mine, slender arms a vice around my neck, and I knew in that moment that nothing would ever be the same again.
Her hair smelt like hay and bubble gum. I buried my face in it, the world closing in to just us and this precious split second of joy.
She was here. In my arms, inmyhome, and I was never letting go.
Reality was a kick in the dick. Footsteps approached. Heavy boots and the lighter tread of a woman.
