Querido Cristobal,

It's been so difficult being away from you for the past few weeks. Still, I know that this is for the best. I knew that signing on for this job with the FBI would require a lot of me, but honestly, I feel like it's worth it, especially since they agreed to full immunity after this assignment—for both of us. I guess it's not the most flattering of jobs, but helping the feds track down cartels is a heck of a lot better than running for my life from safehouse to safehouse. Once I finish working this case, my boss plans to make good on his promise. He'll station us somewhere we can settle down for good. This is all so surreal. I almost can't believe something good came of getting my heart broken.

I dropped my pen, hand suddenly shaking.

I shuddered to think of it again. No matter how hard I tried, I would never, ever be able to forget that awful night.

****

I had driven Roberto about forty miles away from the hospital, and we were hiding in Alma's sister's house. A few hours later, at about three a.m., a cop was knocking on the front door looking for me. I was prepared to run again with Roberto, but then I'd heard Hannah's voice. She said that she had told the police—the real police—everything.

I answered the door, and she told me that Alex, Azalea, and Hunter were all recovering at the hospital.

Roberto and I went to see them, to finish hearing the story of everything that'd happened at Scofield-Andrews. But it wasn't until Hannah thought she was alone with Alex that the real bombshell dropped.

She walked into his room and closed the door behind her. But she left the window curtains wide open. I happened to be walking by, and I saw her lean down and start kissing him. He told her he loved her and started peeling back her shirt.

I didn't need to see anymore—my imagination did the rest. I covered my eyes and ran down the hall, bursting through the double-door entrance to the hospital and stealing into the woods. The sounds of the night echoed hatefully, berating my eardrums with their bitter, cacophonous melody. As the forestry thickened, I felt branches scratching my arms and bugs biting my neck. Skin ripped, flesh tore, blood oozed.

But I didn't care; I just keep sprinting, crying, screaming—hoping that by some miracle I would wake up, that all of this would be some frightful, terrible nightmare.

Nothing...I was nothing to him.

At six a.m., I stopped running, feeling almost too weak to draw even a single breath. I collapsed in the middle of a grassy field, my eyes foggy and my skin blistering.

At some point, my eyelids shuttered against the encroaching morning...and when they reopened, a man dressed in dark blue was staring down at me. In his hands were a set of cold, silvery handcuffs.

"Do it," I breathed wearily.

"Do what?"

"Arrest me. Deport me. Kill me. I don't care." A clear, wet tear rolled across the side of my face and splashed on the grass beneath my head.

"Nah," he said casually. "I know who you are." He pulled a long bronze key from his pocket.

Oh, no.

"I know about Alma," he continued. "I know about this key, about how it unlocks almost every door in this city—even the door to the giant manhole that psycho used to get in and out of Alma's fake clinic."

I started breathing slowly, surrendering, giving myself up to whatever fate he would pronounce upon me.

He sighed. "The thing is, Sara...these handcuffs aren't for you." He knelt down, extended his hand. "Come with me."

****

Shuddering at the memory, at how foolish I'd been to let some stupid boy make me run and cry through the woods, I picked up my pen again. My hand was still shaking, but I knew that I had to keep writing. I'd been through so much—we'd been through so much. And we were finally free.

And don't think for a moment that I'll let this job get in the way of coming to your wedding. María-Natalia is such a sweet girl. I'm so glad she said yes. Although, I'm not sure how anyone could possibly say no to you, Cristobal. You're the most gorgeous guy I know, even if I am a little biased.

Oh! While it's still on my mind, I guess I should let you know that I finally picked which dress I'm going to wear. I decided to go with the blue one, the one that you said reminded you of Mom. It seems fitting that I should wear it to your wedding...the wedding that she never got to see. When you kiss María-Natalia, when you two are finally betrothed husband and wife, I know Mom will be looking down on us. It really will be a dream come true.

All that to say, I'm glad that I picked the blue dress instead of that white one I was considering. It was really beautiful too, but it just felt so wrong. I can't help but shiver at the thought of wearing white to something as happy as a wedding. I guess after everything that happened with Phillip and Lucy, white dresses just creep me out...not to mention robes.