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Her chin quivered.
“He told you being your father was the greatest honor of his life. He got to tell you the truth before he died, and he heard you call him Papá. He left this world knowing that he was loved by his daughter.”
The first sob tore out of her before she could stop it.
I opened my arms, and Isabella came into them without hesitation. She pressed her face against my chest while I held her, one hand around the back of her head and the other spread over her spine.
“I should have known,” she cried. “I should have understood why he was always there.”
“How could you? Telling you would have gotten all three of you killed.”
“I loved him.”
“He knew.”
Her hands tightened against my sides.
“He didn’t have to die wondering what would happen to you. He heard me promise I’d keep you safe, and I will.”
“Everyone who protects me dies.”
“I’m hard to kill.”
A broken little laugh escaped through her tears.
“And I come with considerable backup,” I added. “And this time you’ve got The Syndicate behind you.”
She stayed against me until the worst of the crying passed. I didn’t rush her. There was no fixing the loss, and I wasn’t going to pretend a few sentences could.
Eventually, she lifted her head.
“Can you really get me out of El Salvador?”
“Yes.”
The answer came easily, but getting us to that point was another matter.
“We still have to make it down this mountain, find a way to contact my men, and avoid everyone Marcela sends after us. I’m not pretending tonight is safe. But my people are already in this country, and once I reach Nik, borders stop being much of a problem.”
“What happens after that?”
“You come with me.”
“To Manhattan?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“And if it isn’t?”
I disliked the question immediately. I didn’t like imagining her anywhere out of my reach.
“Then you choose somewhere else.”
“Just like that?”
“No part of this will be just like that. But the choice will be yours.”
She hesitated. “Will I have to live in hiding?”
