Half a dozen armed resistance fighters help liberate the facility, and within an hour of Trevor killing Ochoa, The Crypt is nothing but a burned out shell. Ry, Graham, and Ronan went back through the lower floors after everyone still living had been cleared out and set explosives on every level.
“Blowing it now,” Ry says from his position just outside of the open doors of the van. Trevor leans against me, and though he looks a lot better after two bottles of water and a protein bar, there’s a haunted, almost vacant look in his eyes that breaks my heart.
The ground under us shakes, and even from half a mile away, we can hear The Crypt’s windows shatter.
Trevor jerks, and I reach over and cup his cheek. “Look at me, TJ.” As soon as he does, I regret asking. With the bright red wound now bisecting my cheek and blood staining my face and chest, every time he sees me, he blames himself even more.
I don’t know how we can get past this. Or if we ever will. But dammit, I have to try to get through to him. “Listen to me. I am never going to give up on you. I lost you once because I was too scared to get in your face and tell you how I felt. I’m not now.”
He starts to protest, but Austin clears his throat as he ducks his head inside the van. “Dani, Luis is here.”
Letting Trevor go feels wrong, but Luis had to watch Ochoa torture me, and he’s the reason for everything that’s happened since I walked into Trevor’s office two weeks ago. The good and the bad. “I’ll be right back,” I whisper as I brush my lips to Trevor’s cheek.
Luis leans heavily on Franco and another man—one of the resistance fighters—and his eyes light up as I step out of the van.
“Mi hija—“
The term—my daughter—sends panic flooding me. “Don’t. Please.” Behind me, Trevor gets to his feet, and I glance back at him. He’s in full protective mode, but I shake my head, and he sinks back down onto the bench seat, but keeps his eyes glued on me.
“I’m sorry,” I say when I turn back to Luis. “That came out wrong.” A deep breath shudders through me, and I try again. “Kate died when I was less than a year old. When I was eight, I was adopted by two amazing people. Steve and Betsy are my parents in every way that counts.” Looking to Austin, I hold out my hand, and he joins me. “And this is their son, my brother, Austin.”
Luis’s eyes water, and he presses his lips together when they start to wobble.
“This…me coming here? It was never about replacing my dad. It was about finding the man who saved Kate from a dangerous, terrible situation, and being able to look him in the eyes and thank him.”
A single tear spills onto his cheek. “I put you in great danger,” he says. “I understand if you cannot forgive me.”
“No!” I rush forward and take Luis’s hand. “There’s nothing to forgive. You have to see that.” With a quick peek back at Trevor, I hope he understands my words are meant as much for him as Luis. “You are a good man. A fighter. A leader. Once I learned that, I had to do something. I thought writing an article for the Post would be enough. That if I did my job and prayed for a miracle, that I’d be able to help you—and the Venezuelan people. And learn a little about where I came from.”
“You did that,” he says.
“No.” Shaking my head makes my cheek throb, but I hide my wince as I release Luis’s hand and gesture to the men around me. “We did that. All of us. Along with half a dozen people back in the United States. And you.”
“I did nothing but cause you pain. You were injured because of me. You could have been killed. Because of me. I abandoned you so many years ago, and now—“
I stop him. “Luis, you gave me so much more than you’ll ever know. But, I can’t stay here, and you can’t leave. The people here need you. Once we release all the records we found of Farías and Ochoa’s crimes, this country is going to need leaders who care. Who are honest and good and will do what’s best for its people. You’re one of them.”
Luis’s shoulders straighten, and his chest puffs out slightly at my praise.
“I don’t think I can ever come back to Venezuela again. But…maybe when things settle down a bit, you could call me. Or send me an email.”
He nods, another tear staining his cheek. “I would like that. To know you.”
I hug the man I may never call father, but who will forever be a part of my family, and then watch as his brother and the other resistance fighter help him back down the street.
Ryker appears without warning at my side and stares down at me. “Ready to get the fuck out of here?”
Looking back at Trevor, I realize just how much I need to get him alone so we can talk about…everything. “Hell yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Trevor
Nothing around me feels real.
Dani and Austin on either side of me. Ryker behind the wheel with Graham next to him. Ronan sitting behind me.
Am I still in the cell at The Crypt? Dying from dehydration, lack of sleep, and starvation? Did that bastard Ochoa finally kill me and this is some sort of afterlife?
