I walk forward, and I hear nothing but the roar of my pulse, even as my boots crunch through twigs and leaves.

My breath freezes in my throat, and my legs stop working. Is this what happened to my father?

“¡Ándale!” the gunman shouts, and I flinch. “Back to the bunkhouse.”

“Okay.” Slowly, I lift my arms to show him I’m not resisting. “Who are you?”

He shoves me in the back with the rifle again, and I stumble forward. My heart races and my vision begins to swim. The jungle starts to spin around me.

Calm down, Maddie. You’re still alive for a reason. Think it through.

I take a deep breath and take another step. Then another. Finally my legs are working on their own, and so are my thoughts. “Is this about cocaine?” Have we gotten caught up in some kind of drug trafficking . . . incident?

“¡Cállate!” The gunman shoves me again, and my jaw snaps shut. “No talking.”

It’s going to be fine, Maddie. But I’ve never been a very good liar. Not even to myself.

44 HOURS EARLIER

GENESIS

“Who else is with Genesis Shipping and Wainwright Pharmaceuticals?” Silvana demands.

To my surprise, Indiana steps forward.

After a second, Domenica joins him. I hear her whisper as she passes Silvana, “No soy americana. Por favor, no me mates.”

“I don’t care if you’re not American.” Silvana motions her toward us with the butt of her pistol.

Penelope finally takes one shaky step forward, staring at the ground.

“I’m their tour guide,” Nico says as he joins us.

Silvana shoves him back into line. “You four, over there.” She waves us toward the post where Holden stands. Then she studies the remaining hostages one at a time. After a couple of minutes, she shoves Rog toward us, then orders everyone else to lie facedown on the ground with their hands behind their backs.

Armed gunmen don’t tell people to lie facedown on the ground because they’re about to hand out candy and send everyone home. Chill bumps rise on my arms and legs. The tour guide’s stray dog lies by his side and tucks her nose beneath her paws.

Penelope watches with wide, teary eyes, and Indiana looks sick when one of the gunmen comes forward with a bundle of zip ties. He begins binding the prone hostages’ hands at their backs.

Two of the women are crying, their wet cheeks pressed into the dirt, and I want to look away. My own terror is more than enough to deal with. But I know what’s going to happen to them, and I won’t turn away from their pain.

Not this time.

“Don’t look, Genesis.” She’s choking on tears, facedown on the floor, but I can still understand her. “Close your eyes, baby.”

“Listen to your mother.” The man’s face is in shadows, but light glints off his knife.

“Just keep your eyes closed, baby, no matter what you hear.” She’s sobbing, and I don’t know what to do. “It’ll all be over in a minute.”

So I close my eyes.

I refuse to look away.

But when the gunman has bound them all, he only stands behind them, rifle at the ready. He’s going to drag it out. He’s going to torture them with the inevitability of their own deaths.

Bastard.

“Silvana! ¡Vamos!”

I follow the voice to find another man in fatigues coming out of the bunkhouse carrying an automatic rifle.

“Oh, shit. Sebastián.” Nico’s friend, who danced with Maddie in Cartagena. He didn’t just follow us to the beach. He led us to Tayrona, through Nico. Then he led us into the jungle.

I clench my hands together to keep them from shaking.

We’ve been targets since the moment we stepped off the plane.

MADDIE

The shouts from camp get louder as the man with the gun marches me closer.

“¡Silencio!”

“¡Formen una línea!”

“¡Pongan sus teléfonos en la bolsa!”

The hikers are being kidnapped. I’m being kidnapped.

Twigs snap beneath my feet. A branch slaps my arm. I have to do something, but I don’t know what to do, other than to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

I step into the clearing with the rifle pressed into my spine. Terror shoots through me. There are at least eight gunmen, and two of them are soldiers stationed at the bunkhouse. The men who watched me get into my tent last night. Who are supposed to protect tourists from things like this.

Most of the hikers lie facedown on the ground, bound with plastic zip ties. I recognize two of the bros and Nico, but Ryan, Genesis, and Luke aren’t with them.

Near panic, I search the rest of the clearing. Genesis and her friends are in front of the bunkhouse, with two gunmen. My brother isn’t with them.

Genesis looks relieved to see me, but then she mouths Ryan’s name, her brows arched in question.

I can only shrug, but a small buoy of hope bobs to the surface of my fear. They haven’t caught Ryan. He can go for help.

“Silvana,” the gunman at my back calls.

A woman in camo pants with a headful of poufy curls turns. Her brows rise. “What have you brought me, Moisés?”

“I found her in the jungle.”

Silvana comes closer, an automatic rifle slung over her back. Her gaze takes in my cheap boots and faded tee, then settles on the lump at my waistband. She reaches for the hem of my shirt and I flinch away from her. Moisés holds me in place while she lifts my shirt and eyes my insulin pump.

I can see her weighing some decision, as if my worth can be established by a column of pluses and minuses. Genesis and her friends are going to be moved, but the people on the ground have guns aimed at their backs.

My head spins so fast the campsite blurs around me. “I’m stronger than I look. I can hike.”

I don’t want to die.

She points toward the bound hostages. “Lie on your stomach and put your hands behind your back.” My strength and determination have not moved her. My life means nothing to her. She looks at Moisés. “If she tries to get up, shoot her.”

“No! Please!” I shout as he drags me across the ground. My tears blur the clearing. “Please!”

“Wait!” Genesis shouts. “She’s my—” But another gunman aims a pistol at her head, and her mouth snaps shut.