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Elena’s vision went white, then red, then crystallized into something cold and clear. She deleted the video with shaking hands and stared out the window, her teeth clenched.

“What did they send?” Brock asked.

“Proof they’re hurting her.” Her voice was steady despite the rage churning inside. “Proof we need to end this. Tonight.”

His hand found hers again, and they drove in silence, the jungle giving way to drier scrubland as they moved inland.

They stopped for gas around two, and Elena went inside for water. When she came back out, she saw the police car across the street, two officers watching them with more than casual interest.

“Police,” she said as she climbed back in.

Brock saw them in the mirror. “I know.”

They pulled back onto the highway, and the police car followed. Minutes ticked by, tension building in the silence. Then the lights came on.

Brock pulled over smoothly, his movements unhurried. “Passports ready. We’re tourists on vacation. Nothing more.”

Elena’s heart hammered as one officer approached the driver’s side while his partner stayed back by the patrol car, hand resting on his weapon. Both young, maybe mid-twenties, with a nervous energy that could turn dangerous fast.

Brock rolled down the window, his smile easy despite the tension Elena could feel radiating from him. “Good afternoon, Officer. Is there a problem?”

The officer’s eyes swept the interior of the SUV, cataloging everything. “Documentos, por favor. License and passport.”

Brock handed them over, his movements slow and visible. “Were we speeding? I thought we were doing the limit.”

“No speeding.” The officer studied the documents, comparing Brock’s face to the license photo. His free hand stayed near his sidearm. “Where are you going?”

“Xpujil. To see the ruins at Calakmul.” Brock gestured to Elena, his hand finding hers in a gesture that looked natural, loving. “My wife’s always wanted to see Mayan temples.”

The officer’s gaze shifted to Elena, and she felt him assessing her. Looking for…what? Signs of distress? Fear? She forced herself to smile, warm and genuine.

“You have identification?” he asked her in Spanish.

Her hands were steady as she handed over her passport, responding in the same language. “Of course, Officer.”

He examined the passport with excruciating care, his eyes moving between the photo and her face. Elena kept her breathing even, her expression pleasant. She was Julie Smith from Texas, tourist, nothing more.

“And you?” The officer looked to the back seat, where Nate and Eden sat.

“We’re traveling together,” Nate said, producing both passports. “Met at the resort, decided to make the trip as a group.”

The officer collected all four passports and walked back to his partner. They conferred in low voices, and then one of them picked up the radio.

Elena’s mouth went dry. They were calling it in. Checking their identities against…what? A database? A cartel watch list?

Brock’s hand closed over hers, warm and steady. She glanced at him and saw the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes tracked the officers’ every movement in the side mirror. Ready to act if this went wrong.

Minutes crawled by. The sun beat down through the windshield, and Elena felt sweat gathering at her temples, the small of her back. In the back seat, Nate shifted slightly—a casual movement to anyone watching, but Elena knew he was repositioning for quick access to his weapon if needed.

The officer finally returned, and Elena’s heart stuttered as he approached the window. His expression was unreadable.

“Dr. Smith,” he said, handing back the documents. “You and your wife enjoy the ruins. And you—” he looked at Nate and Eden, “—all of you. Drive safely. The roads near Xpujil can be dangerous.”

“Thank you, Officer,” Brock said, accepting the passports with a smile that looked genuinely grateful. “We will.”

The officer stepped back, waving them on.

Brock pulled back onto the highway at exactly the speed limit. The police car didn’t follow.