It was too late to go home, though. He’d been on this path of destruction too long. There was no home to return to, no soft pleasures awaiting him. There was only Sarai, and he couldn’t let her down. He didn’t trust Ian Foster, or anyone associated with the American authorities, to help her. They wouldn’t give her asylum. They’d use her to get to him, and then throw her to the wolves.
He refused to let that happen. His mission in life was to secure a future for his daughter, and he was willing to fight for this cause. He was ready to kill for it too. Anyone who got between him and Sarai would pay the price.
Before he logged off, he wrote a few more lines.
I’m leaving right now. I’ll check my messages again tomorrow.
Then he typed and deletedI love you, over and over again. It wasn’t like him to get emotional, even in writing. He’d told her how he felt in that letter. Here, it seemed overly sentimental. He didn’t want a Facebook IM to be their last communication. But what if it was, and he never got the chance to say those words in person?
He was about to hit send when his thirty-minute session timed out, making the decision for him. He stared at the blank screen, his nostrils flaring. An impotent rage coursed through him. He wanted to upend the table, throw the computer on the floor, smash some shit to pieces.
Instead he got up and left.
