Page 165 of Forbidden Fate

The photo is good. Zabala may have been a bastard, but he knew quality when his own freedom might one day depend on similar documents.

The officer scans it. Something on the screen loads.

My heart beats once.

Twice.

Three times.

“You should know how long you plan to stay.”

“Normally I would, but with the family stuff…”

He nods and hands me the passport. “Good to go.”

I take the passport before he can change his mind. “Gracias.”

“Next.”

I walk.

My flight is boarding soon.

Now I run.

Not a full sprint at first.

Then yes.

A full sprint.

People blur around me. Someone curses when I cut too close. An announcement echoes overhead.

“Final call for Houston.”

Houston.

My gate.

I run harder.

The gate comes into view just as the last cluster of passengers disappears down the jet bridge.

A woman at the desk reaches for the door.

“Wait,” I call.

She looks up.

I hold out the boarding pass.

“Please.”

She scans it. The machine beeps. For one terrible second, she frowns. Then the light changes.

“Go ahead,” she says.

I breathe a long sigh of relief as I walk through the jetway and board the plane.