Page 48 of Forbidden Fate

Zabala smiles and continues the other way. “Sleep well, Robin.”

I swallow but I don’t look back.

I won’t.

Cruz keeps walking.

Not fast at first. He continues like nothing is wrong. Like we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be, doing exactly what we’re supposed to do.

Only when we turn the next corner does his pace change.

He stops in a shadow.

I drag air into my lungs.

I don’t throw up.

Small victory.

Cruz lets go of my other hand. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?” I ask, though my voice barely works.

“For not beating him into a goddamned pulp.”

A laugh breaks out of me. Sort of. “That would’ve been bad?”

“It would’ve made this harder.”

I nod. I know he’s right. We have to play along. That’s how we stay alive.

“I get it,” I say, though secretly I wish he’d pounded the life out of that creep.

Cruz reaches for my hand.

20

CRUZ

We make it out through a service door that was never meant to be an exit.

Not for prisoners.

Not for men like me, either.

The hinges groan when I force it open, and for a second, I expect shouts. Boots. Guns raised. Zabala’s voice.

But only the darkness of night greets us.

Robin inhales sharply beside me.

“Move,” I whisper as I take her hand and pull her into the dark.

The ground outside the prison is uneven. Robin stumbles once, and I catch her before she goes down. She’s barefoot. I should have found her shoes. I should have found her something warmer. I should have found a hundred things before I dragged her through those corridors.

But a clean escape doesn’t exist.

Not from Diego Vega.