Julian glances at me, and I nod in agreement. It may be wrong, but in this moment, it seems right for her to be here, to see the one who hurt her come to this end.

“Bring her here,” Julian orders, and Lucas heads back into the hangar, leaving Julian and me alone with the Sullivans.

We watch our captives in grim silence, neither one of us feeling like speaking. The older man is already unconscious, having passed out from heavy bleeding, but Rosa’s attacker is quite vocal in his pleas for mercy. Sobbing and writhing on the ground, he promises us money, political favors, introduction to all the US cartels… whatever we want if only we would let him go. He swears he won’t touch any woman again, says it was a mistake—he didn’t know, didn’t realize who Rosa was… When neither Julian nor I react, his bargaining attempts turn into threats, and I tune him out, knowing nothing he says will change either of our minds. The anger within me is ice-cold, leaving no room for pity.

For what he’s done to Rosa and for the child we lost, Sean Sullivan deserves nothing less than death.

A minute later, Lucas comes back, leading a shaky-looking Rosa out of the hangar. The second she lays eyes on the two men, however, her face regains color and her gaze hardens. Approaching her attacker, she stares down at him for a couple of seconds before raising her eyes to us.

“May I?” she asks, holding out her hand, and Lucas smiles coldly, handing her his rifle. Her hands steady, she aims at her assailant.

“Do it,” Julian says, and I watch yet another man die as his face is blown apart. Before the echo from Rosa’s shot fades, Julian steps toward unconscious Patrick Sullivan and releases a round of bullets into his chest.

“We’re done here,” he says, turning away from the corpse, and the four of us walk back to the plane.

On the way home, Thomas pilots the plane while Lucas rests in the main cabin with Julian, myself, and Rosa. Upon seeing all of us alive, my mom breaks down in hysterical sobs, so Julian leads my parents into the plane’s bedroom, telling them to take a shower and relax there. I want to go see how they are, but the combination of exhaustion and post-adrenaline slump finally catches up to me.

As soon as we’re in the air, I pass out in my seat, my hand held tightly in Julian’s grip.

I don’t remember landing or getting to the house. The next time I open my eyes, we’re already in our bedroom at home, and Dr. Goldberg is cleaning and bandaging my scrapes. I vaguely recall Julian washing the blood off me on the plane, but the rest of the trip is a blur in my mind.

“Where are my parents?” I ask as the doctor uses tweezers to get a small piece of glass out of my arm. “How are they feeling? And what about Rosa and Lucas?”