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“It’s personal now. The government wants to make an example out of Aram. This failure of mine… I’ll pay,” I say, keeping my words limited. Travis knows things, but I don’t have to make it easier for him.
He offers, “Would it help if I gave you Martí?”
Astonished, I ask, “You could do that?”
“Of course.”
I let his words sink in. He will give me Martí, but he decides to protect the Wraiths? Where is the logic? I have to ask, “Why are you trying to save them? What have they done for you?”
“It’s personal, White. There are certain things a man must do himself.” He knows my name, the real one. Of course, he does. I’m not even surprised.
“You need help. It’s been too long already. Aram’s out of control,” I insist.
“Don’t I know that already. I need you to take your poison, and I need you to leave this country. Your plane’s waiting,” he replies, his tone harsher than before.
“Did you see her?” The question is doused in desperation.
“Martí’s wife?”
I nod.
“I did.”
“What did she look like?” I ask.
“Broken. Not that I ever saw her as anything else in the duration of her stay.” He sighs, but there’s no relief for people like us. “What happened to you?”
“I have no idea. She… I’ve never met a woman like her.”
“You know who Martí is.”
I scoff at him. “I know.”
“And you’ll go after him?”
“Until he’s dust in the wind.” I’m determined. Gradually, my body picks up its senses, and I can focus again.
“Why?”
“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“Look, Martí doesn’t let her out of his sight—”
“I don’t care. I failed her that night.” I want to cry thinking back to what she went through. I have never felt like that. I’ve seen my brother hurt, my parents die… This woman carved a piece of my heart and swallowed it whole. “I… I won’t do that again.”
Travis suggests, “You don’t know her. Go home. Tell your employer about Martí. Save your ass.”
“I’m not worth saving, Travis Cross,” I remind him. “But she is. I’ll risk my life for her. I’ll put it all on the line for her, to ensure her safety. Her peace. She was dying in his arms. He hurt her soul, whatever’s left of it. Have you ever encountered such a broken spirit before?”
What a silly question on my end. “I do so every day.”
“Then you understand why I must do what I’m about to do.”
“Don’t lose your head, son.” He goes on, “These battles aren’t pretty.”
“I’m prepared to lose it all. I have nothing to live for but the glimmer of hope that I’ll see her again, and that maybe, I can help her. That I’ll do what I couldn’t do.”
It takes me a long time, but my plans come to fruition.
