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And telling him the truth set me free.

Adrenaline and fear mingle in my veins, an intoxicating brew I haven’t felt in a long time.

I have to get out of here.

The thought thuds into me with an urgency that takes my breath away. Seeing Rodrigo has brought something inside me back to life. The savage part of me that I’ve been almost scared to feel since I woke up in that abandoned mining camp.

I stare at Rodrigo across the room, my heart tripping wildly.

He’s your chance, Abby, just like his father was back in Bogotá.

“Sold!” The auctioneer bangs his gavel, smiling at Rodrigo as the audience applauds. “I think we’ll take a break, ladies andgentlemen. Sir, if you’d follow me?” He gestures toward a side door.

Rodrigo gets to his feet and murmurs to one of the security guards, gesturing in my direction. The man nods and crosses the room to me.

“You.” He takes me by the arm, not gently. “Come with me.”

Here we go.I gulp the rest of my champagne.

“Abby?” Yrsa looks at me worriedly. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing important.” I force myself to smile at her. “Look after Mary, okay?”

I’m remarkably calm as the guard pushes me through the side door. My mind has slowed down, a thousand thoughts sifting through my head. Rodrigo Cardeñas will never know it, but he’s given me the one thing I’ve been missing all these months: hope.

I’ve been afraid of it because I know how fucking dangerous hope can be.

Instead, I’ve let myself stay stuck in regret. Trying to accept that there’s no way out, that nobody is coming for me.

And so what if nobody is coming for me?Hope rips through me, bringing strength with it.I’ve survived worse than this. I survived the fucking El Buen Pastor and lived to tell the tale. I will find a way out of this, too.

The door closes behind me, and Rodrigo turns around, his poisonous smile licking fear through me despite my newfound resolve.

“Abby Chalmers.” He pours himself a drink from the bar. His hands, as soft and finely polished as ever, make my skin crawl. “Tonight’s invitation promised me a special gift. I never imagined it would be you.” He raises his glass to me. “But I certainly plan to enjoy the moment. And several of my men are here with me.” He lights a cigar, holding my eyes. “I’ll let them fuck you when I’m done. They weren’t happy when you managed to escape in Bogotá.” He gestures around the roomwith a nasty smile. “Not that escaping worked out too well for you, it seems.”

Ignoring the threatening way he waves the cigar, I return his smile.

“I was sorry to hear about your father, Rodrigo.” I cross the floor and pour myself a drink, impressed when my hand doesn’t shake. “Juan was a good man.” I turn back to face him. “Even if he did fail to keep his promise to me.”

Rodrigo’s eyes narrow. “Don’t bother with the lies, Abby. We both know you never met my father.”

“I did, actually. In El Buen Pastor prison, back in Bogotá.” I sip my drink, almost enjoying the look of confusion on his face. “In fact, your father is the reason I escaped Bogotá in the first place. He wouldn’t be happy if he knew you were here, you know. Juan hated the man who runs this place.”

He stares at me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Take a seat, Rodrigo.” I walk over to one of the leather chairs and sit down, gesturing to the one opposite. “Before you let your men in to rape me, you might want to listen to what I have to say.”

El Buen Pastor Women’s Prison

Bogotá, Colombia

Six years ago

I wakeon the concrete prison floor to a hard nudge in the ribs from the woman next to me, trying not to disturb the other ten occupants of what is supposed to be a two-person cell. The woman elbows me again, nodding to where a guard is peering through the small barred window in the iron door.He pokes the muzzle of his gun through the bars and nods at me to get up.

I do, the other girls grumbling when I tread on them to get to the door. It isn’t like I have a choice. Every spare inch of the floor is taken up by sweating bodies.

During the daytime, we’re allowed out of the cells and can sit in the courtyard below. But the nights are a sweating, stinking mass of tightly packed flesh. I’d say the guard’s interruption is welcome, but I’m not stupid enough to think he comes with any kind of good news. Especially so late at night.