*** Mateo***
...April 2002...
Sofia sits quietly on the bed, wiggling her toes and refusing to look at me. She's still angry with me.
Several months ago, I pushed through the paperwork for asylum in the United States and just this morning, I received word that our family had been approved. Money moved mountains in Mexico and luckily for us, we had millions. The death of both of our parents sealed the deal, forensics proving that my mom and dad were killed by Los Zetas. Luckily my money helped convince immigration authorities that we were targets of the cartels. Sofia and the pups would be able to leave for the United States next week.
I climb into bed beside her and she rolls over on her side, her back facing me.
"Sofia," I sigh.
"We’re not going," She growls, but I can hear the
