“Sit, princesa.” She pulls me down onto the stump again, and my bag hits the dirt at my feet. “You want to talk to your daddy? Vale, I’m going to give you ten seconds to convince your father to ship Sebastián’s product,” she says as she takes the clunky satellite phone from her pocket.

Her watch reads two thirty. My dad still has thirty minutes left until the deadline, but she clearly thinks he needs a nudge.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m not going to ask him to help you kill people. That’s not going to solve the world’s problems.”

Silvana grabs my chin, and I pretend her grip doesn’t hurt. “Don’t mistake me for one of Sebastián’s bleeding hearts, niña. I don’t give a shit about Colombia’s problems. I’m here to collect ransoms and secure distribution, so you can talk your father into cooperating, or we can let him listen over the phone while Álvaro takes you apart piece by piece.”

She lets me go, and my focus strays to Álvaro, who’s sharpening his machete with a large rock.

The stump I’m sitting on suddenly feels unsteady. All I can hear is the metallic scrape of that rock across Álvaro’s blade. All I can see is sunlight glinting off the sharp edge.

I fight to slow my breathing and when I tear my gaze from the machete, it’s drawn to Indiana. He’s leaning against a tree on the edge of the clearing, watching me. Ready to step in at the first sign that I need help, in spite of the personal risk.

If I tell my dad not to help Sebastián, I’ll be sacrificing Indiana and all the other hostages, along with myself. I have no right to do that. I don’t want to do that. But I can’t—

Silvana autodials a number, and my heart races while the phone rings. Once. Twice. “If you try to tell your papi where you are, I will slit your boyfriend’s throat right in front of you.”

“Hello?” my father says, and a sob explodes from my throat. “Silvana?”

She hands me the phone, and I grip it like a drowning man clutching a life raft. “Papi?”

“Genesis.” He sounds so relieved. “Are you okay? Have they hurt you?”

“I . . .” The words freeze on my tongue.

“Listen, princesa, don’t talk to them. Don’t listen to them. Don’t even look at them. Just sit tight and be smart. I’m going to get you out—”

“Don’t do it, Dad.” I swallow a sob and clear my throat. Then I suck in another breath and say the worst thing I’ve ever said to my father. The only thing that will work. “If you help them hurt those people, I swear to God, I’ll slit my own throat right here in the jungle.”

Silvana snatches the phone from me and slaps me across the face so hard that I land on the ground, two feet from the stump I was sitting on.

“Genesis!” my father shouts over the line.

Indiana lurches into motion, then freezes when Silvana points her pistol at him. But his focus stays glued to me.

“We both know your princesa won’t do that,” she spits into the phone as I bring my hand to my burning left cheek. “Álvaro’s here, Hernán, and he’s itching to show Genesis what you’ve been shielding her from, up in that ivory tower.”

This is why my father is so paranoid and protective. This is why I had to take Krav Maga and learn to shoot. This is why he wouldn’t let me come to Colombia.

Why my uncle was murdered. Why I was kidnapped. Why Ryan was shot.

And my mom . . . ?

I hear a thud, and my mother makes a strange sound. A hurting sound. Tears leak from the corners of my closed eyes. There’s another thud, and she gasps. My whole body shakes.

The thuds go on, and she stops making noises. But I keep my eyes squeezed shut.

I am a good girl.

“This is your daddy’s fault,” the man says as his footsteps thump closer.

My father shouts from the other end of the line, making threats I can’t understand, with my heart hammering in my ears.

“I’m going to give you one more chance,” Silvana says into the phone. “If I don’t hear from you by midnight with the coordinates of your closest ship, you know what we’ll do to her, Hernán.” Silvana hangs the phone up and slides it into her pocket.

My father’s furious shouting echoes in my head as she picks up her bottle and leaves me shaking on the ground, in the ruins of the delusion I’ve been living my whole life.

13.5 HOURS EARLIER

MADDIE

Another burst of static comes from the radio. “Hey, Shawn, can I get confirmation—”

I grab Luke’s hand as more audio fuzz swallows the rest. “That’s Julian.” Chills run up my spine. I’ll never forget his voice. “The man who shot Ryan.”

Luke’s hand goes stiff, and I swallow my disappointment. He still doesn’t trust me. But then his fingers intertwine with mine, and I give his palm a grateful squeeze.

The minute I really need him, there he is.

“Um, just a sec . . .” Shawn’s voice fades into more static while Luke and I stare at the radio. “. . . grab the list.” The radio goes silent for a minute, then the static comes back. “Okay, I . . . Angeles, Chicago, DC, Memphis . . . York, and Miami. Did you get all those?”

“Sí,” Julian says. “And Langley, Virginia.”

“No, man, Sebastián said the boss scratched Langley from the list last week.”

“Silvana . . . very clear,” Julian insists, his accent thick and harsh with anger. “No Langley, no deal. You do not . . . anger Moreno.”

“Okay . . . talk to Sebastián . . . get back to you,” Shawn says, and the static ends.

I squeeze Luke’s hand again, then let it go. “We are in way over our heads.”

Luke nods. “Yeah, that’s about the only part I understood.”

“It sounds like Silvana works for the Moreno cartel. What’s left of it, anyway.” The Morenos were big news during a rash of drug raids a couple of years ago. “And whoever Sebastián’s boss is, he isn’t afraid to piss the cartel off.”

“The cartel? So is this about cocaine?” Luke frowns. “The cities—are they some kind of distribution network?”

“But Langley?” My heart thuds in my ear while I try to figure out what’s going on.