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“We don’t have enough security here, anyways,” Aldar bats for me.
Juan sighs. “Fine.” He turns to me and gestures to follow him. “If we have to, can you run?”
I take a fragile step forward and my sore body clenches with countless aches and pains. “Yes,” I answer, unsure if it’s the truth or not.
“Very well. Let’s go,” I follow as Juan and Aldar skip down the steps. My legs are wobbly but I manage to keep up. When we step outside, though, I stop for a moment to study my surroundings.
Nothing is recognisable.
We’re clearly not in the slums anymore, but this doesn’t look like downtown or midtown either. “Are we still in Cali?” I ask, as Aldar opens up the backdoor to a sleek black Mercedes for me.
“Sort of,” Juan answers, slamming the passenger door shut behind him.
My brain is too scrambled to ask any more questions. I slink down into the plush leather seats of the luxury car and let the comfort ease my worried mind.
Aldar gets in the driver’s seat and we pull out of a circular driveway. The four-story colonial mansion that we just left slowly starts to disappear behind us. For a split-second, I swear I can see a woman and two young children staring out at the car through a third-floor window. A young boy, old enough to stand, waves goodbye. I can’t help but wave back.
Where the hell are we?
Aldar pulls out onto a dirt road and promptly stomps his foot against the accelerator. The car bursts forward and I fall further into the back seat. Out of my window, I can see the tips of jungle trees swaying just over top of the large grey partitions that border the makeshift highway.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To pick up Angel,” Juan states the obvious. He’s focused on his phone, but I have nothing to focus on but him. The last thing I want to do is get lost in my misery again. Right now, distraction is my friend.
“Where is Angel?”
Juan pockets his phone and glances back at me. “Getting ready.”
A small thread of anxiety tightens around my throat. I try to swallow it down. “Getting ready for what?”
“The final battle.”
28
Angel
A plume of dust rises in the distance and I prepare myself to see her again.
How long has it been since our little family was forcefully torn apart? Two days? Three?
It feels like an eternity, but I’ve been working the whole time.
The first face I see when the car pulls up is Juan’s. The slick black Mercedes comes to a stop on the dusty makeshift tarmac and he immediately hops out of the passenger’s seat. His eyes don’t fall on me, though, instead, he gazes at the idling jumbo jet behind me.
“Everything’s here already?” he asks, stupefied.
I fucking wish. “No,” I tell him, as he rushes up to shake my hand. His fingers fall against my shoulder and I try to hide the wince of pain that wants to cross my face. I’m still sore as hell, but I’ve been desperately trying to fight off all of my aches in favor of more important matters.
Oscar. “Cat...”
She looks just as sore as I feel. Both of her hands grip the back door as she pulls herself out of the car. The driver rushes forward to help her; I’m not far behind.
“Thank you, Aldar,” she whispers, and I take over for the man I recognize from that horrible night.
“Thank you,” I echo. “You did good, kid.” He couldn’t be much younger than I am, but he’s clearly new to this life. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was a welder or a plumber or something before this revolution broke out—now, he’s working for the former cartel king of Colombia.
Future cartel king, too, I have to remind myself. I’m not giving up yet. I can’t.
