Page 108 of Rescuing You

Just thinking about her uncle had anxiety bubbling in her stomach. “He is not…normal. He is charming, I think, to those who don’t know him. But even in kindness, there is cruelty about him.”

Michael held her gaze as if searching for a lie. “Did he ever hurt you or your sister?”

“Nothing like that. When he was with us, it was like…like he brought a darkness with him. I think Baba would have let us live our lives as we chose, if not for Hasan. When Mama told me not to tell anyone that I’d become a Christian, it wasn’t Baba she feared, but Hasan. He is the younger brother by a few minutes, but in his cruelty and anger, he is more powerful. When my grandfather was alive, he had some sway over Hasan. But he died many years ago.”

“Did you see Hasan in the last few weeks? Was he at the compound?”

“The afternoon before you came, Hasan and Waleed arrived.”

“Waleed?” Michael asked.

He still wore the makeup that made him look like an old man, but she saw past that now. He was just Michael, the man she’d known and trusted for nine months.

“Waleed… Shehab?” he asked.

How did Michael know?

He must’ve seen her surprise because his eyes sparked with anger. “He was the man who tried to take you? The one who shot Splat? How do you know him?”

“How do you know him?”

“You first.”

“He is my uncle’s… I don’t know what to call him. Assistant, maybe. Waleed thinks everything my uncle does is good and worthy, and because he feels this way, my uncle thinks he is also good and worthy.”

“Waleed’s a sycophant.”

“What is…sycophant?”

“A flatterer. Someone who fawns on a superior, usually for selfish purposes.”

“I think, yes. A sycophant.” She repeated the word in her head to commit it to memory. “I don’t know how Waleed met my uncle or what he does, only that he has been at his side for many years, since he left school, I think.”

Michael tilted his head to one side. “Did you know him in school?”

She didn’t know how Michael guessed that. “He attended where Jasmine and I went.”

“You didn’t like him.” He must’ve seen that in her expression. “Why?”

“When I was eleven, there was a boy a year ahead of me. He was different, I think maybe with autism or…how do you say it? Maybe not fully autistic, but⁠—”

“On the spectrum?”

“Yes. He was socially…not adept. Waleed and his friends started picking on him one day. They surrounded him and were pushing him between them, calling him names.”

“Waleed was the same age as the boy?”

“He was six years older than I was, so five years older than the boy, and much bigger. Other kids just watched. I waited for somebody to stand up to him, but nobody did. I wanted to get a teacher, but there were none nearby. So I pushed my way into the middle of the circle and confronted him.”

Michael didn’t look shocked by that revelation. He looked angry.

“It was…very scary and very stupid.” Leila pressed a hand to her stomach, remembering the moment. “I was afraid. But I didn’t run. I stood between Waleed and the boy, stuck my hands on my hips, and looked up at him.”

“Way up, I assume.”

“He was tall, yes. And I was a child. I told him to leave the boy alone.”

She could still hear Waleed’s response. Or what? He’d been laughing, and his crowd of followers had too. What are you going to do? Glare me to death?