Chapter 28
Adeya’s home sits on the far edge of the village.
The narrow street is quiet and empty except for the faint creak of wind against the shutters.
My pulse pounds in my throat as I step up to the door, worried I’m going to be met with the same sight as the village her daughter lived in.
Fear getting the better of me, I hesitate, and Chris knocks on the door.
“Wole,” a voice calls from the other side, inviting us to enter.
When I turn the knob, I nudge the door open. It’s heavier than I expect, the hinges groaning at the movement.
Adeya sits at the table, her attention on the book splayed before her, and hands folded tightly in her lap. She looks up when she hears my steps, and for a moment, I can’t find my voice.
“Reese,” she says softly, standing. “You come back.”
“Yes.” I nod, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat. She glances past me to Chris. I slip my hand into his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “He’s a friend.”
“Did you…” She fights the tremor in her voice. “Did you find her?”
“I did.”
Her lips part, and for a fleeting second, hope—both beautiful and devastating—flickers in her expression. I hate myself for being the one to destroy it.
I take a step closer, my voice breaking. “Adeya… she’s gone.”
Her knees give out before I can reach her. Chris catches her before she hits the floor, wrapping his arms around her shaking body as she lets out a sound that burns straight through me. It’s the kind of sound that doesn’t come from your throat, but from your soul.
“She didn’t run away,” I whisper, sinking to the floor and wrapping my arms around her.
Adeya’s tears soak Chris’s shirt. “They said she left… that she joined another camp.”
“She didn’t.” My voice cracks. “They killed her, Adeya. They killed all of them. The whole village”
Her sobs grow louder, and I can’t stop my own. My hand rubs circles against her back. It’s a useless and desperate attempt to ease her pain. There’s no comfort to give her with this devastation. Only truth.
After a long while, she leans back, wiping her face with trembling fingers. “Why?” she chokes out. “Why would they do this?”
I shake my head, still crying. “Because they could. Because someone wanted to ensure the pipeline was built, no matter the cost. They didn’t think anyone would find out.”
Her sharp and broken eyes find mine. “You’ll tell? Yes?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I promise, I’ll make them pay for what they did. For Nia. For everyone.”
Her hand grips mine, small and fragile but fierce. “Make them listen.”
“I will,” I swear, returning the squeeze. “I won’t stop until the world knows her name.”
We sit there for a while, hands clasped together, both of us lost in the wreckage of what they left behind. The wind howls through a crack in the window, carrying with it the faint smell of smoke and oil.
When I finally stand, Adeya follows me to the door. She presses a small beaded bracelet—handmade and worn from wear—into my hand.
“Nia made it,” Adeya shares quietly. “For protection.”
My throat tightens at her generosity. “Thank you.”
“Wear it to stay safe.” She slides it over my hand. “To remember her. To remember them all.”
I nod, unable to speak.
Outside, the light has started to fade, the air cooling as I make my way back to the Humvee. Chris stands beside it, one arm braced on the hood, eyes watching the horizon. He looks tired, but when he sees me, he straightens, scanning my face before gently taking my hand.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head. “Not even close.”
He squeezes my fingers firmly. “You did what you came here to do.”
“Not yet,” I whisper. “Not until this is over.”
His eyes soften. “It will be.”
I glance down at our joined hands, my thumb brushing his knuckles. “You really believe that?”
“I have to,” he replies. “For both of us.”
He opens the door and nods toward the passenger seat. “Come on. Let’s go home… wherever that may be.”
The word “home” snags on something deep inside me. I look at him—really look—and I can almost imagine what that might mean again.
I climb into the Humvee, still holding his hand. He reaches over me to fasten my seatbelt, pausing to place a chaste kiss on my lips.
Once behind the wheel, he starts the engine, the low rumble vibrating beneath us as he shifts into gear. We pull onto the road that cuts through the village, dust kicking up behind us. I stare out the window, watching the desert blur by.
As we pass through the tiny village a couple of miles from the base, a flash of movement from an alley catches my eye.
Something big. My breath hitches when my brain catches up, realizing it’s a truck.
A large, green military convoy truck comes barreling toward us from a side road.
“Chris—” I barely get his name out before it hits us.
The sound is deafening. Metal screams against metal. The Humvee rolls over repeatedly, tossing us around like rag dolls. My body slams against the door frame, and the seatbelt constricts painfully against my chest, air punching from my lungs. The windows shatter, and glass rains around us.
We hit the ground upside down with a bone-jarring stop. The world goes still except for the hiss of the engine and the ringing in my ears.
“Chris…” I gasp, painfully turning toward him. He’s slumped against the shattered window, blood trickling down his temple, his body frighteningly still.
“Chris!” My voice breaks. I stretch across the Humvee. Grabbing hold of his arm, I shake him hard. “Chris, wake up! Please!”
Nothing. Not a sound or movement. My heart splinters. “No, no, no…”
The taste of blood fills my mouth, and my head is pounding so hard I can barely think. I fumble for the seatbelt, finally releasing it. I fall awkwardly against the roof of the Humvee, and fragments of glass bite into my skin as my vision swims.
“Chris…” I whisper, brushing his cheek with shaking fingers. Still, he doesn’t move.
Outside, something thuds. Heavy boots shuffle against dirt, quickly making their way toward me. I twist, blinking through the blur, trying to focus on the figures. The footsteps grow louder. Dangerously closer.
Through the broken pane of my window, I see boots stopping just inches away. My pulse thrums in my ears. My head feels heavy. Too heavy.
A boot kicks the shattered window, and it explodes over me. The last thing I see before the darkness swallows me is a gloved hand reaching for me.