Page 192 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Wrenching the wooden board up, I reach inside and grab the two fake British passports and our limited stack of remaining cash. Melody and Adele. I begged Pedro to get one too, though it was to no avail.

He’s the only real friend I’ve ever had, but with his entire family in Mr Sanchez’s mansion staff, he insisted on staying behind to protect them. Instead, he’s going to get us to safety and go on the run, far from this hellish house.

With everything packed up, I throw the small duffel bag over my shoulder and take Arianna’s hand. We have to creep through the house on silent feet, dodging the patrol of private security that my husband hires for his own protection.

I don’t know why he needs bodyguards. There’s a lot about his dark and shadowy life that I don’t understand. Any questions are met with brutality and violence, so I learned to stop asking very quickly.

I’ve memorised where the CCTV cameras sit, recording the sprawling estate. We duck and weave our way to the deserted kitchens. Creeping inside, I nearly scream when someone emerges from the darkness.

Pedro raises his hands. “It’s just me, Willow.”

“Thank God. Is everything set?”

When he moves me into the faint light by the back door, he sees my face and lets out a curse. I can only imagine what I look like right now. I’m lucky to be alive after that beating.

“What the hell has he done to you?”

I press a hand to my abdomen. “It doesn’t matter. He’s in there with another woman right now. It should buy us some time to run.”

Disgust stains Pedro’s tanned, handsome features. He was born and raised in Mexico City. His father is the head chef of the household, while Pedro was awarded a role in Mr Sanchez’s personal security team.

Over the years, we’ve become friends in a series of quiet, secretive snippets. Whispered conversations. Exchanged smiles. Silent jokes and glimmers of hope. He’s kept me alive so many times.

When he approached me with an escape plan after nearly eight years of watching Mr Sanchez’s abuse, I broke down, desperately accepting his help. Anything to escape this perpetual hell, no matter the risk to us all. It’s taken so long to get everything into place.

“As soon as we’re in the air, you need to get out of town,” I tell him. “Hell, get out of Mexico. I won’t let your family suffer the fallout of our actions.”

Pedro seizes my hands and squeezes. “It’s going to be okay. I swore that I’d get you out of here, and I will. Both of you. Don’t worry about us.”

Tugging me against his broad chest, his lips brush mine in a brief whisper. I’m too surprised to respond, letting him kiss me gently, frozen like a statute until his forehead meets mine.

“I’m sorry… I just had to do that. I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.”

“It’s okay.”

Meeting his eyes hidden beneath a shock of curly black hair, I feel nothing but gratitude. He’s been the only friendly face in this purgatory. In many ways, we’ve grown up here together, trapped by our separate roles and shared hatred of Mr Sanchez.

“If things were different, I would, you know.” I wince, wracked by pain that blurs my vision. “But we both have people counting on us.”

Pedro gives me a weak smile. “I know. Me too.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for helping us.”

“You can repay me by living. Both of you. Live the best goddamn life you can possibly imagine. Promise me, Willow. Promise me that you’ll live.”

I press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I promise.”

“Good. Let’s go. You have a plane to catch.”

Leaving him to swipe his pass and disable the alarm, I grab Arianna and bounce on my feet, anxious to be gone. Once the door has been unlocked using his personal swipe card, Pedro lifts Arianna into his arms, taking my hand with the other.

Together, we slip out into the stifling hot darkness, pierced by the tick of cicadas and nearby cars driving past on the road that circles the mansion’s private land. We sneak around the outside, heading for the exit used by staff only.

Running in tandem, I see the towering, black-lacquered gates ahead, ready to be unlocked with another swipe of his card. A tiny flicker of hope burns in my heart. We’re so close. This could actually work.

“Nearly there. Hold on,” Pedro pants.

“I can hear voices!”

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