Gasping for breath, I move away from the Range Rover and run along the emergency lane. As the air whips my face, I dare to hope that I can leave this nightmare behind. Although I don't really believe it.. That insidious feeling that just a snap of the fingers could stain my hands with blood again won’t leave me.
"This time, the bullet to the head—you’ll get it for real."
Michael Cárdenas’s last words haunt me. I feel like he’s right behind me, and I know that if I ever cross his path again, he’ll keep that promise. And yet, I feel like I have to keep fighting!
Breath short, heart pounding, I slow down my run to climb over the guardrail. I’ll be less visible in the thickets. My sneakers crush dead branches that throw off my shaky balance. I trip multiple times and end up stretching my ar
