by Amber Bardan
My Haithem—indestructible—defeated.
I closed my eyes, and rested my face where my fingers had been. Listened to the thud of his chest, normally so steady, now a gallop.
Not as fast as mine.
No matter what he said, together felt safer. He’d sacrifice everything for me. Put everything he’d worked toward on the line. I couldn’t let him do that.
I couldn’t let him be distracted.
I couldn’t let my face, my name, or my love be the thing that brought everything undone.
“Alright, I’ll do it,” I said against his chest. “We’ll travel separately. I’ll wait for you in Spain.”
He rubbed his chin on the top on my head. “Okay.”
“You come for me as soon as it’s safe.” I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed.
He stroked my hair. “I’ll always come for you. Don’t ever doubt it.”
“I know.” I held on to him as tight as my arms could, and still it didn’t feel tight enough.
Somehow it felt like letting go.
When Haithem made a decision, he didn’t waste time. Within two hours we’d reached the Malaysian coast. He must’ve changed the course long before I’d agreed to anything because we’d have had to backtrack.
My bags propped against the wall on the lower deck.
Haithem and Emilio hunched over maps and documents, talking purposefully in Spanish.
My stomach turned.
I didn’t like this option, I just understood it needed to happen. Emilio would come with me, and we’d catch a private jet to Spain. Karim had already left to source a new yacht, gunshot wound and all. They’d keep sailing until Haithem worked out how we’d been found and how to make sure it didn’t happen again.
There were other things I’d yet to work out. Like why he glanced at me over his shoulder every now and then, as though maybe I’d suddenly learned to decipher Spanish.
There was always more with Haithem. More layers. More to things than what lay across the surface. I’m not sure I’d ever know everything that he planned, let alone half of what crossed his mind. He pushed the sleeve of his shirt above his elbow.
I watched that corded forearm move, stretch and point.
I’d let myself believe I understood him. I did, as well as he could be known. He’d changed with me. The moment he accepted loving me, he lifted me up, put me in some sacred sphere where he kept the things he cherished.
There wasn’t much else in that sphere with me.
That in itself could be dangerous. Because there were no limits with Haithem. No limits to what he wouldn’t do to fight for what was important to him.
He straightened and turned to me. “Are you ready?”
There’s always a temptation when falling in love, to erase your lover’s faults. I experienced that coaxing pull each time I looked at him, the way affection tried to elbow out imperfections. I’m sure he did that with me. Made me perfect. Few people get loved like that—it’s beautiful—humbling.
Haithem loved me that way. I was blessed. But that’s not how I loved Haithem.
I saw who he was.
I knew what he’d done.
I knew what he could do.
I loved the lion that protected me, but I remembered the shark who’d stalked me. And I loved the shark as well.
That vicious animal was rising again.
I sensed him in his movements. I saw him in the angles of his expressions. Smelled the blood on his jaw when he kissed me.
When he’d told me this would all be fine.
“I am.” I rose to my feet.
I knew we needed the shark. I was just afraid of what it’d do.
Haithem walked with me down to where the speedboat waited to take me and Emilio away. He helped me into the boat, even though it meant he’d have to climb back out. He kissed me goodbye. Hard and possessive, his lips no barrier to the hardness of his teeth. A warm wind wrapped around us, sending my dress curling around my legs. He pulled away. I gripped his shirt with my left hand, the good arm.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” I said.
“And I’ll be coming for you.” He touched my cheek with his knuckle. “Goodbye, Angel. I love you.”
My heart dipped.
There was no vulnerability, no desperation this time. My Haithem wore his shark skin.
“I love you, too,” I said, and watched him climb back up into the yacht.
Emilio helped me into a life vest, then the speedboat took off toward the shore. I watched behind us. Stared into the sun and the yacht getting smaller.
We docked at a small pier. I brushed aside Emilio’s hand and helped myself out onto the dock. The wood panels wobbled under my feet. I shaded my eyes with a hand, and looked out across the water.
Emilio tapped my shoulder, inclining his head to a car waiting at the small road at the end of the pier.
The yacht was still there.
He hadn’t moved.
I wondered if he had to wait as well. Watch me leave before he could move himself away. Sunlight flickered like fairy lights on the pale sea—but something else moved in the distance too.
“What’s that?” I grabbed Emilio’s arm, pointed to a small industrial looking ship moving toward the yacht.
Emilio cupped his hand over his eyes the way I did and squinted into the distance.
The ship cut through the water.
My stomach sank.
“Call Haithem,” I said.
Emilio glanced at me.
“Phone, Emilio, I need your phone.” I held out my hand.
My heart stopped—cramped and squeezed in my chest.
Something bright flew through the air.
Time slowed, each flash of light searing into memory.
A boom echoed across the water.
The yacht exploded in a cataclysm of debris and flame.
PART TWO
Chapter Sixteen
March
Wind whips the hair from my face. Light sears white patches into the backs of my eyes.
I scream.
Scream like I never knew I could scream. The sound tears from my body, burning through my lungs and throat. The pain so deep it exits my lips as a deathly wail.
Fingers bite into the tops of my shoulders, and a warning whispers against my ear.
It’s too late for warnings.
I shake like I’ve gone into a fit. I’ve experienced pain so many times now I should be immune. I’ve suffered heartbreak, but not like this.
I see fire. Not the figurative kind. Actual real fire. Flames engulfing my future—ravaging my soul.
I fight the hands holding me back. They won’t be dissuaded, wrestling me against an immovable body.
He lied to me. After everything, he lied to me again.
Betrayed me.
Broke my heart.
I trusted him. Believed in him when he swore everything would be all right.
That nothing could keep us apart.
He lied.
I thought I’d found a love that could survive anything. I thought love would keep us safe.
Wishful thinking.
Love would be the death of us.
Now I’m dying.
Dying. Dying. Dying.
I struggle against Emilio’s grip. He has to be all right—nothing can kill Haithem. He’s too strong for death.
Flames crawl over floating debris in the distance.
“Let go.” I yank again against Emilio’s stronghold. “Let me go.” My yells, screams, and wails, shriek in my own ears but are lost on him. “I have to see.”
Emilio hugs me silently, wrapping his arms around me until there’s not enough breath to both
breathe and scream. His actions speak to me—it’s too late.
“No.” I slam my heel into his foot. His grip loosens. I wiggle madly, then drive my elbow into his belly with all my force—all the pain, the fear, all of it in that thrust.
I break free, and run to the end of the pier. Planks shake under my shoes, and I throw myself at the very edge. My knees scrape wood. Splinters enter my palms.
I stare out onto the water. It doesn’t look so pure now. An oily film stretches from where the yacht had been.
“Haithem.” I cup my mouth and call out to the water. “Haithem.” My chest wraps in panic. Cranking chains of fear squeeze life out of me. “Haithem.”
I’m too far away. Can’t get to him. If he’s in the water, he can’t make it all this way. I glance around, the speedboat has gone.
I drag myself to my feet. “Call back the speedboat.”
Emilio seizes my arms from behind.
“Call back the speedboat,” I scream at him. “We have to help Haithem.”
Something trickles down my back. My stitches have torn. I don’t feel the pain, it’s the tang of the blood in my nose that lets me know.
Emilio spins me around, his expression set, yet there’s remorse in those eyes. I’ll exploit that remorse if I have to. I’ll milk it, do whatever I have to, to get him to help Haithem.
Sirens blare in the distance.
“Remember Plan D?” His words are wrapped in thick accent.
Plan D?
The plan I didn’t want to learn. The if everything goes wrong plan. “Yes.”
My head spins. Emilio can’t speak English. His expression relaxes for a moment, then a blur fills my vision—it’s his hand—closing over my face and filling my lungs with a pungent scent.
A scent like chemical death.
* * *
“Angelina.”
My name, spoken in my mother’s lilting voice. Proof I’ve finally lost my mind.
I’m almost relieved. Insanity wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe I’ve imagined the memories eating out my skull. I lick my lips. My jaw hurts.
Everything does.
“She’s waking up.”
Mum’s voice again.
Yep, bonkers.
But then these memories are so crazy, it’d make more sense for them to be delusions. Please, let them be delusions. But what am I praying for? For Haithem to be a figment of my imagination, or for him to be alive? Oh god, Haithem. I roll to my side, stomach clenching. My limbs heavy, weighed down like my bones have been hollowed out then filled with sand. No, I don’t wish for delusions—I wish I’m really dead.
I can’t do this again. I can’t. I can’t be the one to survive.
“Honey, can you hear me?”
My eyes flutter. They want to open. I hold them shut. I’m not ready. I don’t want to open them. I want to sink into black. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to know.
I don’t want to be.
He doesn’t feel dead. In the beginning neither did Josh. I saw his body but I could’ve sworn it wasn’t true. I blocked him out, denied him. Now Josh is back—his death is back. I’ve let myself feel it. Acknowledge it.
Josh is dead and it hurts so much.
I still nurse the grief. Soon I’ll believe that Haithem is gone too and there’s no room for more grief. There’s no room. I. Have. No. Room.
Please let me be crazy.
Let me be banging my head against a wall in some institution where maybe some medicine might make me better, or at least numb the pain.
My cheeks sting. They’re wet. I’ve given myself away. There’s no other option. I cry. My chest shakes. My whole body trembles. The sobs come up through my belly, my chest, they’re bigger than I am.
Someone holds me.
“It’s all right, sweetheart.”
It’s not all right. Don’t be dead, Haithem. Please, please, don’t be dead. I’d give up the incredible sinful sex. I’d give up pastry for the rest of my days. I’d give up anything. I’d be a good, dutiful daughter again.
What does the universe want me to trade?
Don’t take him too. Don’t take him. My mother rocks me. I don’t open my eyes, but pretense is over. There’s nothing I can say to her. She’s crying. Her sobs add another vibration to the trembling I suffer. But I can’t think about her. I can’t think about her anguish, or her joy that she has me back.
I’m too selfish. That’s why I’m in so much pain. Because I’d trade her peace for mine. I’d let her think that she’d lost me. I’d let her think she’s lost her daughter when she’d already lost her son. I did it for Haithem.
I just want Haithem. Together at least our wrongs had rights. Without him all that’s left is more wrongs.
I need you, Haithem.
My eyes fly open. He swore he’d never leave me. I know him, he’d never break a vow. He has a plan for everything. My mother’s face fills my vision, it’s the color of rhubarb. Her expression kills me. Not enough to stop me though.
“Water,” I wheeze, grabbing my throat.
Her eyes widen, and she flees the room.
I fumble with my wrist. The watch is there on my left wrist. Of course it is. It can’t be removed. I press the button. Oh lord, I’ve forgotten how much force it takes, and my fingers are filled with sand. Pain rips through my shoulder, but I press, and hold, and hold.
He swore he’d come if I pressed this—no matter what.
My mother rushes back in the room, a nurse running behind her. My chest clenches. I drop my wrist. A doctor rushes in. He lifts my eyelids, shining something in my eyes. There’s no air. The room rushes. A stethoscope touches my chest. My heart beats fast. So fast—too fast. My vision clouds. An oxygen mask covers my face. Tastes like illness.
It’s too late.
The black has come for me again.
Chapter Seventeen
“Angelina.”
A different voice. One of the voices from my delusions. I know I’ve gone crazy but my soul courses with joy. My eyes open. A familiar face. I reach out a pleading hand—he grasps it.
“Haithem?” I wheeze.
“Shhh,” Karim whispers.
It wasn’t a delusion.
“Are you all right?”
I shake my head. “Haithem?”
His chin sinks. “Is there an emergency?”
“Yes.” I’m surprised I can answer. “I need Haithem.”
“That’s impossible, he’s gone.”
Footsteps click behind him.
He leans forward. “Remember the plan.”
I remember—silence. The plan of silence. Should be easy because there’s nothing I can put into words. He presses two fingers to my wrist and looks at his watch. Karim wears a white coat like a doctor. A name tag dangles from his pocket.
Dr. Stephan Yankovich
I give him a short nod. I know what has to be done. No matter what anyone asks there’s no excuses, no explanations, no decoys. Not like all the other plans. The other plans have something to salvage. They have Haithem working in the background making everything right.
Not this plan.
This plan is for when we lose it all.
“Much better,” Karim says and smiles at my mother. “The nurse will be in shortly to replace the fluids.”
I glance up. I’m on a drip. There’s a tube from my right hand to an almost empty bag.
“Thank you,” Mum says.
Another familiar face enters the room. My lungs squeeze. Dad comes to the edge of my bed. His eyes shine. How can I do this? He better not cry. Not Dad. I’d only ever seen him cry once. That time was at a hospital too. I can’t bear to see that again.
I’ve never, ever, been able to lie to Dad. Not real
ly Mum either, but Dad has a way of dragging the truth out of me.
Karim gives me a final stare and leaves. I’m alone with my parents.
Alone in the face of every choice I’ve made.
And none I can admit.
“Can you remember how you were taken?”
The question comes from a woman about my mother’s age, sitting beside my bed. Dad was asked to give us a minute. Mum stayed though. She stands on the other side of the bed. Amy from the Australian embassy seems nice. Non-threatening. The only reason they could force Dad from the room.
I know what they all think and it’s ugly. So ugly, not telling them the truth feels worse than anything I’ve done up to now. But I won’t betray Haithem. I won’t break my promises. I’ll stick to the plan. Karim’s presence proved one thing—alive or not, Haithem’s hand is still at work. His plans still in action. I won’t be the one to bring them undone.
I don’t look at Amy even though she’s the person organizing my emergency passport to get me home. As it is, I’ve been in a Malaysian hospital for three days with no insurance.
“I don’t remember,” I say.
Again and again, the same answer. She has too much sympathy to be annoyed. I heard what they said—sedatives in my system. The nasty illegal kind. That isn’t a surprise. I’d planned to take a pill myself if caught. That was plan D. If I were completely compromised. Take a blue pill and plead ignorance.
A dirty solution to a complicated situation.
Too make things worse, or better depending how you look at it, they found healing vaginal trauma. They’d already drawn their horrible conclusions. Because I couldn’t explain about the vigorous sex with my insanely hung dead boyfriend.
I’d refused to go along with this scenario, but Haithem was right—I’d do whatever it took to protect him. Even this. He knew me better than I did. Pain tightened my ribs and made my breath sting.
“Do you have any memories of where you have been all this time?”
“I don’t remember.” It’s a mantra.
“Can you recall how you may have traveled to Malaysia? Can you remember flying, or the sound of water? Anything?” Amy asks.
“My head hurts.” I turn to look at my mother.