She has the audacity to shrug. “We all do what we must to survive, mija.”

“Don’t call me that. You called us all that. You called Rosalita that and you—”

It all becomes clear to me in an excruciating moment.

“It was you, wasn’t it? You handed her over to them”—I jerk my chin in the direction of Cristobal—“and for what? Money?” My voice rises with each word. “Power? What?”

“Silver is the language of this city,” Esmeralda says. “Of this world.”

I spit in her direction. Sadly, my spittle lands a few feet short. “You’re a monster.”

“I was a mother to that girl,” Esmeralda hisses. “And how does she repay me? By running off to be some nobleman’s whore?” She shakes her head. “That foolish girl should have known better than to aim so high. The Sonza boy would have dropped her the second he grew bored.”

I lunge at her, musket be damned.

“Don’t shoot her, you fool!” Cristobal hollers, his voice bouncing off the mission’s walls. Can’t have that. He needs me alive. I am the only thing guaranteeing Kiki’s obedience in this charade. Kill me, and he loses the best card in his hand.

Musket man hesitates. It’s just for a second, but that’s all I need. My hands may be tied but I’ve still got my feet. I rear up, kicking out. My boot collides with Esmeralda’s chin, knocking her backward. The archbishop scampers to the rear of the church, Bible clutched tightly to his chest, eager to get out of the way of any contagious violence.

Esmeralda sags forward, moaning as she clutches her jaw. I press her against the wall, my forearm pinning her neck in place. When she tries to swallow, I press down harder.

“Please, mija—”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Enough!” Cristobal’s voice ricochets like cannon fire. “Seize her!”

“Seize her?” I bark out a jagged laugh. “Who talks like that?”

They are not very clever words. They might also be my last.

Kiki’s shout is the only warning I have before something slams into me from behind. My head throbs with the impact, and my vision goes dark.

CHAPTER 37

Kiki

Sebastian holds me back as I watch Cristobal’s hired muscle—the one with the musket—toss Ana’s limp body over his shoulder. I fight with everything I have, but Sebastian has me beat on height and weight and sheer strength. Unarmed and barefoot, I do not stand much of a chance. But still I try, futile as my efforts are.

“The more you struggle,” he says into my ear, “the worse this will be.”