Indiana tries to help me keep her going, but Holden is lost in his own thoughts, and I can tell from how often he glances at the gunmen’s rifles that his thoughts are going to get us killed.

Finally Silvana calls for a bathroom break. “Five minutes,” she shouts. “Nada más.”

Pen, Domenica, and I head into the woods to relieve ourselves, escorted by Natalia and her rifle. On my way back to the clearing, I hear Sebastián and Silvana arguing in hushed voices. I stop behind a tree, trying to listen, but I can only pick up bits and pieces.

“No se suponía que iba a morir . . .” Sebastián hisses. He wasn’t supposed to die.

They’re talking about Ryan. My hand clenches around my backpack strap, and the buckle bites into my skin. Do they know he’s dead or are they just assuming?

“. . . mi jefe se pondrá furioso . . .” My boss will be pissed.

“My boss won’t give a shit, as long as he gets what he wants,” Silvana replies.

My head spins. She doesn’t work with Sebastián. And she obviously doesn’t care if some of the hostages die. She could be part of some splinter political group or maybe a member of a drug cartel. Maddie said the conflict in Colombia was over, but it’s not like people have stopped using drugs.

A stick breaks beneath my foot, and I suck in a startled breath, waiting to see if they’ve heard me. But they’re still arguing.

Silvana lets her rifle hang from its strap and props both hands on her hips. “You deal with the hostages and let me do my job.”

Does that mean he’s in charge of us?

“Llámale,” he replies, pulling the satellite phone from his bag. “En seguida.” Call him. Right now.

Silvana glares at him. But then she takes the phone and presses a button.

I hear a series of soft tones as the phone autodials. She holds it to her ear, and a second later she speaks. “Buenas tardes, Hernán. Tenemos Genesis, Ryan, y Madalena. You know what we want for them.”

The realization washes over me like the shock of a cold rain. “Dad!” I run at her, grasping for the phone, but Sebastián catches me around the waist. “Dad!”

“Genesis!” my father’s voice is soft, stretched over the distance and the wireless connection, but I can hear the power in it. He’s shouting. In his office at home, the glass case behind his desk is probably rattling.

“Let go!” I slam the heel of my boot into Sebastián’s shin. He only tightens his grip. I shove my elbow into his ribs. He grunts, and his hold weakens. “We’re in the jungle!” I shout. “Somewhere near the—”

Silvana pulls her pistol left-handed and aims it at me.

“Stop,” Sebastián whispers into my ear with a thick accent.

“She’s lying!” I yell. “They don’t have—”

Sebastián’s hand covers my mouth.

“Give us what we want, and you’ll get all three of them back,” Silvana says into the phone.

“Don’t touch her!” my father shouts. “Silvana, if you hurt her, I’ll—”

“You have until three p.m. tomorrow. Twenty-four hours, Hernán.”

Silvana gives me a smug smile and ends the call.

MADDIE

I sink to my knees in the dirt. Tears fill my eyes, blurring the clearing around me.

It’s not Ryan. It can’t be. We heard seventeen shots. Anyone could be buried under that tree.

But seventeen anyones could not. It’s a single grave.

I crawl toward the fresh earth. Rocks bruise my palms and cut into my knees. The rest of the camp blurs into nothing on the edges of my vision.

I have one mission, and it has only two parts.

Dig up the grave.

See any face in the world other than my brother’s.

I pick up the first clod of dirt, then I’m digging, frantically tossing handful after handful over my shoulder. Soil cakes beneath my nails. Bugs land on my neck, but I hardly feel the bites. My breath hitches with each inhalation. I’m choking on my own fear.

Eighteen inches down, I scrape a muddy swath of cotton. I fall back on my heels and wipe my eyes with both grimy hands, breathing through the fierce ache wrapped tightly around my chest.

I claw at the dirt now, sniffling, and each bit I remove exposes more of a blood-and-dirt-stained shirt.

My finger scrapes metal, and I freeze.

No.

I brush the dirt away. My hand trembles as I clutch the medallion.

My father wore one just like it. They used it to identify his remains, in the burned-out van where he was found, on the outskirts of Cartagena.

Like my father, Ryan never took his medallion off.

“No, no, no.” I pull Ryan up by his shoulders, devastated by the pliant resistance of his weight as I hug him to my chest.

“Ryan . . . Ryan!” This can’t be real. He can’t be gone.

A twig snaps to my left, and I look up, still clutching my brother’s body.

Moisés stands fifteen feet away, his rifle aimed at my head. “Well, isn’t that sweet?”

GENESIS

“Why did they only call in her ransom?” Domenica asks as we wade into the narrow river.

Penelope picks her way across several small rocks sticking up from the surface. “Her dad owns the world’s largest independent shipping company.”

“Like, UPS?” Domenica frowns. “How big could it be, if I never heard of it before this morning?”

“Genesis Shipping is freight transportation,” Pen explains. “Gen’s dad has a huge fleet of trucks, planes, trains, and cargo ships moving merchandise and materials for companies all over the world. He even has contracts with several governments. Ransoming her is a massive payday.”

They think I’m too upset to listen.

They don’t know me at all.

“I’m worth more than she is,” Holden insists. But our kidnappers clearly think they can get three ransoms from my dad, as long as he doesn’t know about Maddie and Ryan.

But he should know. My aunt and grandmother should know.

I can’t be the only one who knows what happened. Not again.

“Genesis. Mija. Where is your mother?” My father kneels next to me on the living room carpet. He looks scared.

I’ve never seen my father scared.