Page 141 of Forbidden Fate

In my pocket is a wad of 100,000-peso notes.

Fuck. Where’s my gun?

I took it out of my waistband in the basement when I changed into the gray sweats.

I can’t go back now.

No time.

I reach for the car door⁠—

“Leaving without saying goodbye, Cruz?”

The voice is familiar. Familiar as arsenic.

Adriana.

37

ROBIN

I drive with my hands locked around the steering wheel. Thank God Señora Valentina’s car has GPS. What was I thinking, just leaving without having a clue how to get to the embassy?

Every intersection feels like a trap. Every motorbike that pulls too close makes my heart slam into my ribs. Every man standing on a corner becomes Zabala. Every dark car in the rearview mirror becomes Vega.

I don’t know if I’m going the right way half the time.

I don’t know if I’m being followed.

I don’t know if Cruz is alive.

No.

I shove that thought away so hard it hurts.

I think about the road. The next turn. The embassy.

My throat is dry. I have no passport. No phone. The peso notes Cruz gave me.

When the embassy finally comes into view, I almost miss it.

I park quickly and run to the gate, ready to kiss the American flag.

Someone approaches. “May I help you?”

“I’m an American citizen,” I say. “I need help.”

After that, things happen quickly and not quickly enough.

Questions.

Identification I don’t have.

Names.

Dates.

My voice shakes as I explain enough to be believed but not enough to collapse. I say kidnapped. I say held against my will. I say escaped. I say my family is in Texas. I say I need to call them.