5. Danil
Chapter 5
Danil
T he sounds of my son having his fingers destroyed one by one fills the room we’re in. The loud, horrific pops mix with his screams of pain. I taste bile at the back of my throat and force myself to watch every second of the video that was just sent to me. It’s the least I can do for him. I couldn’t save him from this. I failed him in the most important way. I’m his father, and it’s my responsibility to keep him safe. I don’t care that he’s twenty-one and a grown man. There’s no time limit on a feeling that strong. I felt it as soon as Simona pushed him into this world and the doctor put him in my arms—this beautiful, vulnerable boy—a precious gift that I’m in charge of safekeeping, and I’ve failed.
“That’s Miguel,” Val says, pointing at the fucker who’s worked his way through four fingers of my son’s hand, and when we hear someone off screen yell something in Spanish, Val adds, “That sounded like Mateo, Lorenzo’s son. He’s the only one who would’ve stopped it.”
Val’s face is as pale as mine must be and guilt hangs on every part of him so strongly that I swear I can feel it. He still blames himself for the fact that he’s here and Max isn’t, but he’s the only one who does. Val was half-dead when he was forced away from Max. He would’ve stayed with my son if given the chance, and he would’ve died next to him. I hold no anger against my nephew.
I reach out and squeeze his shoulder while his dad looks over at me. Vitaly’s eyes also hold guilt. My brother’s usual carefree I can turn anything into a joke attitude has dimmed since our boys were taken, and I hate it. He can be a giant pain in the ass, and more often than not I want to punch the fucker for some of his smartass comments, but the truth is I’d give anything to turn back the clock just so I could laugh at one of his ridiculous jokes.
“Stop looking so guilty,” I tell the two of them. “This isn’t your fault.”
They both nod, but I can tell by their faces that my words have done little to lift the heavy weight from their shoulders.
“We’ll be killing them very soon,” Lev says, walking over to stand beside me. Matvey nods his head in agreement while Roman does the same and then holds up his phone, letting me see the plane that’s being tracked on the screen.
“They’ll be here tomorrow morning,” he says, “and then we’re going to Colombia and getting Max back.”
The Medvedev Bratva is flying in to join forces with us. Vasily Medvedev’s daughter is being held with my son. We’ve never united with another Bratva, but we need all the help we can get. We’re going up against one of the biggest cartels in operation right now, and we can’t show up in their territory with anything less than a small army. We need to annihilate them, and we have a better chance of doing that with the Medvedev family at our side.
Luka and Damien, Roman’s sons, are going over the map we have spread out with Sasha, Lev’s son. My nephews stay focused on what’s about to happen, even though I can tell the video we just watched is still haunting them. The look in Sasha’s eyes is even more dead than usual. I’m sure he’s still looking forward to the bloodbath he’s about to be swimming in, but seeing his cousin being tortured isn’t sitting well with him. I know him well enough to know that it’s not because the visuals were particularly upsetting. My nephew excels at torture, but he doesn’t like seeing his cousin on the receiving end of it. If Lorenzo Amaya hadn’t taken my son, I might feel sorry for what’s about to happen to him. As it is, I hope the fucker dies an excruciatingly slow death and then spends whatever afterlife there is in a burning pit with a pitchfork shoved up his ass.
I scrub a hand over my face, wishing I could force the video I just saw out of my mind. My eyes feel like I’ve rubbed sandpaper on them, and I’m so tired I can barely think. My body is giving out from pure exhaustion, but my brain refuses to be quiet. A rage unlike anything I’ve ever known settles in my chest and refuses to let go. All I see are the images of my son’s ruined hand, and all I hear are his screams of agony and the sharp pops of his fingers being wrenched cruelly out of alignment.
I’m going to fucking kill them, every goddamn one of them.
“You need to sleep.”
I turn my head at the sound of Matvey’s gravelly voice.
“I can’t,” I tell him.
He nods, understanding filling his dark eyes. When his wife was kidnapped, he barely slept for the two years it took us to find her. He’s very familiar with the hell I’m living in, so he doesn’t waste his time arguing with me about sleep or food or all the other shit I need to be doing so I can function as a human being. Instead, the man who used to be unable to tolerate touch, gives me a hug and cups the back of my head.
“We’re getting him back tomorrow, brother,” he tells me “You just need to survive one more fucking day.”
I nod and hug him back, refusing to give in and crumple to the floor. My wife and youngest son are counting on me, and Max is counting on me to keep my shit together long enough to rescue him. I refuse to let them down more than I already have. I can fall apart after he’s safe. For now, I grit my teeth and hug my brother back before pulling away and making my way to the door.
“I need to get back to Simona,” I tell them. Thoughts of my wife nearly break my heart in two, and I force myself to leave the office building we’ve been using as our meeting place since the boys were first taken. None of us want our wives seeing what’s really happening. It’s pure luck that Niki isn’t here right now. I’d forced him to leave several hours ago and told him he wasn’t allowed to come back until he’d eaten and slept for at least eight hours. He’d obeyed, but he hadn’t wanted to. I never want him to see the video we just saw. He’s seen enough over his seventeen years thanks to his ability to gain access to even the remotest, most locked-up places on the internet. He doesn’t need to add to it.
“We’ll see you in the morning. I’ll send Lorenzo the message we agreed on,” Roman says, giving my shoulder a squeeze when I walk past to shove my laptop into the worn leather messenger bag I’ve been using since I was a teenager.
“I’ll be there,” I tell him, already counting down the hours until the plane lands and we’re able to join forces with the Medvedev brothers. My brothers and I are meeting at Roman’s and driving to the private airfield together before bringing them back to his house. All our wives will be staying with Simona at Roman’s house while we’re gone. I don’t want her to be alone, and it’ll make it easier for the men we leave behind to guard them.
On the drive back to my apartment, I try to calm my mind by counting the cars around me. Counting has always kept my overactive brain in check, but tonight nothing is helping. Every few seconds, my thoughts are pulled back to the video I saw as my son’s screams ring in my ears. By the time I turn into the underground garage and pull into my reserved spot, I’m so angry I’m shaking. Fisting the steering wheel, I force myself to take a few calming breaths, knowing I can’t go up there looking like this. My wife will immediately know something new has happened. I’ve never lied to her before, but I’ve hidden the photos that Lorenzo has sent me, and I’ll never allow her to see the video of our son. It would kill her, and I refuse to allow her to be hurt like that. Her imagination is already making her every waking minute a nightmare. She doesn’t need to know that it’s far worse than she’s imagined.
When I’m ready, I step into the private elevator and push the button for the penthouse. I’m hoping she’s asleep because she’s just as exhausted as I am, but I’m not at all surprised to find her up and waiting for me. Her blue eyes are bloodshot and watery, and seeing how much pain she’s in guts me to my core. For everything I’m feeling, she’s feeling it double. The baby who grew inside her, the one she pushed into this world, has been cruelly taken from her. I love my son immensely and unconditionally, but it’s not the same thing as a mother’s bond. How can it be? I never felt him move inside me, never held him to my chest and fed him from my own body. The connection I have with my son is strong, but the one he holds with his mom is stronger, and she’s feeling that severed connection in her soul. Every day without our son is slowly killing her. She’s so fucking strong, though. I wish she could see herself how I see her. She fears she’s falling apart, but all I see is strength when I look at her.
“ Sladkaya ,” I say, dropping my bag and pulling her into my arms as soon as she’s close enough. Her small body sinks into mine, and I hate how much weight she’s lost. “Baby, have you eaten anything today?”
Instead of answering, she whispers, “Have you?”
I kiss her head and tighten my hold on her. “That’s not an answer and you know it.”
She knows me well enough to know I’m not going to let this go, so she huffs out a breath and finally shakes her head no.
“Unacceptable,” I whisper against her skin and before she can argue, I pick her up, cradling her body against mine as I carry her into the kitchen and put her ass on the counter.
“I’m not hungry,” she starts to argue, but I just put a finger over her beautiful mouth and say, “Neither am I, but we’re both going to force ourselves to eat because Max would want us to.”
At the mention of our son’s name, the tears that have been threatening to fall spill over and run down her cheeks. I cup her face and step between her thighs, resting my forehead on hers. “I’m getting him back,” I promise her. “We’re leaving tomorrow, and I’m going to get our son. I promise I’ll bring him home to you.”
“I know you will.” Her words are nothing but a shaky whisper against my lips, but I hear the truth in them. I failed to keep our son safe, but she’s never once blamed me, and even now, I hear the faith she has in me.
“I don’t deserve you,” I whisper back. “I never have, but especially not now.”
Her blue eyes find mine as she brings her hands up to cup my face, running her thumbs through the light beard I’ve grown because I haven’t taken the time to shave. “This is not your fault,” she tells me like she has every day since our son was taken. “I won’t let you carry this burden, Danechka.”
Despite everything, the corner of my mouth still lifts up when she uses the Russian diminutive for my name. She’s the only one to ever call me that, and I love the intimacy of it. From the first moment I saw this woman, she’s owned every part of me. She was terrified, the victim of sex traffickers and about to be sold to the highest bidder, and I knew I’d pay anything and do anything to protect her. There was no way I was going to walk out of that building without her by my side, so I did the only thing I could do. I bought her, fell absolutely in love with her, and told her I couldn’t live without her. We’ve been together ever since, and I can’t imagine my life without her.
I close my eyes and lean into her touch, allowing myself this moment of comfort, even though I know I don’t deserve it. She’s the only person on earth who could make me feel a second of peace right now, and I’m not surprised to feel a calmness wash over me at her touch. I feel like a jackass taking comfort from her when she’s hurting so badly herself, but, fuck, I’m desperate for it, for just a few precious seconds of not feeling like my heart is being ripped from my chest.
“You are the only thing that’s keeping me together,” I tell her. Placing my hand on top of hers, I keep her palm against my cheek before kissing it.
She cups the back of my head with her other hand and pulls me closer, resting her head against my shoulder. “We’re going to get through this,” she whispers. “Our family is strong, Danechka, and we’re not going to let anyone break us.”
“We’re not,” I agree, squeezing her tighter against me. “We’re getting our son back, and then we’re locking the two of them up in here with us and we’re never letting them out of our sight.”
She lets out a small huff of air, part laugh, part exhalation, and says, “They might not be onboard with that, but I think it sounds like a solid plan.”
Before I force myself to pull away so I can make her something to eat, I hold her for a few more seconds, breathing her in and feeling the steady beat of her heart against my chest.
“I’m going to make us some food, sladkaya , and you’re going to eat every bite of it, okay?”
She looks up at me and says, “Only if you do the same.”
If things were different, I’d be hauling her cute ass into our soundproofed room, strapping her to her piano and giving her ass a good smack for her sassy mouth and refusal to eat, but neither one of us has the heart for it right now. This is the longest we’ve ever gone without sex, and the separation is taking its toll on both of us, but we both feel too guilty to do anything about it. I want to lose myself inside her, but how can I allow myself such pleasure when I know what my son is going through right at this very moment? It’s impossible, and I know she feels the same way, even if she doesn’t have all the information I have.
Lightly pinching her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I kiss her and whisper against her lips, “You and I have a lot to make up for as soon as we get Max back.”
“We do,” she agrees. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to?—”
I cut her off with another quick kiss. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Our hearts are breaking and we’re both worried sick. The only thing that I wouldn’t be able to tolerate is you pulling away from me. I miss being inside you, I miss the connection, but neither one of us is in the right headspace for that.”
“I can’t stop thinking about what might be happening to him,” she whispers on a shaky breath.
“I know, but Val said he was doing okay. Focus on that. Try not to let your imagination torment you.”
She nods and closes her eyes when I cup her face and kiss her forehead.
“Okay, baby, time to eat, and then we can get some sleep. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.”
She gives me a small smile, and I can see the war going on behind her eyes. She’s terrified and hopeful about what tomorrow will bring, but also scared to death that something might go wrong. I’d give anything to take this from her, but the only thing I can do is try to make it right again and give her back her firstborn son. Every worry she has about tomorrow is one that I’ve already thought of a million times over. I’m leaving in less than twenty-four hours, and I’m either coming back with our son, or I’m not coming back at all. Knowing our time might be very limited, I blink back the tears that want to fall and kiss her head once more before forcing myself to turn away and put my focus on getting her a meal. I need to busy myself with something, or I’ll lose the last small grip on sanity that I have.
Opening the fridge, I spot the casserole that Emily brought over this morning. My sisters-in-law have been taking turns dropping us off meals, and I’m not sure what we’d do without them. We’re all feeling the loss of Max. There’s a giant hole in this family without him, and there’s no ignoring it, no healing from it, and no getting past it. This family doesn’t work when one of us is missing.
Simona busies herself with making a salad, too antsy and nervous to just sit still. She tells me about how Niki came home earlier and she forced him to eat and then go to bed. He’s been out for hours, and we’re both hoping he’ll sleep through the night. We’re both worried about the weight he’s lost and the constant dark circles under his eyes. Our youngest is fading away before our eyes and nothing but the return of his older brother is going to make it better.
When the casserole is warmed up, Simona and I sit together at the kitchen island. We’re quiet as we force the food down, each bite mechanical and purely done to keep our bodies alive and functioning. I don’t taste a single bite, and when Simona sets her fork down after eating less than half of it, I use my foot to turn her barstool towards me.
“That’s not good enough, sladkaya .”
“I’m not hungry. I can’t force any more down.”
“It’s not enough,” I gently tell her, taking her fork and filling it with the chicken and rice mix. I bring it to her lips and wait for her to open her mouth. “For me, sladkaya , just a few more bites for me.”
She doesn’t want it, I know she doesn’t want it, but she also knows I’m right and that she needs it. When she opens her mouth and takes the bite I’m offering, I let out a relieved sigh and kiss her cheek before filling the fork again. When I try to raise it back up, she shakes her head at me.
“For every bite I take, you have to take one, too.”
I smile at her tone and do as she says. I keep feeding the two of us until she’s managed to eat a little more than half her plate, and then I scoot it away, knowing that’s as much as she can handle.
Putting the rest back in the fridge for Niki, I grab her hand and lead her to our bedroom. She’s exhausted, already looking half-asleep as she grabs a pair of pajamas. I change into sweats and a T-shirt, and before she goes into the bathroom, I tell her I’m going to check on Niki.
Fatigue hits me hard as I walk to the other side of the penthouse, making me feel twenty years older than I am. Being careful to not wake our youngest, I quietly crack the door open, wanting to take a quick peek inside. I’m expecting a dark room and a son who’s asleep, and instead I get a fully lit room and my youngest with his head buried in his laptop.
“Niki,” I start to say, wondering if I’m going to have to give him something to help him sleep, but then he turns to look at me and all the air goes out of my lungs. His grey eyes are bloodshot, and it’s obvious he’s been crying. “Fuck,” I whisper, walking to sit on the edge of his bed. Resting my hand on the back of his neck, I ask the question that I already know the answer to. “You saw the video?”
He nods but doesn’t say anything.
“I didn’t want you to see that.”
His voice is quiet, and he sounds broken when he says, “You should know by now that you can’t keep secrets from me, Dad.”
That earns him a scowl from me, but we both know he’s right. As good as I am with computers, my son is better. Max took to the piano like his mom, and Niki is even better with computers than I am. I’ve never seen anything like it. His mind is brilliant and terrifying all at the same time. He could literally take down huge companies in an afternoon or plant enough evidence to destroy anyone on the planet. No one is untouchable to him, and I’m thrilled he’s in our family and not against it. He’d make one hell of an enemy, and I’m curious to see what he does with his gift when he officially joins the Bratva.
Right now, though, he’s just my youngest son, heartbroken over the video of his brother he’s just seen. I wrap my arm around him and pull him closer. He allows himself the comfort of a hug for just a couple of seconds before he straightens up and grabs his laptop.
“Here,” he says, turning the screen so I can see it.
My throat tightens when I see what he’s been busy doing. I scroll through the list of orthopedic surgeons he’s made.
“The first one on the list is the best orthopedic surgeon in the state, and he specializes in hands. Right next door to his office is a rehabilitation center. After Max has surgery, they’ll be able to help him get his dexterity back. I was reading about how hands can heal after dislocations, even well enough for musicians to keep playing after injuries. There are even a few pianists who manage to play with missing fingers.” His voice breaks on the last few words, and after he takes a breath, he adds, “Max is good enough to recover from this. He has enough talent to overcome the injuries.”
I pull him close again and kiss the top of his head. “You’re a good brother, Niki.”
“I’m going with you tomorrow.”
“You are not,” I tell him.
He pulls back and gives me a look that makes me forget he’s only seventeen. It’s weary and full of sorrow, but beneath that is a rock-solid determination that has me quickly shaking my head again. “It’s too dangerous,” I tell him.
“You won’t be able to pull it off without me,” he says. “You won’t be able to handle all the behind-the-scenes shit and go in and get Max. You’re going to need me to dismantle their security system, hack into the communication channels and scramble them, and alert you if the cartel tries to bring in reinforcements. I’m going, Dad. With me there you stand a better chance of pulling this off. You and I both know it.”
I want to argue. I want to insist that he’s wrong and that the best thing is for him to stay here with his mom so he’s guarded and safe, but I can’t lie to him. He already knows the truth anyway. We need him, and, yeah, we might be able to pull it off without him, but it might also mean losing more men, and I can’t take that risk. Max will never forgive himself if one of his cousins or uncles dies trying to rescue him.
“Fine,” I say, and then add, “but you’re staying on the boat and I’m leaving several men with you.”
He nods his agreement, knowing there’s no point in arguing for more. I understand his need to be there, and I’d be doing the same thing if I were him. I’m just about to insist that he get some sleep when I hear a gut-wrenching wail of a scream that instantly stops my heart and makes my stomach drop. I’m out the door in seconds, running down the hall with Niki right on my heels. Simona lets out another moan, and when I hit our bedroom and see her curled on the floor with my phone gripped in her hand, our son’s face on the screen, mouth open in an agonizing scream as another one of his fingers is pulled from its joint, I fall to my knees and wrap my arms around her shaking body.
Niki quickly grabs the phone and shuts it off, but I swear I still hear Max’s screams mixing with my wife’s sobs. Her pain becomes my pain, and I feel it radiating through every cell in my body. The guttural, primal moans coming from her are beyond words—it’s just pure agony, a mother’s heart being ripped from her chest at the sight of her child being hurt. The sound of it is so intense that tears run down my own cheeks, my body unable to resist the pull of her pain.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her, repeating the words over and over again until her body goes slack in my arms, too exhausted to do anything but stare numbly at her now empty hand. Stroking her hair from her face, I tilt her head up, forcing her to meet my eyes, and the shattered look in hers has me letting out my own groan of pain. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper again. “I never wanted you to see that.”
Her words are nothing but a shaky whisper when she says, “You knew this whole time, didn’t you? You’ve been carrying this around this whole time?”
“The video was sent a few hours ago. I never wanted you or Niki to see it.” I pull her against my chest and kiss her head. “I knew you’d see the condition he was in when we got him home, but I knew it would be easier for you to handle when you had him alive and in front of you.”
She turns her head to where our youngest is sitting on the floor. With another sob, she reaches a hand out to him, pulling him in to join our hug.
“You saw it, too?” she asks him.
“Yeah. Dad tried to hide it from me, but I found it on my own like you did,” he admits. I’m so proud of him when he immediately tries to comfort her by adding, “I found the best orthopedic surgeon in the state, Mom, and as soon as Max is back, we’ll make sure he’s the one who treats him. He’s going to be okay. I know it doesn’t look like it, but he will be.”
“His hands,” she whispers. “They weren’t trying to kill his body. They were trying to kill his soul.”
“And we will ruin them for it,” I tell her. “Max is strong. It’s not going to be easy, but he will get through this, and we’ll be there to help him every step of the way.”
“You know how stubborn he can be, Mom,” Niki adds, trying to make her smile. “Remember all the times he’d sneak out of bed so he could practice some tune on the piano? It used to drive me crazy.”
She gives a ghost of a smile at whichever memory just popped into her head. The one that hits me strongest is when he was five. He’d snuck out of bed, and the soft sound of notes being played had pulled me from sleep. I’d found him in his pajamas, little slippered feet way too short to reach the pedals, and a look of absolute concentration on his cute face. He hadn’t woken up because he had a crazy urge to play “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” or any of the other easier songs you’d expect a kid to want to play. No, our son had been trying his damndest to nail what Simona later informed me was Chopin’s Nocturne Opus 9, number 2 . I already knew he was gifted, but in that moment I realized just how exceptional of a pianist he was going to be. It’s one of my favorite memories of him.
“Nothing has been done that can’t be fixed,” I remind her.
“Maybe,” she whispers.
I know what she’s thinking, so I quickly cut off her thoughts with a sharp, “No, sladkaya . He is alive, and we can fix his hand.”
“How do you know that?”
I cup her face and force her to meet my eyes, and as much as it kills me to say it, I tell her the truth. “Because if he wasn’t, Lorenzo would’ve already sent me a video of it. This was a threat, and he’s going to give us time to respond. He wants us to give in to his demands. Roman sent him a message, telling him he’d have his answer in less than forty-eight hours. Look at me, baby,” I say when she starts to close her eyes as more tears fall. When they open, I stare into my wife’s beautiful blue eyes and make a promise that I will give my life to keep. “In forty-eight hours, the Amaya Cartel won’t exist and our son will be home.”
She clings to me just like she holds tight to my words, and I don’t allow myself to think about what will happen to her if we aren’t successful. She’ll always be taken care of financially, but I know my wife well enough to know she doesn’t give a fuck about money. Family is everything to her, and losing us will kill her.
“I believe you.” She whispers the words that both soothe my heart and break it. Her unwavering trust in me is everything. I can only hope it isn’t misplaced. “I know you’ll bring him home.”
She pulls Niki in closer and kisses his cheek. We share a look when she gives him a hug, both of us knowing she’s going to fight against what I’m about to tell her.
“ Sladkaya ,” I start to say, and whatever she hears in my voice has her gripping our son tighter.
Before I can finish my sentence, she says, “You’re taking Niki with you, aren’t you?”
I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s already two steps ahead of me, but I am. I can’t help it. I never underestimate her intelligence, but it still knocks me on my ass sometimes. I scrub a hand over my jaw and say, “Yes. We need him if this is going to work. He’ll stay on the boat, and I’ll keep several men back to watch over him.”
She squeezes Niki tighter and bites back the sob she wants to give. “You don’t have to go,” she tells him. “You know that, right? Your dad and I would never blame you for not wanting to go.”
Niki looks appalled at the idea, but Simona doesn’t see it because she’s still hugging him like she’ll never be able to let go.
“Mom, I’m going. Max would do the same for me. I’m not leaving him there with those men, not when I can help get him out.”
She lets out a tired sigh and pulls back so she can cup his cheek. “I knew you’d say that, but I had to try.”
“I’ll be okay, Mom,” he tries to tell her, but we both know she’ll be worried sick until the plane lands and she sees all three of us with her own eyes.
She finally lets him go, but it’s just so she can clasp both our hands tightly in hers. She looks between us, and my heart breaks at seeing the pain she’s in. She’s terrified, but she’s being so fucking brave and strong for us. I’ve never been more proud of her than in this moment. She thinks I’m the brave one, but she’s the real strength in this family, the one who keeps us all held together.
“You two will be fine,” she says, forcing a certainty into her words and willing us all to believe it. “You’ll be safe, and you’re going to bring Max back home where he belongs. This family doesn’t work unless we’re all together, and that means you both better get your asses home safe to me along with Max’s.”
“We will, Mom,” Niki promises her while I meet her eyes and nod.
She kisses his head once more and says, “You need to at least try and sleep. I can’t let you go with them if you’re too tired to do all your brilliant computer magic.”
He gives a small smile at her words. Niki and I have never been able to understand the musical genius side of our family, just like they can’t understand the tech side of things. Both our sons are talented, just in very different ways.
He promises her that he’ll try and sleep and then gives us both a hug before leaving to go back to his room. I watch him leave, wishing he could stay here tomorrow but knowing it’s impossible.
“I promise I won’t let anything happen to him,” I tell Simona and then pick her up and carry her to bed.
“I know you won’t.”
Wrapping my body around hers, I spoon her from behind and press my hand to her chest, needing to feel the beat of her heart against my skin. It’s the only way I can fall asleep. She anchors me and quiets my mind. She’s the only one who’s ever been able to.
“This ends tomorrow, sladkaya .”
She snuggles into me and nods her head. Even though she’s still worried, her body is exhausted to the breaking point, and no matter how much she’s fighting it, soon her breathing slows down and I know she’s fallen asleep. I hold her for several more hours, going over every detail of tomorrow’s plan. We have one chance to do this, and my son’s life is riding on us not fucking it up. The pressure is immense, and the steady beat of my wife’s heart is the only thing keeping me sane.
I will find our son and bring him home or die trying. Holding Simona tighter, I bury my nose against her neck while I count the beats of her heart, letting her presence consume me and chase away the demons. The thought of not coming back to her is too painful to think about.
Failure isn’t an option.
When I leave Colombia, both my boys will be alive and by my side. I won’t allow for any other outcome.