Chapter 9 - The Poison in the Veins
By dawn, the safehouse was fully operational. Julian had brought three trusted combat medics who were blindfolded before being driven to the perimeter, establishing a sterile emergency surgical suite in the cabin’s basement.
I stood on the wraparound wooden porch, watching the mist rise from Lake Geneva, an assault rifle resting against the railing.
Behind me, the sliding screen door opened.
Mateo walked out barefoot, holding a half-eaten piece of toast Elena had prepared. He walked right up to the railing, leaning his chest against the wood, looking out over the water.
"Is the water cold?" he asked.
"Very cold," I answered. "Freeze your toes off."
"Elena said we can swim when the bad men go to sleep." He took a bite of toast. "When are they going to sleep, Papa?"
I looked down at the boy who had my eyes, my jawline, and my mother's stubborn chin.
"Soon, Mateo. Very soon."
"Good. Because Nico wants to catch a fish. He made a hook from a paperclip."
I couldn't help the slight smirk that broke across my mouth. "A paperclip won't hold a lake trout. I'll buy him proper gear when we're done."
"Proper gear," Mateo repeated, testing the words like he was memorizing them for an exam. He looked up at my sidearm. "Did you kill the bad men at the big house?"
I paused. Most men would lie to a four-year-old child. They would feed him fairy tales about candy and peaceful escapes. But my blood was different. These boys were born with targets on their backs; lies would only get them killed.
"I did," I said evenly.
Mateo nodded slowly, processing the information without terror. "Good. They made Elena cry. Sofia said whenever someone makes Elena cry, we have to stand in front of her."
The memory of Sofia’s fiery protective spirit hit me like a physical blow. She had taught these boys bravery before she even took her final breath.
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"You won't have to stand in front of her anymore," I said, placing a heavy hand on his small shoulder. "That's my job now."
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