Prologue

Twenty-three years earlier

What’s happening?

Men were dressed in black and carried big guns. Her papa ’s men—well, they were on the ground, blood coming out of them.

Fear consumed every inch of Cassandra Ramirez’s body. Her skin crawled with it. People were yelling in a language she’d maybe heard before—perhaps English—but didn’t understand.

She should run, but her feet were frozen.

Help. I need help.

The thought was enough to spur her into action. To free her from the trance she’d fallen into when the car she’d been traveling in had stopped violently and Carlos had yanked her out.

The man who listened to her papa and took her to school and brought her home was scared.

That scared Cassandra.

She opened her mouth to scream. People would come for her. They knew who she was. Who her papa was. She’d been with him when he’d visited people. They were always nice.

They’d be nice to her and take her from these men all in black.

A large hand clamped over her mouth before a sound came out.

Cassandra was hauled off her feet. She thrashed and kicked but didn’t hit anything.

The man holding her yelled something.

She squirmed but he held her tighter. So hard it hurt.

More shots sounded and she was put into another car. This one smelled different. It didn’t smell like Carlos’ always did, just like this man didn’t.

The man holding her put a hood over her head and she screamed again, afraid of the dark.

“ Guarda silencio! ”

Spanish.

Too afraid not to obey, Cassandra went quiet, biting her lip to stop her crying out again, as well as holding back the sobs. “Papa,” she whispered, the tiny sound breaking.

Cassandra was back in the car with the hood over her head. She didn’t know how long she’d been in the other place.

The place that had the soft bed but scratchy blankets. The place with no windows. The place where the food tasted funny, and so did the water.

Why hadn’t her papa come for her?

He’d told her he would keep her safe. That he loved her. He hadn’t come. He’d left her with the people who spoke funny, and when they spoke to her in a language she understood, it sounded weird. Not like how Papa or Carlos or even Evita, their cook, did.

She wanted to go home. Wanted her toys. Wanted her bed. Most of all she wanted her papa . He always hugged and kissed her. Told her he loved her and that she was the most precious thing in his life.

Suddenly the car stopped, and fear held her captive .

Was it happening again?

Like it had the other time.

Cassandra whimpered when she heard the first gunshot.

Then shouts. Lots of shouting.

Fuck!

She knew that word . Daddy used it before. She didn’t know what it meant, but understood it was bad because sometimes he pounded his fist on the table when he said it.

Suddenly, Cassandra was yanked out of the car—the hood flying off her head—and into the arms of the man who’d held her tight that first time. She recognized his smell.

He raced through the streets. Dodging in and out of lanes and alleys she didn’t recognize.

The man was speaking as he ran, but it was so fast and in that language that had been around her while she’d been in that awful place.

She wanted to know what he was saying.

Where were the men who were shooting? Were they Papa’s men?

If they were, why didn’t they have her?

Why was this man running with her?

Suddenly, they were in an open field. The man changed his grip on her, propping her on his hip, like Papa had always held her. Immediately, she put his arms around his neck.

He smiled, a nice smile.

The sky filled with noise that got louder and louder. A helicopter.

Cassandra jerked her gaze to the sky, holding on tighter to the man. Her papa had a helicopter. She’d gone up in it, and it was fun.

Papa was coming to get her. This man was giving her back to her papa .

Something was wrong. The helicopter was black and big and nothing like her papa’s .

The man carried her over.

Something told her if she didn’t get away, she’d never see anyone she knew again.

Cassandra squirmed and pushed at the man, but all he did was tighten his hold.

He got her into the helicopter and put the seatbelt on.

She met his gaze.

“ Lo siento ,” he said before he put headphones over her ears.

I’m sorry.