Chapter 11
The tunnel is colder than I expected. After the warmth of Lucien’s house, the cool stone feels like it’s holding the night inside. Or maybe that’s just the darkness filling my heart.
The air smells like earth, old metal, and something faintly bitter. My sandals whisper against the uneven ground as I walk, every sound too loud in my head.
Lucien walks ahead of me with a flashlight. The beam cuts a narrow path through the dark. He doesn’t rush.
That feels deliberate. Like he knows if he moves too fast, I’ll shatter.
I keep expecting Julian to appear behind me.
I anticipate the sound of his boots, the heat of his breath, the comfort of his hand closing around my wrist, steady and unyielding. I want him to tell me to stop, to wait, to not leave him.
But of course that doesn’t happen. I’m foolish for wanting the opposite of what he told me repeatedly would happen. That we would part and never see each other again.
I thought I’d made my peace with it, but the way he reacted when he found out we were married hurt. The way he recoiled at the news of being legally bound to me.
“Careful,” Lucien says softly, interrupting my gloomy thoughts. “The floor dips here.”
“I’m fine,” I reply, out of reflex more than truth.
We continue to walk through the cold tunnels, and now I welcome the chill. It numbs me.
The tunnel slopes downward and then flattens out.
I hug my arms around my ribs because my body feels wrong. It’s heavy and doesn’t feel like part of me any longer. It’s as if I’m watching myself from a few steps back, observing a woman who looks like me walking away from a man who never said goodbye.
No, not just a man. Her husband.
The word presses into my skull, sharp and surreal. I don’t know how to process this information.
Lucien slows and stops near a steel ladder bolted into the rock.
“This is it,” he says. “The pad is above.”
I nod, but don’t climb up.
Lucien waits.
“Why did you make us sign those papers? You knew he’d be angry.”
He shrugs. “It wasn’t about you or him. I have to protect the land. It belongs to the San Isidro people and I can’t risk the government, no matter who’s in charge, getting control over it.”
I nod. “He didn’t say good bye. He was so angry.”
The flashlight dips, casting Lucien’s face in shadow. “He was angry with himself, and if it’s any consolation,” he says gently, “Julian is terrible at goodbyes.”
A broken sound escapes me. “That’s not a consolation.”
“No,” he agrees. “I expect it isn’t.”
I reach for the lowest rung and start climbing. Lucien follows behind me. The ladder rattles softly beneath our weight. My hands shake as I grip the metal bars, one after the other. Halfway up, my arms burn and my breath comes too fast. I have to pause.
Lucien steadies me with a hand on my lower back, solid and patient.
When we finally emerge into the open again, the night air hits me all at once. It’s warm, humid, and feels like a living thing.
We’re in a small clearing, far enough from the house that I can’t see it. A helicopter waits, rotors already spinning. Its lights are harsh and bright against the dark. Wind whips my hair around my face and stings my eyes.
Lucien steps aside. “This is where I leave you,” he says.
I stop short. I knew he would stay behind, but my chest tightens again. It’s another slight loss, stacked on top of too many already.
He watches me for a moment, then adds, “You’ll be safe from here.”
The word feels thin.
I hesitate, then ask the question I’ve been carrying like a stone in my chest. “Will he be okay?”
Lucien exhales slowly. “Julian survives,” he says. “That doesn’t mean he emerges intact.”
I nod, even though my vision blurs.
“Take care of yourself, Iris,” he adds. “You were never meant for our world. For his world.”
I think of Julian’s hands on my skin. His voice in the dark, thick with desire. The way he looked at me, like I was something dangerous and precious all at once. “And yet a part of me stays behind in your world,” I say, “with him.”
Lucien steps back, and I climb into the helicopter alone.
The door shuts with a heavy clang, sealing me inside. As the engine roars louder, its vibrations shudder through my bones.
The helicopter lifts and I press my forehead to the glass.
The jungle pulls away beneath me, endless and dark. Somewhere in that green-black expanse is the villa. Somewhere inside it is Julian, hating being legally bound to me.
The thought fractures something inside me, and a sharp pain stabs my chest as San Isidro disappears below me.
Less than two hours later, the mainland’s many lights appear below us and we soon land on the outskirts of an airfield.
I’m moved efficiently by people who move like military but don’t wear any uniforms. They’re clad entirely in black as the shuttle me out of the helicopter and into a waiting SUV with dark windows. After a short drive, I’m escorted onto a small private jet with its stairs already lowered.
No one asks me questions. No one explains anything.
They just gently guide me and I allow them to move me around like a doll.
The plane takes off, and I sleep in broken fragments. Every time I close my eyes, I see Julian’s face tight with anger as he looked at me after we found out about the marriage.
By the time we land, I’m numb and empty.
April is waiting on the tarmac.
The second I see her, my composure collapses.
She runs toward me and pulls me into her arms, fierce and tight, like she’s afraid I might disappear again. I cling to her, fingers digging into her jacket.
“Iris,” she whispers. “I was so worried. Never do that again.” She pulls away and frowns at me. “Promise me.”
I laugh through my tears and the snot running from my nose. “I promise to not get caught in a coup again,” I say, wiping my face with my shirtsleeve.
Jay walks up and places a hand on her back. His eyes are sharp and protective as they constantly scan our surroundings. Just like Julian used to do.
“You’re home,” April says, hugging me tight again. “You’re safe.”
I nod. Safe.
The word still doesn’t fit.
She doesn’t ask questions. She just takes my hand and starts talking softly, grounding me with the sound of her voice. Jay flanks my other side, a silent wall.
We climb into the car. April and I are in the back as Jay drives us.
April holds my hand. “Iris,” she whispers, “are you okay?”
I look at my best friend and my chest caves in. A small, broken sound leaves my chest. “No,” I whisper.
She pulls me back into her arms without hesitation, stroking my hair as I cry again. I sob out my pain, my frustration, my anger over leaving my heart in San Isidro.
With an idiot man who doesn’t even know he has it.
An idiot man who’s my husband.