“She passed out,” he says, breath short. “We’ve been back here for hours. She hasn’t moved.”
The man mutters something under his breath. He’s buying it. I feel the floor shift under his weight as he steps out of the truck again.
The voices outside are low. I hear a call to Matteo. A sharper answer follows. Then more footsteps.
Another set of boots climbs up into the truck. Lighter. More familiar.
He crouches beside me, fingers brushing my cheek.
His voice is soft, almost broken. “Lira. Wake up.” His palm cups the side of my face. “Please, baby, come on…”
My body lifts.
Arms around me. Mico pulls me into him and holds me upright, rocking gently.
His fingers press into the side of my neck. Checking.
He sighs. “Still there.”
Then—he lifts me.
The cold air hits me first. The night wind wraps around my arms as he steps down from the truck bed with me in his arms. The ground crunches beneath his boots. His grip tightens.
My arm jerks up, the way Severo showed me. I strike with the base of my palm—low, firm, right beneath the jawline.
Mico stumbles back with a choking sound. His arms loosen. His throat catches.
He drops me.
I roll onto my knees and spring forward. One of the guards near the back of the truck reaches for his holster. I’m already there.
I slam my shoulder into his ribs. My fingers hook around the butt of his pistol.
He curses.
I yank it free and spin.
I raise the weapon to my temple.
“Don’t fucking move,” I snap, my voice hoarse. The metal presses cold into my skin. My finger rests firm on the trigger. “One step, and I kill myself.”
They freeze.
Mico is coughing behind me, still bent over. He lifts his head slowly. His eyes are wide now, mouth slack.
I keep the gun steady.
Severo’s voice runs through my head, the moment the truck first slowed, and we knew we were near the border.
“When they stop, they’ll bring you out first,” he said, binding the ropes around my wrists just loosely enough to slip. “Matteo won’t come near you yet. Mico will. He’ll want to carry you himself. He’ll want you to feel rescued.”
He looped the ropes again, tugged to test. I nodded.
“That’s when you hit him. Right here.” He pressed his thumb to the exact spot under my jaw, at the hollow just beneath the ear. “It won’t kill him. But it’ll knock the air out. You won’t get a second chance, so don’t hesitate.”
My pulse had raced, but I kept my chin up. “Then what?”
“You grab the guard’s gun. Whoever’s closest. You won’t be able to shoot—there’ll be too many of them. But you don’t need to. Just aim it.”