I pace across the hotel room, glancing at the clock.

Jude has been gone for two hours. I know Jude, he won't stay longer than he needs to—unless something happened. No, I refuse to believe that. It's not Ronan's style. He wouldn't sully himself with such things.

I pick up the burner phone Ronan's man gave me and press 1, listening to the foreign dial tone. "Ah, Victoria. I missed you at dinner," Ronan says.

"I need to know what was discussed."

He laughs. "Don't you trust the American to tell you? Oh no, don’t tell me there is there trouble in paradise?"

I sigh. "Ronan."

"Perhaps you should have attended our little meeting as I requested."

A reply is on the tip of my tongue, but I stop. I don't want to talk about meetings and deals. I just want Cayla. "Ronan, please," I say. "Imagine if she were your child. I set up Jude. I killed Jésus. I have done everything you asked. Please, just let me have her," I plead, my voice breaking.

He sighs. "All you have to do is finish the job you started. I'll be in touch, Victoria. And good luck." He hangs up and I stare at the phone for a second. The job I started...

The door to the hotel room slams shut, the sudden bang causing me to jump. "God, I've never wanted to slit someone's throat so bad in my life," Jude says.

I put the burner phone in my back pocket. "Did you see Cayla?" I ask in a rush.

"No." He looks at me and I guess he sees the worry etching itself across my face. "Camilla was with him. She said she was watching her."

My muscles relax slightly. I don't like that he has Camilla. I know she won't be with him willingly, but if anyone will protect my little girl, it's her. She's done it before. "What does he want?" I ask.

"Oh, you know, nothing too fucking extravagant." Jude scrubs his hand over his face. "Just for me to take down the entire motherfucking Sinaloa cartel." He groans. "Insane fucker."

"But… Jésus is dead."

He looks at me. "The entire cartel. Dead and buried, completely."

I feel all the blood drain from my face. "What?" It's impossible. He is asking the impossible. We will never get Cayla back. My hands start to shake and I lower myself to the edge of the bed. The fight that has been raging through me ever since I ran from Jude, ever since I sacrificed everything for Cayla, leaves me. It was all for nothing. Once again, I am powerless to protect her.

"He's fucking crazy," Jude says. I nod, staring at the worn carpet in front of me. "It's fine. It's fine," he mumbles, pacing the room. "As long as we can—"

"Jude." I lift my gaze to his. There's that fire burning in his eyes that's all Jude, and I don't want to be the one that puts it out, but this is ridiculous. "It's impossible," I whisper.

"It's not impossible. It's just gonna require a lot of fucking planning."

"I've been inside the Sinaloa. We're not talking about killing a few guys. It's an international operation. Thousands of people, soldiers, police in their pocket, corrupt politicians... You're talking about a war, Jude." I stand up and close the distance between us, grabbing the front of his shirt. "Even you can't take on an army." I rest my forehead against his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne and allowing it to console me a tiny bit. "Not even for Cayla."

"If Ronan doesn't doubt me, you shouldn't." He kisses my forehead and pushes away from me just enough that I can see his murky green eyes swirling with the promise of danger. "We just have to be willing to die for the cause, that's all."

I frown. "Die for the cause," I repeat on a whisper.

"She needs a normal life, you know that. You've said that." He sighs as he scrubs his hand over the stubble covering his jaw. "There's still hope for her to get out. There's no hope for me. None for you." He brushes his fingers over my cheek. "I've taken you too far down the hole with me. I've tainted you, but we don't have to taint her."

I stare at him. "What are you saying? You want me to abandon her?"

"I want us to save her from this fucking hell we live in."

"You mean, save her from us..." God, it hurts. To know that the greatest danger to your child is yourself. He's right. At one time I might have blamed Jude for everything, but I'm no longer innocent. I've done things that I can't come back from, put a target on my back. Jude and I are a ticking bomb just waiting to go off, and no matter how far or fast we run, we can't outrun ourselves. We can't outrun the inevitable.

He places his hand on my shoulder and gently rubs it. "She's little. It won't be near as hard on her if we die now, because, Tor, even if we fucking survive, we'll be hunted for the rest of our lives and you know that. You don't just take down a cartel and walk away."

I thread my fingers through his hair. His hands land on my hips as his eyes lock with mine. "So, we die," I say.

"For Cayla," he whispers.

A small smile pulls at his lips, a challenge and a promise all in one. Perhaps this is our legacy, to die for our daughter. Jude and I are so tainted, but Cayla is the one good thing we've done. Something pure and good. I'd lay down my life a thousand times over for her.

"There's no better cause," I say.

He strokes his knuckles over my cheek and an ache forms in my chest. The truth is, death is easy. It's the living that's hard. Cayla will live without a mother or father. She will never know that she was loved more than anything or anyone has ever been loved in this world. She will never know what we died for, and I wouldn't want her to, but it hurts...the idea of her without us, the thought that she might grow up feeling alone in a world that can be so dark. "All I ever wanted was for her to be happy," I breathe.

"She will be, doll." He pulls me tight against him and holds me until I almost believe that we can do this.

"She will be." He takes the phone, dials a number, and places the receiver to his ear, waiting a few seconds before he clears his throat. "I'll do it,” he speaks into the phone, “but I want to see her first." Jude's gaze drifts to mine, his nostrils flare. "Fine." And he hangs up.

"Well?"

"Tomorrow morning." I can see the worry, the stress all over Jude's face. Just one night, and I'll get to see my little girl. It's been months since I held her, since I smelt that scent of baby powder on her golden-blonde hair. Jude grips my chin and tilts my head back, placing a soft kiss on my lips. "Get some sleep, doll."

He pulls back the duvet and I lie down on the bed even though tension has my body in a vice like grip. Jude lies beside me and pulls me into his side. He strokes over my hair rhythmically. I'm not sure if he's trying to calm me or himself.

In a messed-up way, I don't want to close my eyes. I've been away from him for so long, and now that it feels as though the world is about to end, but we still have this. We still have each other, despite all the odds, and that means something.

Perhaps even death can't kill my love for Jude.

* * *

It’s early morning when we pull up outside a graffiti-covered warehouse. There’s a layer of snow on decorating the smashed glass of the windows, and litter’s strewn about the concrete.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" I ask Jude.

His jaw is clenched so hard I can see the muscles jumping beneath his skin. He nods, his eyes never straying from the windscreen. There's a groaning sound, followed by the screeching of metal, and then the enormous metal rolling door slowly lifts. As it rises it reveals two men standing with rifles pointed at our car. Jude holds his hand out to me, never looking away from the two men. I place his gun on his waiting palm, and he puts it on his lap, covering it with his hand. One man walks over to Jude’s window, and Jude winds it down. The man shouts something in Russian, and then we're waved forward into the dark recesses of the warehouse. My palms are slick with sweat. My heart hammers in anticipation as we roll forward, parking across from two black SUVs, both facing us. Jude cuts the engine, his fingers wrapping around his gun.

The doors of the other cars swing open and men file out. The soft thud of their boots moving over the concrete floor echo around the warehouse. The unmistakable click of rifles being loaded puts my senses on high alert. The gruffness of the men speaking in Russian all around me causes my hair to stand on end. They fall silent before the army of men part, Camilla moving out from between them with a pink blanket over her shoulder covering Cayla. My heart pounds and skips, my chest so tight I can hardly breath. I can feel Jude tense beside me and he grabs my hand, squeezing hard.

Camilla smiles as she stops in front of us and gently rubs her hand over the blanket. "Wake up, bonita ángel. Wake up," she coos. Cayla sits up and the blanket falls from her head, her blonde hair sticking up in all directions. And my heart stops.

She rubs sleepily at her eyes before turning to face me. The second her eyes land on us, they widen and she squeals, kicking her legs and clapping her hands. "Momma. Dada."

Jude rushes toward her, grabbing her and holding her close as he chokes on a sob. Tears stream down his cheeks and it breaks my heart. "I've missed you so much. So much, little doll."

Cayla lays her head on his chest, scratching her fingers over his broad shoulder. I move closer and kiss her forehead, stroking her soft hair. "Hey, baby girl." I fight back the emotions, swallowing around the lump that's threatening to choke me. This is hard and heart breaking, but I at least understand it. I won't cry in front of her because she doesn't understand any of this. She's just an innocent baby.

She reaches for me, and Jude passes her over. I prop her on my hip and kiss her forehead, squeezing my eyes closed, God, she's everything, my whole heart. She holds up her hand, showing me a little colourful bracelet on her wrist. "That's pretty," I say

"Milla makes it."

I lift my gaze to Camilla who is leaning against the front of the car. There are tears in her eyes even as she offers me a soft smile. She's been looking after my baby when I couldn't. It makes me both love and hate her.

Jude steps closer to my side, placing his hand on Cayla's head. I meet his gaze, witnessing the same crippling pain in his eyes that I feel in the very depths of my soul. This is likely the last time I will see her, the last time we will see her.

One of the men steps forward, shouting in Russian and pointing at Camilla. I hold Cayla tighter as Camilla moves towards me. And suddenly she doesn't look like the beautiful woman who once helped me and my daughter. She looks like an avenging angel, the one who will take my heart from me.

"I'm sorry, Tor," she says quietly.

"No," I say, my voice breaking as tears track down my face. I don't want to do this. I don't want to cry in front of my little girl. She comes closer, and I take a step back, pressing my hand over the back of Cayla's head as if I could protect her from all this.

"Just give us a minute, goddamn it," Jude shouts. He steps between me and the men, and like clockwork, one of them pulls a gun and presses it to Jude's temple.

"Jude," I choke out. He turns to face me, and I shake my head at him. This is a fight we cannot win, and we only endanger her by trying.

My heart is breaking in my chest, but somehow I manage to drop to a crouch and prop Cayla on my knees, looking at her perfect little face, her big blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. "Mummy loves you, Cayla." I spot the little hummingbird at her neck and bite the inside of my lip. She puts her tiny hand on my cheek, trying to wipe away my tears, and it makes it worse. This is the worst pain I have ever felt in my life. "I love you, more than all the stars in the sky," I whisper.

Her little eyebrows pull together in a frown. "Momma?" I kiss her forehead, allowing my lips to linger on her skin before I reluctantly stand up. My legs feel numb, and I can't make myself move. Camilla closes the space between us, and I see the pity in her eyes.

"I will guard her with my life," she says as she grabs Cayla under the arms, lifting her from my knee.

Panic washes over Cayla's face. "Momma, no!" I choke on a sob as Camilla takes her from me. "No!" The sound of her distress breaks me. Tears pour down her little face and she reaches for me. "Dada. Dada." She gasps for breaths between deep cries.

"I love you," Jude says, his voice strained. "Camilla will watch after you until we can come back. I’m sorry, little doll." He takes a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.” There’s so much strain in his voice, so much heartache filling this room.

I press my hand over my mouth, and I do the only thing I can do. I turn my back on my baby.

Stumbling over to the car, I yank the door open and climb inside. I can't do this. Heaving sobs rack my body as guilt consumes me. My poor baby girl. She thinks I abandoned her. Again. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I try to just fucking survive. I just need to survive this pain and do what needs to be done. The driver's door opens and Jude gets in. The engine starts and he reverses out of the warehouse so fast I get whiplash.

As we drive away from Cayla, the only sound in the car is my breaking heart and pain filled cries. I wish I was stronger, but I'm not.

I will never be strong enough to say goodbye to her.