by Alessa Thorn
Ayla was dragged into a windowless room. The man who had snatched her hauled her up into a wooden chair and fastened her arms to it.
"Don't make this harder than it has to be, Doctor," he said, the door slamming behind him.
Ayla's eyes filled with tears as she wriggled and pulled against her bonds. She swallowed down her fear and tried to think.
Ayla knew little about her father, only that he had been a doctor and died when she was a baby. That's what her mother always used to tell her. She never remarried, and as Ayla got older, she stopped asking questions that only made her mother sad. If he was alive, which was impossible, why would her mother lie about it?
Ayla didn't know anything about the person that these men thought he was. She had to think about what else she could offer them to spare her because she didn't know about cocaine in Cairo.
You are so fucked, a small voice whispered, and Ayla began to panic.
An hour later, the door opened, and Ayla was dragged, chair and all, into the other room.
Five men were staring at her, heavily armed and marked with the same snake tattoo on their necks.
"You ready to talk yet, Doctor?" one asked. He pulled a knife from his belt, and Ayla jerked in her chair. Heavy hands pushed her shoulders down and pulled her head back.
"I'm telling you, I don't know anything about cocaine or the man you think is my father. I can't give you something that I don't have," she said. The cool flat of the blade was pressed to her cheek.
"Such a shame. This face is so pretty," the man hissed.
A heavy knock sounded at the door, and all five men tensed. Ayla let out a breath as the blade was taken away from her face.
"No one knows we are here, boss," one man said, looking nervously at the door.
"Check who it is."
The nervous man pulled out a gun and opened the door a crack. The weapon dropped from his hands as a knife was pressed under his chin. He backed up, and another man stepped through the door, kicking it closed behind him.
"Gentlemen, you have really fucked up tonight." The stranger was tall and powerfully built, with a neatly clipped beard and long hair tied back. Dressed in black and heavily armed, his golden gaze rested on Ayla, and the world went silent.
Power radiated from him, and Ayla suddenly knew that he was the true predator. The others were only playing.
The air seemed to suck out of the room as their gazes locked in a long, tense moment. The hair on the back of Ayla's neck rose as he took in the bruises on her face and frowned. He dragged his golden eyes from her to the man beside her.
"Do you idiots know who I am?" he asked in a deep growl.
"You're Set Akhom," a braver man answered. "I thought you were a myth." This seemed to amuse Set, who flashed a sharp smile.
"Good, so you know what I'm going to do to you if you don't give the doctor to me."
The leader of the group shifted behind Ayla and pressed his knife to her throat.
"Not going to happen, dog. I don't care who you think you are. Moussa will have his prize and take Cairo with it."
"Moussa is stupid to think he can win a war against Kader, and you know it."
Ayla went cold as the edge of the blade dug into her skin, and wetness dripped down her neck. Set's eyes glowed like those of a feral animal. A gun went off, and the knife fell away from her neck.
"Down!" Set shouted, and Ayla threw her body forcefully to the left, tipping the chair and hitting the floor hard. Hot blood that wasn't her own splashed down over her, and she screwed her eyes up tight.
Men were screaming, guns exploding. Then all went shockingly silent.
"It's over," Set said from beside her. He cut her hands free and lifted her to her feet.
Carnage was the only word that crossed Ayla's mind as she took in what remained of her kidnappers. Bile rose in her throat, and strong fingers gripped her chin, pulling her gaze up to the blood-splattered man in front of her.
"Don't look. Can you walk?" Set asked. Ayla nodded numbly. "Good, we need to get you out of here before the others arrive."
"Who the fuck are you?" she demanded.
Again, that too sharp smile flashed on his dark face as he took her hand. "Isn't it obvious? I'm your knight in shining armor."
3
Set had never been a knight in shining armor in his long life. He wasn't in the hero business, but he needed to put the doctor at ease enough to trust him.
That's not something you need her to do either.
He was surprised that he wanted her to feel safe with him.
Set had been late by mere minutes. The doctor's camp had been in an uproar by the time he arrived, and Ayla was gone.
It didn't take him long to track them to a shitty neighborhood in Aswan. He expected more from Moussa's men. He had planned to prevent a war by not killing them...and then he got his first good look at the doctor.
A photo hadn't done Ayla Neilos justice. Even dirty and sweaty with one cheek bruising, she was fascinating. The image hadn't captured the intensity of her big hazel eyes that felt like she had physically grabbed his guts and pulled hard.
Set hadn't been sucker-punched by destiny in a long time, but he knew it when he felt it. He had been a god of protection before a god of war, and this woman with a death sentence hanging over her head and full, utterly fuckable lips was about to become his number one priority. She just didn't know it.
For fucks sake, not now. Not her.
Set had been mentally scrambling right until the moment the bastard holding Ayla made her bleed. He suddenly didn't care about avoiding war and being diplomatic to ensure Cairo didn't become a battleground. That one drop of blood trickling down her throat had woken the sleeping monster.
Now the whole shitty apartment looked like a slaughterhouse.
Fucking pull yourself together. You're not out yet.
"Let me help," Set said. He picked Ayla up, carried her over the bloody piles of men to the front door, and placed her back down on a clean spot. "Stay close and behind me."
Set took her smaller hand in his, and she nodded. She looked pale but wasn't going into shock yet, which was a surprise.
In this part of Aswan, people had learned to look away when blood-stained people stumbled out of a building.
Set led them down side streets, eyes scanning the cars driving past, the people on the footpaths, constantly searching for anyone Moussa might have sent as backup. They would find the mess at the apartment soon enough and would be hunting both of them.
Let them come.
He was more than ready and wound up enough to really do damage.
"Where are we going?" Ayla whispered, dousing his fiery bloodlust.
"To a safe house, then I can figure out how to get you to Cairo in one piece," Set replied. He stopped at a market stall to buy her a scarf and tossed it to her. "Here, cover that blood on your shirt."
He knew that anyone around them would happily tell Moussa's serpents about the big mercenary and blood-stained woman.
Only a handful of Kader's people knew about the apartment in Aswan. There were safe houses scattered all over Egypt for his men to use for whatever business they had in the area. Set knew Ayla only had a certain amount of time left before the stress of the night got to her.
She's a doctor. Maybe she's used to it.
"We are almost there," he said, gruffly trying to reassure her. Sweat was starting to bead on her increasingly pale face.
Set checked the address on his phone again, and three streets later, they found the right building.
Inside, the narrow winding stairwell was littered with cigarette butts and smelled of cooking. Set opened the door and rested a hand on the small of Ayla's back, pushing her gently inside.
"Let me check the rooms," he said, locking the door behind them. He did a quick scan of each room, but a rattle at the door had him stepping back into the hall.
"You don't want to do that, doctor," he said. Ayla's hand froze on the deadbolt.
"For the time being, it's what's in your best interest. You don't think Moussa has men watching your camp? Or the apartment you're renting while you're here? You are a wanted woman, and you will die tonight if you leave here," Set replied, crossing his arms.
"And what makes me any safer with you? I don't know you! You killed all of those men!"
"Because I don't want you dead, Ayla. I'm going to protect you, and you might not like being stuck in here with me, but you'll like being tortured, raped, and murdered a lot less."
Ayla turned her back to him, rested her head against the door, and sobbed. Set would rather face an army alone than deal with a woman's tears.
"Why is this happening?" she whispered.
"Because of your father."
Ayla let out a choked laugh. "God, not you too. My father is dead."
"No, he isn't." Set had the disturbing impulse to bring her into his arms and comfort her.
Ayla turned, tear tracks down her dirty face. "Do you have a way to prove it?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Well?"
"I'll tell you, but only after you've had a shower and had something to eat. You'll feel calmer once you've washed the blood off," Set said, pointing to the bathroom door. "I'll find you some clothes. They will be men's, but they will be clean."
Ayla wiped at her cheeks and looked him dead in the eye. Again, he felt that clenching pull on his Ka, telling him that she was important and needed his protection.
"Can you promise me that I'm going to get out of this alive?" she asked.
"I can if you stay with me."
"You're just as much of a killer as those other men were."
Set laughed. "No, I'm so much worse. That's why you should be glad I'm on your side."
"I should be glad?" Ayla snapped, anger taking over. "I was just kidnapped, beaten, and almost killed for a man who is meant to be dead!"
"But you weren't because of me. The words you're searching for are 'thank you,' doctor."
Ayla glared at him, and damn if he didn't love that furious challenge in her eyes. She stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.
"New soap is in the top drawer," Set called, grinning when she called him an utterly filthy word.
Keep hold of that fire, doctor. You're going to need it.
A search of the apartment produced a clean t-shirt and a pair of jeans that Set placed outside of the bathroom door. The window in there was too small for anyone to get through, so he left her to it.
Set washed the blood off his arms and face in the kitchen sink. He needed to message Kader to reassure him he had Ayla. She had nothing of her father's looks at first glance, but he had seen the same kind of anger in her eyes.
When Kader got that look, Set knew he was about to kill a lot of people. Kader's anger inspired bloodlust. Ayla's fiery glare hit him...elsewhere.
Shit. You have no right to think about the boss's daughter that way. Especially a soft healer who cries.
Set had an unnatural weakness for things that were forbidden, and she certainly was. He could hope she was the kind of person who responded to threats to her life by fucking the nearest man senseless, but he doubted it. He didn't need this kind of distraction in his life.
Set splashed his face with water again and went to see what food they had. Maybe if he ate, it would calm down what she had woken in him, and he would be able to think clearly again.
4
Ayla had expected the safe house to be dirty like the place she had been held in, so she was surprised to find everything neatly organized and relatively clean. She locked the bathroom door behind her and tried to steady her heart rate.
The brute of a man in the other room could probably kick it down, but the lock made her feel better.
Ayla slowly took off her ruined clothes and, with a doctor's eye, checked her injuries. Bruises were blooming like purple flowers along her ribs, and her shoulder ached from slamming into the floor.
There was a bleeding cut in her hair, her cheek was swollen, and she had red and blue bracelets around her wrists from being tied.
Apart from that, all of her other wounds were psychological. In the basin mirror, her eyes looked back at her hollow and grieving expression.
My father is alive. Set said he could prove it and seemed like he was willing to convince her. Who was her real father if it wasn't the man in her locket?
That wasn't what hurt her the most. Her mother, the only person she had really loved and trusted, had lied to her for her thirty-two years of life.
Was it because her real father was some kind of a drug dealer? That was the last kind of person she imagined her gentle-natured mother being involved with.
It's hardly the first time she lied to you about something, is it? Ayla pushed the voice down. She could deal with only one emotional crisis at a time.
Ayla searched the cupboards and found sealed packets of soap, shampoo, and other toiletries. It took a while for any hot water to come through and felt like heaven when it did.
Ayla hugged herself, rubbing her arms, trying to get warm as the shock she had been pushing back finally hit her. Tears rushed out of her, and she gripped the cool tiled walls to keep upright.
She hated feeling so powerless. All of the training she had done in case she was snatched while working in war zones meant absolutely fucking nothing when faced with the real thing. She hadn't been given a chance to fight back, to use anything she had learned.
If it wasn't for Set...she didn't want to think about it. Violent, powerful energy vibrated off him, and as much as Set scared her, she didn't feel like he was a threat to her.
Knight in shining armor, my ass.
She had met soldiers with hero complexes, and he certainly wasn't one of them. Set wasn't just a mercenary. He was a killer.
Ayla thought of the piles of bodies they had left behind them. Then she remembered the warm hand that had gently pulled her face away from the sight of the massacre before he carried her in his arms so she didn't get blood on her shoes. Confusing didn't even begin to describe her night or the man that was now protecting her.
When she finally felt like she had gotten herself back together, Ayla dried off and opened the door a crack. She grabbed the clothes left for her and quickly locked the door again.
After washing her bra and underwear in the sink, Ayla hung them over a towel rack and hoped they would be dry by morning. She didn't particularly like the idea of not wearing any or having Set seeing them drying, but she didn't have much choice. She dressed in the borrowed clothes that swam on her.
"You can get through this," Ayla told herself. She combed out her wet curls and opened the bathroom door.
Set was in the kitchen, cooking something that smelled good enough to make her stomach grumble.
"I made tea if you want some," he said without turning around.
"Thanks," she replied and poured herself a steaming cup. She slid onto a chair at the small table and sipped. It was mint and tasted good, the heat spreading to the cold parts inside of her. She didn't know where to start, so she said nothing, just watched him moving about.
A killer who cooks. Could the night get any stranger?
"Not my best koshari, but I had to work with what we had," Set said, setting a steaming bowl in front of her. He topped up her tea before joining her.
"I can't cook, so any food is good food," Ayla replied before having a spoonful. "Definitely better than what I can do."
Set smiled. "It'll do. If we get out of this alive, I'll cook properly for you one night."
"If you get me out of this alive, I might just agree to that," she replied, surprising herself. She was clearly more traumatized than she thought.
"It's a deal," Set replied. He sipped his tea, watching her through the steam with his predator gold eyes.
"You are calmer than I thought you would be," h
e admitted after a while.
"I had my breakdown in private." Ayla pushed some rice around her plate. "And you're right. I'm kind of stuck with you until whatever is happening stops. I'd like to know what is happening. I have showered and eaten, so tell me the truth."
"Your father's name is Kader Ayad. He runs a large operation out of Cairo," Set said without hesitation.
"Operation. Illegal, I'm assuming. Those men asked me about his cocaine."
"Illegal is kind of a relative term in Egypt, and you know it. He would call himself a businessman, but he is a gangster, for lack of a better word. His rival is a man named Moussa Omar. He found out about you somehow and wants to use you to get Kader to hand Cairo over to him."
Ayla shook her head slowly. "That's ridiculous. Kader doesn't even know me. If he is a criminal, I doubt he would hand over anything for a woman he's never met."
"He kept tabs, though." Set placed his phone down in front of her. There was a picture of her with a group of children taken in Sudan last winter.
"How did he get this?" Ayla asked.
Set shrugged his big shoulders. "No idea. Kader kept you a secret from me and everyone else."
"So how did Moussa know about me?"
"An excellent question. One that I want to know the answer to," Set said, his expression changing to one of cold violence. Ayla glanced away and spotted blood dripping out from under his sleeve.
"Set, you're hurt," she said, the doctor taking over. "Let me have a look at it."
Ignoring his protests, Ayla searched the kitchen cupboards, coming up with a first aid kit, and wet a clean cloth.
"It's nothing. I heal fast," Set insisted.
"Roll up your sleeve. I'll decide if it's nothing," she said stubbornly.
Set gave her an amused look before pushing up his black sleeve. He had wrapped a scrap of cloth around the wound. Ayla untied it to reveal a gash that was bleeding steadily.
"I told you it was nothing."
Ayla ignored him, wrapping the wet towel around it. "I hope you didn't bleed into that koshari I just ate."
