I nod and then look at the piece of shit in front of me one last time. "Did you touch her anywhere else?"

"What?" He shakes his head in disgust. "No way. Abel wouldn't let us do that."

"You're lucky I'm in a forgiving mood," I tell him.

"Really?" He perks up, blinking his bloody eyelids hopefully.

"Yes," I answer flatly as I drag the tip of the knife to the pulsing vein in his throat. "I forgive you for being so fucking ignorant. You didn't know not to touch what belongs to me."

I stab him in the throat. Once. Twice. Three times, until his blood flows in rivers down my arms and the gurgling noise in his mouth fades to nothingness. When I drop him to the floor, Marco kicks him in the face for good measure.

"Just checking." He shrugs when I look at him. "We gotta go."

I pivot toward my wife, pausing briefly to untangle the hair from her face. Blood smears over her cheek when I stroke it, and warmth fills my chest when I pick her up and cradle her limp body in my arms.

"Time to go home." I whisper the words against her ear, finishing them with a kiss. "Where you belong."

6

Ivy

I feel heavy. Arms and legs like lead. But he lifts me without effort, and when my arm falls away, he carefully adjusts his hold, tucking that arm over my belly. I realize the zip ties are gone and try to open my eyes, but I can’t. I only get glimpses as we hurry through the small house and what I see is a massacre. Blood. Death.

I groan, and he hugs me closer, and when I’m alert again, I feel the vibration of the moving car beneath me, and panic sets in. They’re moving me again. I’m on the floor of that car again.

“Shh. You’re safe. I’m here.”

Santiago.

He pets my hair, fingers gentle, and I take in the scent of him. It’s not those men. I’m not on the floor of the car. I’m lying on leather, and my head is on his lap, his hands gentle. He wasn’t gentle a little while ago. Not with that doctor. Not with the man.

“Shh,” he repeats, telling me over and over again that he’s here, and that I’m safe.

I’m quiet again. Heavy. When I stop fighting it, I feel myself relax so completely it’s tempting to give over to it.

I’m safe.

Santiago is here. I am safe.

The baby, though. Our baby. I try to concentrate, to mentally scan my body. I’d feel if they’d done it, wouldn’t I? If they'd taken the baby. Does Santiago know what they did? Did he arrive in time to stop it?