Suddenly the fog of despair that had filled my mind lifted—just a little. I felt Rafael’s broad hand clamp around my arm, felt his muscles strain as he tugged me to safety. I was heaved up into the air, and as the world came back into focus again, I found myself dangling over his shoulder, bouncing around and trying not to be sick as he ran down a narrow alley. I’d lost my Beretta, but didn’t care. I was alive.