Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
GAbrIELLA
Consciousness returned in jagged, painful fragments.
First came the smell: a nauseating mix of gasoline, stale sweat, and the sharp metallic tang of dried blood. Then the vibration, a relentless rattle shuddering up through her spine.
She was lying on something hard and ridged. Metal floor. Every bump drove the grooves into her hip. She tried to move her hands, but they were pinned behind her back. Plastic bit deep into her skin.
Zip ties.
Picasso.
His name flashed through her mind like a flare, followed immediately by the memory of the boot to her ribs, the blow to the back of her head, the white van.
She forced her eyes open.
Darkness. Not complete. There were thin, stuttering ribbons of light cutting through the gloom every few seconds as they passed under streetlamps. The faint glow seeped in at the edges of the rear doors.
They were moving. Fast.
She shifted, and pain exploded in her skull. She groaned, but the sound died against the strip of duct tape sealing her mouth. Every breath tasted like glue and copper.
From the cab, men argued over the roar of the engine. Rapid-fire Spanish, hard, flat, and completely unintelligible. She strained to catch anything, a familiar word, a name, but it was just a wall of noise. The language barrier felt like another restraint: blind, bound, and deaf to their plans.
A small sound cut through the drone of tires.
A tiny, hitching, wet gasp.
Gabriella rolled onto one shoulder, ignoring the nausea, and drew her knees up awkwardly. Her leg bumped something soft.
“?A dónde vamos? ?Dónde está mi mamá?” a small voice whispered, shaking.
Ana.
The little girl was curled in the corner, her thin arms crushing a tattered doll against her chest. Her pink T-shirt once so bright back at the camp, was now streaked with dirt. Tears had carved clean tracks down her cheeks.
There were others.
Three more children were pressed together beside her, barely more than shadows. A boy who couldn’t be older than seven. Two younger girls clinging to each other so tightly they shook as one.
Gabriella’s heart clenched. She wanted to say It’s okay. I’ve got you. I won’t let them take you. But the tape held, and even if she could force words past it, English would mean nothing to them.
So she did the one thing she could.
She inched closer, the zip ties biting into her wrists, until her shoulder touched Ana’s. The girl flinched at the contact, breath stuttering, then went stock-still.
Gabriella shifted her head and caught Ana’s eyes in the low, flickering light. She forced calm into her gaze, pushing panic far beneath the surface. Then, with slow deliberation, she nodded once.
I see you.
She drew in a long breath through her nose, exaggerated it so the girl could hear. In… She held it a beat. Out… a slow, controlled exhale through her nose. Again. In. Out.
Then she tipped her chin toward Ana’s chest and repeated the breath.
Ana stared at her, confusion warring with terror. Her little shoulders trembled. Then, tentatively, she mimicked Gabriella: sniffing in, the inhale shaky, and blowing it out in a ragged exhale.
Gabriella nodded, bumping her temple gently against the girl’s. Good. That’s it.
The other children were watching now, their eyes wide, glistening pools in the dark. Gabriella shifted her focus, meeting each gaze in turn, giving them the same small nod.
We are together.
They inched closer, drawn like magnets to her solid warmth in the freezing metal box. Ana leaned her head cautiously against Gabriella’s shoulder. One of the younger girls pressed into her side, fingers bunching in Gabriella’s shirt.
Pain throbbed behind Gabriella’s eyes. She shut them briefly, resting her cheek on Ana’s tangled hair, and forced her own heart to slow. She counted silently with the rhythm of the road. One bump. Two. Three. Breathe.
She couldn’t promise safety. She couldn’t tell them the SEALs were coming, couldn’t describe satellite feeds or Tex or layered grids of search zones.
But she could be an anchor in the dark.
I’m still here, Picasso, she thought, projecting the words into the roar of the engine. I’ve got the kids.
Now come find us.