Page 145 of Rescuing You

“Lies!” Waleed punched Leila in the stomach.

Sharp and shocking, it would’ve doubled her over if Waleed hadn’t held her against the wall. Her legs jerked up, coming out from under her, but Waleed tightened his hold.

She scrambled to stand lest he snap her neck.

“I’ll kill her. I swear to Allah⁠—”

“The man was CIA,” Jasmine shouted. “He’d been watching Khalid. That’s how he found us.”

What? Jasmine hadn’t known that, had she?

Jasmine’s words were close to the truth, though it was possible she wasn’t aware of that as she spun a story.

The room was getting darker. Closing in.

The pain…the pain was exquisite, narrowed to two small spots on Leila’s neck until nothing existed but that place where thumb and forefinger squeezed, squeezed her windpipe.

Now, Lord. Take me now. To Yourself. To Michael. Please…

Suddenly, Waleed let her go.

She collapsed on the floor, her legs too weak to stop her fall.

She drew in a breath of the stale, rank air and thanked God for it. Her throat still felt tight, too small.

Jasmine crawled close and leaned over her, brushing her hair away from her face. “Are you⁠—?”

But Jasmine gasped—and was gone.

Leila tried to focus on what was happening, but the world was still dark and blurry.

“I should kill you.” Waleed seemed angrier and more dangerous than she’d ever heard him.

“But you will not.” Jasmine’s voice was no longer afraid. She sounded confident. “If you hurt me, you could hurt him. And he will kill you.”

What?

Leila’s throat screamed in pain. Her ankle ached where she’d fallen.

And she was confused.

The lack of oxygen must’ve affected her because her sister made no sense. Leila had no belief that Jasmine’s crazy claim would change anything.

But Jasmine knelt beside her again. She lifted Leila’s head and shoulders onto her lap, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “It’s going to be all right. God is with us.”

Was He?

Leila wasn’t sure anymore. She wasn’t sure about anything. Because the world was fuzzy and her throat was throbbing and her sister was confident and Michael was dead, and nothing made any sense at all.

Waleed spoke to the guards in low tones by the door.

Leila didn’t even try to listen. She hurt too much to care what they said.

Most of the guards left, their pounding footsteps on the staircase fading until the door slammed three stories below.

Waleed, the young driver, Jasmine, and Leila stayed in that disgusting fourth-floor room for ten more minutes before making their way back down the stairs. Unlike on the way up, this time, Jasmine supported her.

She still felt weak as a newborn, every breath burning, her ankle throbbing—she must’ve twisted it when she fell, though she hadn’t felt that over the desperate need to breathe. She was grateful for every inhale of the acrid air.