Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
But I suppose that will keep things interesting.
Turns out, I can eat anything. He’s made bacon and eggs, potatoes and toast. I slather butter on a crispy piece of toasted sourdough and hum approvingly at the rich, tangy taste. I chase that with a few slices of crispy, salty bacon, scrambled eggs, and golden potatoes. I definitely earned this appetite.
“Oh my God, this is the best food I’ve ever eaten in my life.”
Lev pours me another cup of coffee. “Have you ever had coffee made in front of a campfire? Bacon still sizzling from the cast iron before the sun rises over the mountain? Eat that shit after a ten-mile hike the day before, and you’ll think you died and went to heaven.”
“Hmm,” I say, buttering another piece of toast. “Can’t say that I have, but I’m game to travel. But only if there’s running water. And maybe WiFi. Air-conditioning in the summer and heat in the winter. After, like… maybe the baby can walk.”
I don’t miss the way he cringes when I say baby.
“About that,” he begins, scratching at his bicep. I stare at the ink beneath his fingers, the dark script that reads Memento Mori.
“What does that mean?” I interrupt.
He looks down at the scroll thoughtfully. “‘Remember that you will die.’ I remind myself every day.”
I blink. “That’s not morbid at all.”
“It isn’t,” he says, shaking his head. “It just means, appreciate being alive. Today. Today could be the last day you have.”
I think of Javier’s lifeless eyes. The gravestones in Colombia with my parents’ names on them.
I think of the burgeoning life within me and wonder if it doesn’t all just make sense.
“I interrupted you. You were going to say something about the baby?” I’m still working on this food. It’s delicious, and I’m regaining my strength.
Lev nods soberly, his warm eyes meeting mine. “We need to be careful, Isabella. The life we’re stepping into isn’t just dangerous for us but for anyone we bring into it. If we’re going to have a family… we need to be sure.”
I pause mid-bite, the weight of his words settling over me. “You mean, if we’re going to have more children.”
He nods, his expression serious. “I want them to be safe. I want you to be safe.”
I put down my fork and reach across the table, taking his hand in mine. “Lev, I know the risks. And I know that our world isn’t perfect. But we’re building something new, something better. Together. And we’ll protect our family with everything we have.”
He squeezes my hand, his eyes softening. “I know we will. But it’s going to take time. We have to be smart about this.”
I nod, understanding the gravity of our situation. “Agreed. We take it one step at a time. For now, we focus on taking control and making the changes we need to. The rest will come when it’s right.”
Lev’s lips curve into a small smile. “You're indomitable, aren’t you?”
I grin, picking up my coffee cup. “That’s why you married me, isn’t it?”
“Among other reasons,” he says with a shrug. “It had something to do with you spying on us, if I recall correctly.” He winks.
It feels fitting that we met in the warehouse, and we ended Javier in the exact same place. A bookend of sorts. And now, what we needed, what I hoped for—it all lies before us.
I have to keep my head on straight and lean heavily into the strength of my new allies. “Let’s talk about our plans.”
We finish our breakfast, the conversation shifting to our plans for the day. We discuss our strategy for Colombia, the allies we need to contact, and the changes we’ll implement. Despite the challenges ahead, I feel a sense of excitement and purpose.
I like that.
After breakfast, Lev and I pack our bags quickly, preparing for our trip. As I fold my clothes and place them in the suitcase, I can’t help but feel a bit of anticipation and nervousness. This trip to Colombia is the first step in solidifying our power and ensuring the future we want, merging our families.
But first, we end the human trafficking.
God, I can’t fucking wait.
I look over what I packed. Anything else we need, we can find in my homeland.
My homeland.
A wave of nostalgia hits me when I think about going back to where I grew up, where I was raised… my people. I’ll never forget the lush, vibrant landscapes, the rolling hills, and the beauty of the Andes. The freedom and peace I felt when I rode my horse in the countryside. The wind in my hair.
The music and dancing during our traditional festivals, the sense of pride and joy I got from celebrating my heritage as if partaking in an ancient dance in which I was only a visitor.
My memories bring both comfort and pain, reminders of what I’ve forged and what I’ve lost.