The Mendezes
Aaliyah
The steady rumble of the car engine filled the silence, broken only by the occasional bump of the uneven road. Aaliyah sat stiffly in the passenger seat, the small metal case holding their new IDs resting on her lap. The weight of it felt disproportionate, as though the papers inside carried the entirety of her future.
She glanced at Cruz, who was focused on the road ahead, her expression as unreadable as ever. Aaliyah had learned to stop expecting reassurances from her—Cruz wasn’t the type to offer comforting words. But there was a steadiness in her presence, a certainty that had become Aaliyah’s anchor in all of this.
With a deep breath, Aaliyah opened the case. The crisp documents stared back at her, pristine and professional, as though they belonged to entirely different people. She pulled out the first ID and studied it.
“Kate Mendez,” she read aloud, her voice quiet. “That’s me?”
Cruz’s lips twitched faintly, though her eyes didn’t leave the road. “Congratulations, Kate. You’re officially no one.”
Aaliyah frowned, flipping the ID over in her hand. The photo was hers, but the name and details felt foreign, like they belonged to a stranger. She pulled out the second ID and raised an eyebrow. “And you’re…” She hesitated, reading the name. “Samantha Mendez?”
“Sam,” Cruz corrected, her tone matter-of-fact. “Keep it simple.”
Aaliyah looked at the IDs again, her brow furrowing. “What’s our cover?”
Cruz’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly. “We’re sisters. Traveling for personal reasons. Keep it vague but consistent.”
Aaliyah snorted softly, unable to help herself. “Sisters?”
Cruz finally glanced at her, one eyebrow arching. “Would you rather be my cousin? Or my wife?”
The air in the car shifted, Cruz’s teasing tone lingering like static. Aaliyah’s stomach did an unexpected flip, heat rushing to her cheeks before she could stop it. She quickly turned her attention back to the IDs, her voice coming out a little too quickly. “Sisters is fine,” she said, her face burning. “Kate and Sam Mendez. Got it.”
“Good choice,” Cruz replied, her tone light but carrying an edge of amusement that only made Aaliyah’s cheeks burn hotter.
The moment passed, but its echoes lingered in Aaliyah’s chest. She stared out the window, the sparkling blue of the Mediterranean stretching out on the horizon. Her heart was still fluttering, an unbidden reaction she didn’t fully understand—or maybe didn’t want to acknowledge.
She had known, deep down, for years. The way her stomach knotted whenever she saw a certain kind of smile, or how her pulse quickened at the brush of a hand against hers. It was a truth she had buried beneath layers of fear and denial because there had never been room for it. Not in her life. Not in Saudi Arabia.
Being who she was—feeling what she felt—wasn’t just dangerous; it was a death sentence. Her father would call it a dishonor, her family would cast her out, and society would ensure she paid the ultimate price. Even thinking about it was dangerous, but here, now, in the company of a woman like Cruz, the walls she had built around herself felt thinner, more fragile.
And Cruz… Cruz wasn’t like anyone she had ever met. She was sharp-edged and unwavering, but there was something in her steadiness that felt like safety. Aaliyah wasn’t naïve enough to think Cruz saw her the same way—or that Cruz had meant anything by the comment—but the thought still made her pulse quicken.
She pressed her fingers against her temples, willing the thoughts away. This wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place. It wasn’t safe. It never had been.
“How are we getting off the island?” she asked, breaking the silence and forcing herself back to the present.
“No planes,” Cruz said firmly, her eyes scanning the road ahead. “Too easy to track.”
Aaliyah’s stomach sank. “Then how?”
“Boat,” Cruz replied. “I’ve arranged a ride on a chartered fishing yacht. It leaves this afternoon.”
Aaliyah turned to her, her brow furrowing. “A fishing yacht? Won’t they ask questions?”
“They won’t,” Cruz said, her tone clipped. “I made sure of it.”
The answer didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but Aaliyah had learned not to question Cruz’s methods. The woman seemed to have a contingency plan for every scenario, even if she didn’t bother explaining it.
“And once we’re on the mainland?” Aaliyah asked.
“Barcelona,” Cruz said. “From there, we disappear. Change locations, stay on the move until we’re far enough away that your family stops looking.”
Aaliyah nodded slowly, though her chest tightened at the thought of constantly being on the run. “Do you think they’ll stop looking?”
Cruz hesitated, the first crack in her composed exterior. “People like your father don’t give up easily. But we’ll make it hard for him.”
Aaliyah leaned back in her seat, staring out the window as the car sped along the winding road. The yacht, Barcelona, a new identity—it all sounded so final. Yet, a part of her couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder, expecting to see her father’s men closing in.
“What happens if they find us?” she asked quietly.
“They won’t,” Cruz said firmly.
Aaliyah glanced at her, studying her profile. Cruz’s jaw was set, her eyes sharp and focused. The woman exuded confidence, but Aaliyah couldn’t help but wonder if it was just a façade.
The car turned onto a gravel path that led to a small marina tucked along the coast. The smell of salt and fish filled the air as they pulled into a lot lined with weathered boats. Cruz parked the car and cut the engine, turning to Aaliyah with the faintest hint of a smirk.
“Ready to meet your ride?”
Aaliyah hesitated, her fingers tightening around the case in her lap. “Do I have a choice?”
“Not really,” Cruz said, her smirk fading into something more serious. “Stick close to me. Don’t say anything unless I tell you to.”
Aaliyah nodded, swallowing hard as she climbed out of the car. The sun beat down on them as they walked toward the docks, the sound of waves lapping against the hulls of the boats filling the air. Cruz moved with the calm precision Aaliyah had come to expect, her gaze sweeping the marina for anything—or anyone—out of place.
They boarded the boat without incident, the captain starting the engine with a grunt and a nod. Aaliyah settled into a corner of the deck, her heart pounding as the yacht pulled away from the dock and out into open water.
For the first time in days, the island began to fade into the distance. Aaliyah stared at the horizon, clutching the IDs in her lap. Kate Mendez. A sister to a woman she barely knew, fleeing a life she could never go back to.
And beneath it all, that fluttering feeling lingered—a quiet reminder of the parts of herself she had been forced to hide for so long.
Cruz
The road twisted and turned, the Mediterranean flashing into view between stretches of jagged cliffs. Cruz kept her hands steady on the wheel, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every so often. She wasn’t expecting anyone to be following them—not yet—but vigilance had been burned into her muscle memory. The moment she let her guard down would be the moment something went wrong.
Beside her, Aaliyah sat quietly, the small metal case containing their new IDs resting on her lap. Cruz glanced at her briefly, catching the slight furrow in her brow as she opened the case. The weight of it was clear, even if Aaliyah hadn’t said anything yet. A new name, a new identity—it wasn’t as simple as swapping one life for another. The past didn’t just vanish because a piece of paper said it should.
“Kate Mendez,” Aaliyah read aloud, her voice quiet. “That’s me?”
Cruz allowed herself the faintest twitch of a smile. “Congratulations, Kate. You’re officially no one.”
It was meant to be dry, practical, but there was a hint of something else in her tone—a bitter edge she couldn’t quite suppress. She’d carried more aliases than she could count, but none of them had ever truly been hers. They were tools, roles to play. The idea of a stable, settled life had always been a mirage, too far out of reach to even consider.
Aaliyah pulled out the second ID, raising an eyebrow. “And you’re… Samantha Mendez?”
“Sam,” Cruz corrected. “Keep it simple.”
Aaliyah frowned slightly, her gaze lingering on the IDs. “What’s our cover?”
“Sisters,” Cruz replied, keeping her tone matter-of-fact. “Traveling for personal reasons. Keep it vague but consistent.”
Aaliyah’s snort caught her off guard. “Sisters?”
Cruz glanced at her, one eyebrow arching. The faint amusement in Aaliyah’s tone made her smirk before she even thought about it. “Would you rather be my cousin? Or my wife?”
She hadn’t intended for the joke to land with anything more than practicality, but the shift in the car’s atmosphere was immediate. Aaliyah’s cheeks flushed pink, and her eyes darted back to the IDs. She stammered out a response, her voice coming faster than usual. “Sisters is fine. Kate and Sam Mendez. Got it.”
Cruz blinked, the unexpected reaction catching her off guard. She turned her attention back to the road, but the moment stuck with her. Aaliyah’s blush wasn’t just embarrassment—it was something else. Something Cruz didn’t want to think about too hard.
It was a joke, she reminded herself, forcing her focus back to the task at hand. But the weight of her own words lingered.
The truth was, a wife would only ever be part of a cover for her. The life she lived—the life she had chosen—left no room for anything else. The trauma, the scars, the constant state of vigilance… none of it was conducive to stability. And even if it were, Cruz didn’t believe she was the kind of person who could ever make someone happy. She didn’t know how to give anyone the kind of peace or love a wife deserved.
Settling down was a dream for people with lives that weren’t built on violence and betrayal. Cruz had made her peace with that a long time ago. Or so she thought.
Aaliyah’s blush lingered in the corner of her mind, a quiet reminder of how far she’d drifted from anything resembling normal. She didn’t know why it stuck with her—why it mattered at all. But it did.
The car jostled slightly as they turned onto a gravel path leading to a small marina. Cruz straightened in her seat, her eyes scanning the area as they pulled into a lot lined with weathered boats. The air smelled of salt and fish, the tang sharp enough to cut through her thoughts.
She parked the car and cut the engine, turning to Aaliyah with a faint smirk. “Ready to meet your ride?”
Aaliyah hesitated, her fingers tightening around the case in her lap. “Do I have a choice?”
“Not really,” Cruz replied, her smirk fading into something more serious. “Stick close to me. Don’t say anything unless I tell you to.”
Aaliyah nodded, her expression tense but resolute. Cruz stepped out of the car first, her posture relaxed but her senses on high alert. The marina was quiet, but quiet didn’t mean safe. She moved toward the docks with purpose, her eyes sweeping for anything out of place.
The captain was waiting for them, his weathered face and sun-bleached clothes making him look like he belonged to the sea. He raised a hand in greeting as they approached, his expression neutral but watchful.
“You the one?” the captain asked, his voice gruff.
Cruz nodded, her stance calm but firm. “That’s me. We agreed on discretion.”
“You’ll get it,” the captain replied, his gaze flicking to Aaliyah briefly before settling back on Cruz. “Let’s get moving.”
Cruz turned to Aaliyah, her voice low but steady. “Let’s go.”
The fishing yacht wasn’t large, but it looked sturdy. Cruz guided Aaliyah onto the deck, keeping herself between her and the captain as they settled into a corner. The captain moved quickly, untying the ropes and starting the engine with practiced efficiency.
As the boat pulled away from the dock and into open water, Cruz allowed herself a moment of tentative relief. They were leaving Mallorca behind, putting distance between themselves and the people hunting them. On the mainland, their options would multiply. The IDs would hold, at least for now.
But Cruz couldn’t shake the tension coiled in her chest. Her instincts wouldn’t let her relax—not yet. She leaned against the railing, her eyes scanning the horizon as the island began to fade from view.
Aaliyah stood beside her, clutching the metal case to her chest. Cruz glanced at her briefly, the girl’s expression a mix of fear and something else—something more like hope.
Cruz let out a quiet breath, her gaze turning back to the sea. They were moving forward. That was all that mattered.