Page 80 of Rescuing You

Kind of Jasmine to try to make her feel better—cast her in a good light—but it didn’t make a difference. Probably not to Michael. Certainly not to Leila.

Because it was entirely possible that her mistake could cost them their freedom. Or their lives.

The tension between Leila and Michael didn’t lessen. About ten minutes after they left the hospital, Jasmine fell asleep in the passenger seat, making the silence in the car feel more oppressive. Leila wanted to say something to get her and Michael back to friendship at least—if not to the close relationship they’d enjoyed before. But she’d already apologized. What else could she say?

If her blunder got Michael killed and Jasmine recaptured, her paltry I’m sorry would be less than meaningless. It was no wonder Michael didn’t want to talk to her.

It was the middle of the night after a long, pressure-filled, terrifying day. How she wished she could rest, but she couldn’t quiet her thoughts. When she managed to take her mind off the foolish thing she’d done, terrifying memories assailed her.

Gunshots.

Guards.

Waleed.

Splat covered in blood, collapsing.

Please, let Michael’s friend be okay. Please, let him recover completely.

Get us out of this country and to safety. Please.

She didn’t deserve to be rescued. She knew that. But Jasmine did. And Michael had done nothing but help. And Splat…

She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to think of something else, anything else.

You will receive your punishment when you are mine.

Waleed’s words felt even darker now than when he’d spoken them. She’d sworn she would never be his, but would she have a choice?

Had she ever, or had the years of freedom only been a mirage? A slight hitch in a life that would never truly belong to her?

Marriage to Waleed would be a fair reward for her foolishness.

She deserved Michael’s scorn. She deserved Jasmine’s, too, though her sister would never offer anything but kindness.

Leila swiped at her tears and tried to pray as the world passed by the truck windows, pitch black and menacing.

An hour after they left Diyarbakir, a few scant streetlights told her they were approaching civilization, a town if not a city.

Michael said nothing as he turned into a gas station parking lot.

Beside him, Jasmine roused.

“Thought you could use a bathroom.” He spoke to Jasmine, then met Leila’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “You hungry?”

Was she? She couldn’t remember when she’d eaten last. She felt too heartsick to consider food.

Jasmine stretched. “I am.”

Michael parked at a pump. “Stay in the truck until I finish fueling.” He didn’t wait for a response, just climbed out and slammed the door.

Jasmine twisted in the seat to face her. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“I believe Splat is going to recover, and you and I are going to reach freedom." Jasmine spoke the words as if she had no doubt. "It is going to be all right.”

Leila wasn’t sure, but she didn’t say so. Nothing felt all right at that moment.