by Kishan Paul
“The queen has risen,” the kidnapper said in an amused voice.
Fear gripped her throat. When she shifted, she noticed her legs and arms were not restrained. She kept a hand near the tender spot on her head and pulled herself up. A man sat two rows ahead in the driver’s seat, guiding the vehicle down the highway. She turned to face the one situated beside her. “Where are we going?”
He shrugged and pulled out his phone. “Somewhere.”
Ally’s gaze fixed on the van’s sliding doors a few feet from her.
“Before you get any ideas, they’re locked, and I brought a friend.” He patted the gun in his lap.
Memories of Farah and the video played in her head, and with them came the one question she still had no answer to. “What do you want?”
“For you to shut up.” He dialed a number. A moment later, a man’s muffled greeting could be heard on the other end. “She’s awake.” When his eyes locked with Ally’s, he slid away from her and covered the receiver with his hand. “She’s fine but talks too much.” The kidnapper nodded at whatever the man said. “Will do. Just do your part and I’ll do mine.” A second later, he turned the phone off. “He said to tell you if you don’t shut up I get to pick which of your friend’s body parts he will cut off first.” He winked. “I’m thinking a nipple. She only needs one to feed her baby anyway.”
The next few hours passed in silence. She spent most of it staring out the tinted window, watching the world fly by. A world she might never see again. Her family back in Philadelphia filtered into her thoughts. They’d endured so much because of her. Thoughts of all they’d done for her the past few months, the sacrifices they’d made to help her heal, sent wave after wave of regret flowing through her. After everything they’d gone through, losing her a second time would crush them. The voices in her head continued. One whispered, what if all she did was for nothing? Instead of saving the ones she loved, what if they ended up dead? She ignored the voice and imagined a better story. A tale in which Eddie followed close behind. Waiting in the shadows for them to lead him to Farah and the baby.
The kidnapper shifted in his seat. His head rested against the windowpane, and his eyes remained closed. The gun still in his lap with most of its grip and the trigger covered under his hand. His fingers flexed and knuckles cracked. His way of letting her know he noticed and would pounce if she gave him a reason. There was no doubt in her mind he would kill her and enjoy the process.
The car pulled into a tiny airport. Other than the handful of large, gray plane hangars looming along the edge of the runway, the area appeared deserted. The perfect place to lock someone away. She scanned them, searching for signs of the young mother and child.
They parked in front of a small white jet on the runway. A thin metal staircase led up to the cabin of the plane. The man stabbed the gun into her side, making her jump. “You have a couple of options. Run and we can play a fun game of Hide and Seek. Who knows?” He looked her over. “You might do such a good job of hiding, you’ll get out of here. If so, remember the widow and baby will pay. Or go up the ladder into the jet.”
A thin bead of sweat formed along her hairline and dripped down the back of her neck. Her damp hands curled into the leather of the seat.
“Understood?”
She nodded.
The driver jogged around to Ally’s side and slid open the van’s door. The man beside her shoved the metal barrel against her a second time. This time it rammed into her shoulder blade, leaving her breathless and jerking her forward. “Now go.”
Ally climbed out on unsteady feet and scanned the area. A breeze slapped against her skin. The tender area on her scalp pulsed each time she turned her neck. She kept a hand on the spot and surveyed her surroundings. The small runway appeared deserted except for the private jet parked in front of her and the hangars in the distance. She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and moved toward the jet.
He grabbed her arm and gave it a painful squeeze. “Smart choice.” The man propelled her to the steps. “Let’s go.”
Leather and wood paneling lined the interior of the jet. Individual armchairs and tables were scattered along the spacious cabin. Beside each seat were individual television screens. He grinned as Ally took it all in. “Pretty fancy, isn’t it? And it’s all for you.” He waved his gun along the aisles. “Pick a seat.”
Her feet stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move until the kidnapper gave her a shove. She slid into the one closest to the exit watching him text with one hand and carry the gun in the other. “Buckle up, sweetheart. You know the rules.”
His cell dinged. After he read the message, he grabbed the television and swiveled it to face her. “It seems we have some in-flight entertainment.”
Farah and her baby flashed on the screen. She wore a simple, pale blue tunic with matching pants. She cradled the diapered child against her chest and looked at the camera. It wasn’t the baby or the room that captured Ally’s attention. It was the mother’s eyes, and the way she trembled as if pleading for help. Ally touched the screen, aching to ease Farah’s pain. All those nights they spent together in the compound. The same look she’d seen back then in the face of a sixteen-year-old girl was still alive five years later on the woman she’d become. Back then, it had been a younger Farah, huddled in a ball on the floor, rocking as her body shook.
The kidnapper dropped a plastic bag of white powder and a bottle of water on the table in front of her. “Open your mouth so I can give you your in-flight snack.”
The sight of it sent a chill through her. Ally sealed her lips and shook her head.
He grinned and picked up the bag, waving it. “Don’t worry, we didn’t go through all this trouble to kill you…yet. Since you’re going solo on this flight, we need you to take a little nap so you’re not wandering around trying to kill the pilot.”
She eyed the powder. “I don’t need it. I won’t be going anywhere or killing anyone.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. The sight of it made her stomach twist. He shrugged and made a call. “Your passenger is refusing her snack.” He winked at Ally and nodded as he listened to the person on the other line. A second later, he pointed at the television. “He said to keep watching.”
Ally’s lungs transformed into cement blocks when the black screen turned yellow. Farah lay asleep with a protective arm wrapped around the sleeping infant beside her. A shadow fell across the bed. Unable to breathe much less look away, Ally’s heart pounded, trying to leap out of her body. She leaned forward, watching a man in a ski mask approach the peaceful pair.
The sleeping mother’s eyes popped open, and she fixed her gaze on the intruder. Terror flashed across Farah’s face. She pulled the baby to her chest and rose.
“No,” Ally whispered. A trickle of sweat slid down her neck. She squeezed the armrests, fixated on the screen. There was no audio, but from the way the mother shook her head and mouthed her words, she was pleading with the man.
Farah clutched her baby and slid back to the farthest corner of the bed; her child’s arms and legs waved as she pressed its tiny body against hers. He grasped the baby’s legs. Mother and monster played a game of tug of war for the child as Farah continued to cry and plead with him.
A nauseating burn built deep inside Ally’s stomach. “Make him stop,” she pleaded. “Please.”
The kidnapper positioned the phone so the person on the other end could hear them. “Open your mouth and I will,” the man on the other end responded.
With a final yank, the stranger stole the baby away. Ally cried out at the sight of Farah falling headfirst to the floor. The mother lifted herself up and ran in the direction of the man and her baby, everyone disappearing from the screen.
Emotion streaked Ally’s cheeks. She parted her lips while her eyes remained glued to the empty bed and crumpled sheet on the floor. The plastic opening of the bag brushed against her lips and soon the burn of the bitter powder exploded on her tongue. He cupped her chin and tipped
her head back, pouring water into her mouth. Ally gagged as the potent mixture continued its burn down her throat.
“Swallow,” he ordered.
She forced the mixture down her throat and returned her focus to the screen, hungry to see mother and child reunited.
“Good job.” He patted her head.
Farah sat on the bed, alone. The young mother hugged her knees to her chest and rocked through her sobs.
Through the receiver, the distant sounds of a baby’s cries pierced Ally’s ears. “I did what you said,” she yelled for the person to hear. “Give her the child.”
The man beside her pointed at the screen and mouthed the word “Watch.”
Farah looked up, a mixture of joy and relief washed across her face. She ran off the screen. Ally swallowed the bitter after-taste of the drug and waited. When the mother reappeared, her baby lay in her arms.
A tear crept from Ally’s eye. Farah smothered the tiny face with kisses. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
The ripping of tape filled the cabin. “Why the fuck would I care?” He growled as he restrained her hands to the armrest. “Make yourself comfortable. Once the powder kicks in, you’ll fall fast asleep.” He grinned. “And don’t worry, we’ll be together again soon.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
GOOD-BYE
DAY ONE POST-DAVID
Ally sat beside the hospital bed, her fingers twined through David’s. She ached to crawl onto the mattress, lay beside him, and rest her cheek on his chest. Habits that were once every-day occurrences were now dreams, which would never again come true. She stayed rooted in her seat, staring at his face, memorizing every feature. The little brown mole on the edge of his right earlobe. The faint hint of lines had formed in the past few years around the corners of his lips. How his thick, brown lashes appeared even darker against the pale hue of his cheek. She ached to see his eyes. In the right light, specks of gold sparkled in those green orbs.
The people who showed up at her door to tell her the news? She hadn’t let them in; her sister and brother-in-law had done the honors. Jerry and the officers sat down with them. Reya kept her arms wrapped tight around Ally while the men explained the fatal accident and how, for reasons they didn’t understand, David stopped his car in the middle of the road.
“Basilar skull fracture,” Jerry explained. “The force of the collision made the fibers inside his brain stem snap. His death was instantaneous. It’s doubtful he felt any pain.”
His words were meant to ease her agony but they did nothing. Too numb to speak, Ally clung to her sister as she silently screamed to herself to wake up from the horrendous dream she was having. Thankfully, Reya and Parker did all the talking. They asked the questions. They drove her to the hospital, made the calls. All she needed to do was say good-bye.
She pulled his still warm palm to her mouth, silently begging him to look at her. To stretch those beautiful lips into the smile he saved for her and her alone. To feel his arms wrap around her and pull her close—just one more time. For him to laugh his deep rumble of a laugh. The kind that reverberated through her when her cheek lay on top of his chest. In his arms, she was safe from all the evils in the world. Not a soul could touch her. She was loved.
The heavy crater in her chest where her heart once beat for him pulsed with an overwhelming pain. It choked the breath out of her. She gritted her teeth and wiped her wet cheek against the back of his hand. For the very last time, he’d dry her tears.
It didn’t make sense. Why did he stop in the middle of the road? Ally shook the thoughts from her head. Right now, she needed to focus on him. All that mattered was she could still touch him for a little while longer. She kissed against his knuckles and swallowed down the sob threatening to consume her. She had time to figure out the truth, a lifetime to fall apart, and would do both. Just not now, not when this moment with him would be her last.
With his hand still pressed against her lips, she filled her lungs with a deep, calming breath saturated with the scent of his cologne. He looked peaceful, like he was dreaming about something beautiful. Maybe about the two of them together, somewhere far away from the world.
She willed it all to be a dream. An ugly dream. But any time the question of whether he was really dead entered her mind, her gaze wandered to the bandage wrapped tight around his forehead, the beeping of the machines, and the rhythmic flow from the ventilator keeping him alive until the transplant doctors arrived to take pieces of him away.
Ally leaned over and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth as she’d done a thousand times in the past couple of hours. There were other things she’d done in the past few hours, too. She’d begged for her own death, silently screaming for an end she knew wouldn’t come. For some reason, the universe chose to ignore those requests. Life had become some sort of perverse joke, slowly and painfully taking away the ones she loved, and by doing so, stealing parts of her soul. But this time, it took more than a part. It took everything. Her rock. Her hero.
Why him? Why not her? Why was it never her?
A hand gripped her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Through the fog of her pain, she felt her mother-in-law’s lips against her cheek. His parents had finally arrived to say good-bye. Somewhere in the room, the grief of the others had become white noise. Ally ignored them all. Nothing and no one was more important than being with him. Which was for the best. She had nothing to offer them. Her everything was lying before her—never to return.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE HOTEL
FOUR MONTHS POST-DAVID
Somewhere in the distance, a faint echo broke through her silent slumber. A voice, a man’s, heavy with an English accent. He repeated the same words over and over. “Sara Bhaabi, wake up.” Instead of doing as commanded, she turned her face and fell back into the darkness.
“How much did you fucking give her?” He penetrated her silence again. This time he sounded angry. “Directions were on the bag. If she doesn’t fucking wake up…”
Ally retreated to her peaceful abyss, pushing it all out of her head.
Bright lights flowed through the thin membrane of her lids, invading the darkness. She rested her arm over her face, attempting to block their entrance. The constant shrieking of car and truck horns was harder to ignore. When she rolled onto her side, satin sheets caressed her skin. She stretched her legs and smiled at how relaxed her muscles felt. She opened her eyes, and stared ahead at the enormous window spanning most of the wall. Gold drapes covered the view, and a red upholstered couch sat in front of the fabric.
Ally pressed her cheek into the soft pillow, waiting for David to wrap his arm around her and pull her close, spooning her back to his front. Somewhere in the distance, a horn louder than the rest blared as if telling her she was wrong for wanting him. She paused mid-stretch when the tender area on the back of her head shot ripples of pain through her. Her muscles tightened as the cause of the wound floated into her consciousness. Germany and the kidnapper who’d knocked her out cold. Soon other memories flooded her: The sleeping powder he made her swallow. Farah and her baby. And then David. She stayed rigid, her heart racing, staring at the golden drapes of a foreign land in front of her.
Someone spared no expense to bring her here. Someone male with a deep English accent. The mattress shifted beside her. Ally sat up and looked around the room, not ready to face the figure seated next to her. A dark wood table sat against the wall and next to it a mini refrigerator and dresser. Rich cherry wood paneled the walls of the room. She grabbed handfuls of the satin sheets and rested her gaze on the man seated in the red armchair beside her bed. His long legs stretched out on her bed. The lightest brown eyes she’d ever seen stared back at her in amusement. Brown curls crowned his head and fell loose below his ears. His elbows were planted on the armrests of the chair and his chin rested on the tips of his long, steepled fingers. When their eyes locked, he grinned.
“I hope you slept well.”
The sound of him sent shivers up th
e length of her spine. She tugged at the blanket, not for warmth but to hide the way she shook. In doing so, Ally noticed the unfamiliar, over-sized black tee covering her body and realized she wore nothing beneath it. “Where are my clothes?”
The shadow of a faint beard darkened around the corners of his mouth when his grin widened. “You got sick in flight.” He tipped his head at the dresser beside him. “They are here. Cleaned and pressed.”
Her grasp on the blanket tightened while her mind screamed to run, but she stayed still. He was well over six feet tall and, from the way his muscles flexed under his snug shirt, much stronger than her. The stranger also had something she wanted: Farah and the baby.
Ally cleared her throat and steadied her voice. “Who changed my clothes?”
He raised his brows while the corner of his mouth twitched as if fighting the urge to laugh. “Me.”
She grabbed a pillow and wrapped it around her, eliciting an eye roll from the man who watched her every move. “Trust me, there was nothing attractive about peeling vomit-soaked clothing from your skin.” He scrunched his nose. “Let’s not even mention the smell. I highly recommend a shower, by the way.”
Ally hung her feet over the bed and, with a hand on the mattress for support, carefully stood. Relief flooded her as soon as she took a step. The room did not spin, and her legs easily carried her weight. She rolled her shoulders back, facing her kidnapper. “I’m here.”
Thick brows rose. “Yes, you are.”
“Let Farah and the baby go.”
His smile broadened. “Are you saying you will not bathe until I do? Because it might be the most convincing argument I’ve heard yet.”
