Page 159 of Forbidden Fate

The driver speaks again, pointing toward the hills.

“Monserrate,” the ambassador says. “And Guadalupe. Two famous hills.”

The car moves steadily toward the airport.

I stare out the window and force myself to catalogue what I see.

Traffic.

Concrete.

Clouds touching mountain ridges.

A cyclist weaving between cars.

A mural painted on the side of a building.

A city I’ll never know. A country I will never return to.

But not one without beauty.

By the time we reach the airport, my eyes are dry again.

Or maybe just empty.

The ambassador escorts me through the process with a calm efficiency that makes everything feel strangely unreal. Private aviation removes so much of the chaos I expected. There are still people, checks, formalities, but Vinnie has clearly done what Vinnie does. He has minimized every obstacle between me and home.

The plane waits.

It’s small compared to a commercial jet, but impossibly sleek and private and safe-looking.

Safe.

The ambassador looks at me. “Are you all right?”

No.

“Yes.”

He nods. “Your family will meet you at the airport in Austin.”

I inhale.

Texas.

Home.

“Thank you,” I say. “For everything.”

“I’m very glad we could help.”

I board the plane.

A flight attendant greets me. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asks. “Coffee? Tea? Wine? Something stronger?”

Something stronger.

God, yes.