Chapter 26
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When she came to, she was tied to a chair.
Her shoulders screamed in pain from being tied for so long—who knew for how long? It was hard to tell at first. There was only darkness and more darkness outside the windows.
She forced herself to sit up straighter. The zip ties around her wrists were tight. So tight they cut into her flesh.
The cabin was silent except for the sound of the ticking clock. Four in the morning. Only now did she notice Haris across from her, half in shadow.
“I’m sorry, Hena.”
He said it so sincerely, she wanted to laugh. Except, of course, there was nothing remotely humorous about this situation.
A wave of nausea passed over her. Her head felt woozy—from the impact of his blow, or from the drugs he’d laced her water with, she couldn’t be sure.
She pushed back a sob. The guests might or might not believe Haris’s planted whispers, but her mother certainly wouldn’t.
Neither would Khala. Would it matter, though?
When enough people said a thing was true, it became true, didn’t it?
“You don’t have to do this,” she said. “You can let me go. I won’t say anything. We could pretend this never happened. I swear.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
He walked closer. Sat down on the chair near her. Resting his elbows on his knees, he gave her an admiring look.
“The way you fought, I can’t deny you have your father’s fire,” he said. “I think he was right about us. We could have been an unstoppable team.”
She looked at his self-pitying expression. As though, despite the facts of the matter—Hena tied up as she was, awaiting her own death—she should be the one comforting him.
It sparked a memory.
Her mother cowering before her father after he’d beaten her.
It was a common enough occurrence. Ammi half crumpled on the floor, and that particular moment when he was in the crossroads between remorse and rage.
Where the direction of what he chose to do was open.
She remembered how her mother spoke to him.
As though he were a wounded beast. She soothed him.
Made it seem as though his violence was understandable.
Inevitable. She promised to not push him to anger again.
She said what she needed to say so that she—they—could survive another day.
An idea formed. It might not work. But what did she have to lose? She took a deep breath and channeled her mother. In those perilous moments, Ammi focused on the truth. Because it was hard to call bullshit on what was real. So Hena focused on that. The real.
She surveyed the cabin. The worn kitchen cabinets. She thought of her parents’ photo tucked away in the drawer. Her father had been dead for thirteen years, but Haris still held on to that picture.
“You must have come here often with my father,” she said.
He was silent for a moment, his attention fixed on the view outside the window.
“The first time, I was fourteen,” he said.
Fourteen. “Oh, Haris,” she said softly.
“It was an overnight job. Two men. Your father needed someone he could trust.”
Hena studied his profile. She’d known him at fourteen. The kid playing football with the other boys. Shooting hoops. Laughing as though he didn’t have a care in the world. But it wasn’t true. He had been carrying a lot. More than she could have imagined.
“That must have been terrifying,” she said.
“It was a bad day.” His gaze lingered on a spot by the sofa, covered by a rug spread over the hardwood. “I hated this place at first. But over time, it became a second home. I grew to understand your father. Why he did the things he did.”
“I’m not sure there’s ever a good reason to kill someone,” Hena said.
“When people betray you, sometimes you have to do what needs doing. Your father took no joy in it, but he valued loyalty. Rewarded it. I’m proof. My dad lost his job, and we were weeks from losing our home. Your father stepped in. He saved us.”
“What if my father were here right now?” she asked. “If he were looking down on us, what would he say about the situation you and I find ourselves in?”
He flinched at her words. Slowly, he shook his head.
“I won’t bullshit you, he’d be pretty fucking pissed. No one messed with his family. It was part of the appeal of joining his family.” He broke off. “That’s why this is so hard to do.”
Looking at his torn expression, she gave him a wistful smile. “Did you know you were my first kiss?”
He didn’t reply. A tear slid down her face.
“That was a bad night,” she said. “My mother dragged me to that party. Everyone either pretended it hadn’t happened or clutched me to them and sobbed, making his loss all about them.
I was trying to stay strong for Lulu, but I broke down on that bench.
And you. You were there for me. The only one who actually cared. ”
“I knew what you had lost. I’d lost him too.”
“I had no idea.”
“No one did,” he said. “Officially speaking, I folded linens at his Miramar hotel. When I saw you that night…”
“It was a good first kiss.”
He looked at her, bemused. Like he was wondering what she was up to.
“I mean it,” she insisted. “You don’t forget your first kiss.”
“I never forgot either,” he said. “I’d had this whole plan in my head. To honor your father’s wishes. Then, poof, Nasir came and fucked it all up.”
“I blame myself,” Hena said. “I should have seen it. I should have seen it when we kissed. I should have seen it when you’d drive me home from the parties and concerts Nasir didn’t want to leave.
I should have seen it during all those late-night conversations.
When you made me lattes and watched my favorite rom-coms with me. I should have known.”
His jaw twitched.
“You couldn’t,” he said. “Because of Nasir.”
“Because of Nasir. He’s a force of nature. I got swept up.”
“I spent my whole life playing second fiddle to him.”
“We know how well Nasir worked out for me,” she said. “All he did was cause me endless pain. You? You’re the one who’s always there when someone needs you.”
His chair scraped against the floor as he moved closer. So close she could feel his breath against her face. The smell of grass and pine on his jacket.
“What are you trying to do?” he asked her.
“Nothing. Just thinking about what could have been.”
“Right.” He scoffed. “You rejected me. Outside, on the deck. Do you think I forgot?”
“I didn’t reject you.” When he laughed, she doubled down.
“I said I cared about you. I said it was complicated. I said I’d been through a lot and needed a minute.
I won’t lie, Haris. I’m pretty fucking upset because it didn’t have to come to this.
You could have told me about your bond with my father.
All you did for him. For my family. You never gave me a chance. ”
“You’re right. You deserved the truth. I should have seen how you would’ve handled it. What’s that saying about hindsight?”
“Haris.” She locked eyes with him. “You don’t want to kill me.”
“Of course I don’t,” he said. “But it’s too late.”
“You make the call, don’t you? You decide what comes next.
You want my legacy. But you also want me.
I can’t predict the future—we have a lot we’d need to unpack to move forward, and I can’t make any promises.
But there’s a chance you could have both.
Do you want to live with regret about what could have been? ”
“Like you’ll ever forgive this.”
Hena’s voice shook with emotion. “You know my capacity to forgive. I forgive to a fault. I forgave Nasir over and over again without any benefit to myself. What I’m offering benefits us both. If you can move past this, so can I. I’m a pragmatist. You know the man who raised me.”
She searched his face, wondering if her words had landed at all. For a split second she saw a flash of doubt cross his expression. Just as quickly, he stood up. Frowned.
“You’ll say whatever you need to get out of this.”
“Of course I want to get out of this. My wrists are killing me, Haris. That doesn’t mean what I’m saying isn’t true.”
“So I untie you, and we live happily ever after?” He rolled his eyes.
“You untie me and we talk. We have a real conversation. We see where it takes us. We’ve always been good at talking, right?”
He didn’t reply. Was the air shifting between them? Or was it just her foolish hope? Was it possible he was tempted? Hena knew all too well how fast rationality could fly out the window when feelings were involved.
“You won’t run as soon as I let you go?” Haris asked.
Hena looked into his light brown eyes. This man who had comforted her. Who’d held her hand after she’d lost Nasir and let her cry on his shoulder. The man who’d stood by her side for years. The man who wanted to murder her. She told him the truth.
“I’m tired of running, Haris,” she said. “I’m tired of betrayal. I want peace. I think in the long run, that’s what you might be able to give me.” She held his gaze. “You’re not perfect, but I see who you can be.”
The silence stretched interminably. He was debating. Warring within himself. Hena’s heart hammered in her chest.
Haris walked toward the front door, the floorboards creaking with each step.
A leaden feeling lodged in her chest. He didn’t believe her.
Of course he didn’t. He was going to sit in his car.
Wait for dawn without having to hear her incessant pleas.
Or maybe he’d grab his gun from his pocket and end this once and for all.
His hand rested on the doorknob. Then he paused. His gaze dropped. Shaking his head, he walked back toward her.
Wordlessly, he kneeled. His fingers brushed her wrists. He pulled a silver blade from his pocket and sliced through the tie. The tension in her shoulders released.
He held out his hand, helping her up. Hena took it, giving it a gentle squeeze. She hoped he couldn’t tell how hard she was trying to keep her hands from shaking.
“Betray me and you will regret it,” he told her.
She met his eyes. “Then don’t give me a reason to.”
He cracked a smile at this. Reaching out, he tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “I know it’ll take a minute. We have a lot of trust to rebuild,” he said. “But if we can get there, it could be amazing.”
“I agree.” She forced a smile.
Her hands were free. But she wasn’t safe. Not yet. It was one thing to survive this moment. This night, if she was lucky.
How would she survive all that was to come?
She pressed her hand to her throbbing temple. Haris watched her sympathetically.
“You look beat. It’s the medicine,” he said. “It’ll take a few more hours to clear. I’m surprised you’re upright, honestly.”
Perfect. She’d tell him she was too tired to think straight. She’d pretend to sleep the next few hours away until Lucinda arrived. Until the next part of this nightmare unfolded. It would give her time to figure out what to do next.
“You should lie down. The bed looks uncomfortable, but it’s cozy once you’re in it.”
The bed?
His voice was smooth and low. The way he looked at her…
There was no way she was going into that bedroom.
“I’m not sleepy,” she managed to say.
“You’re trembling like a leaf.” His hand pressed against the small of her back. “We don’t want you to crash. I insist.”
“I think—”
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay with you,” he said. Despite her protests, he was nudging her gently but decisively toward the bedroom. “Just until the meds wear off. Make sure you’re all right.” A pause. “I promise, I’ll be a gentleman.”
Her stomach lurched as she took him in. The heat behind his eyes.
Was this the real reason he’d untied her?
And what came next? Would he simply dispose of her come morning? Or operate like her father, who kept her unwilling mother in line by laying a threat to Khala’s life—a threat so potent she’d toed the line for nearly two decades?
Hena’s breath grew shallow. She had to stall. She needed a way out of this. She opened her mouth to speak. To say something. Anything.
But the words stuck in her throat.
She saw it then: the gun.
It had been in his pocket, but now it rested an arm’s length away on the kitchen island. Had he taken it out once he’d tied her up? Had he forgotten it was there? Or was this a test?
Her eyes flicked to the gun—only for a second, but long enough for him to follow the path of her eyes.
“A gun? Really, Haris?” she asked before he could say anything. “Is this some kind of game? You let me go, only to…what? Hunt me down?”
“What? Hena. It’s not for you. Promise.” His expression softened. “I always have a gun on me. It’s best to be safe.”
This could be her only chance.
There was a brief beat of silence.
Then she lunged, her hands closing around it as he reached for her.
She twisted away from him. Leveled it at his chest.
His hands rose. He backed away.
Which meant it was loaded.
“Don’t move,” she said. “Or I shoot.”