Page 123 of Forbidden Fate

“You were about to tell me why Vega wanted that body,” she says.

I stare at her. “Robin.”

“No.”

“Do you understand what’s happening?”

“Yes.”

“No,” I say, stepping closer, keeping my voice low so the women hurrying down the hall don’t hear the panic rising in it. “I don’t think you do.”

“I understand perfectly.”

“We have maybe an hour,” I say. “Maybe less before Vega’s goons descend on this house and burn it to the goddamned ground.”

Her face tightens.

Good.

Let the truth be ugly enough to move her.

“We can’t stand here and talk,” I continue. “We need to leave. Now.”

“I realize that.”

“Then move.”

“No.”

Mercedes rushes past us with a small suitcase in one hand and a pair of shoes in the other. Her eyes are red, but she’s not crying. Esmeralda is behind her, ushering two younger women down the hallway, whispering instructions too quickly for me to catch. A door bangs open upstairs on the third floor. Someone sobs.

The house is unraveling.

Every second matters.

And Robin won’t move.

I drag a hand through my hair but stop when I remember my fingers are sticky with blood.

Christ.

“Robin, please.”

She straightens her shoulders. “I need to know right now if I can trust you.”

The hallway seems to stretch between us.

“You can trust me to get you out.”

“That’s not enough.”

“It has to be.”

She crosses her arms. “No, Cruz. It doesn’t.”

I look down at the floor because looking at her is becoming dangerous. Everything about her is dangerous right now. Her fear. Her stubbornness. Her insistence that truth and trust matter when men with guns are probably loading into vehicles as we speak.

I should throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the car.