Habib looks at her wide-eyed.His body grows slack.He mumbles something, a whisper so low I can’t make it out.It must not be a request for forgiveness, as in response, Sabera spits in his face.
And then…
Daryl slowly lowers the man’s body to the kitchen floor.We’re all breathing hard, clearly stunned.
This is it?We did it?We have Aliah, we have Sabera, now we can get Zahra and—
“Sorry,” Daryl murmurs.“I thought I saw movement near the pool house, went to check it out.”Then, frowning: “Where’s Roberta?”
I gaze at him, and, in the next instant, realize our second unfortunate surprise of the evening.We assumed Aliah was being held somewhere else.But Aliah is right here.Meaning the other two captors didn’t have to stay back.They must be here, too, somewhere on the grounds.
Which Roberta was going to quickly cover before making her own appearance.Except she hasn’t appeared.Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
I’m just opening my mouth to warn Daryl…
The glass sliders explode.Another pump of a shotgun.Second explosion, this one taking out the chandelier overhead.
I fling my arms over my head as the ceiling rains down pebble-sized shards.Aliah collapses beside me.A scream from the other side of the island—Sabera.
I glance over to see Daryl, sprawled unconscious on the kitchen floor.There’s blood everywhere.
I have one thought: Habib’s knife.If I could just grab it for protection…
Then a dark-bearded man appears, blocking my view of Daryl as he leers at me from the end of the island.
He holds up Habib’s curved dagger.He smiles.
In his black gaze, I see a dozen different kinds of hell.
And his gleeful anticipation of inflecting each and every one.
CHAPTER 45
ALIAH IS MOANING.ISENSEher movement, hear the cascade of glass from her body as she attempts to hoist herself up on her arms.
The biggest noise, however, comes from the other side of the island.I can’t see Sabera, only hear her sharp exhale, followed by a low moan, then a stream of guttural obscenities.
Beside me, Aliah stills, listening intently.
Our leering invader has drawn back.I don’t know whether to be grateful or insulted by his lack of interest.
Sabera is the key.They came for her; they want her.Standing on the other side of the counter, closest to the blown-out sliders, she would’ve been struck by the force of the first shot transforming the tempered glass to a hail of pebbles.Second shot went high, however, a sign they still wanted her alive?Because otherwise she would’ve made for an easy target.Just like Daryl.
I can hear her.A mix of tiny screams and fierce hisses, as one of the attackers drags her to her feet.She’s gotta be hurt, but she’s clearly still fighting.
It pisses me off.How dare these insurgents come here—this home, this city, this country.I don’t fucking care.They’re evil,awful men, destroying entire countries, subjugating generations of women and children.The outrage provides enough adrenaline to drive me to my feet.
I’m immediately sorry.
Daryl.To my left.His face is a mask of red, his torso a glittering pincushion of glass and buckshot.So much blood, a growing pool surrounding his body.I can barely stand the sight.
And Roberta, who’s still missing in action.What the hell did they do to Roberta?
My gaze lights upon Sabera, her arms wrenched behind her back as one of the men slides a knife around her ear, across her cheek, down her neck in a sickening imitation of a lover’s touch.
She’s shaking.Clearly terrified.And yet, the expression on her face…
She didn’t break the first time they had her.She has no intention of breaking now.
