“Oh no.”
His chest starts to rise and fall rapidly.
“Oh God, no.”
He curls forward, his shoulders shaking. I run my hand up and down his spine until he settles.
“I don’t know if this helps,” I say quietly. “But after that, your baba killed his father’s general, the man who taught him to kill. Gutted him and left him for the vultures before fleeing to the United States.”
Rami nods at this bit of intel, like he’s really starting to put it together. Like he might even agree with the choices his father made.
“And he came to Austin because that’s where his tutor was from?”
“Yes. I believe he originally planned to bring his tutor with him.”
Rami folds forward again, saddened by this detail.
Finally, he shakes his head, wiping his eyes. “So many parts of my family story make so much sense now.”
I finally ask the question I’ve been pondering since meeting Hedy at the plant shop. “Why do you think no one’s told you this?”
His smile is sad. “This is going to sound weird, what with everything you just told me, but I’m guessing they kept this from me to give me the childhood Baba never had.”
“I can see that.” I let out an annoyed huff. “But why not tell you now?”
His laugh is dry. “I don’t know about before, but I ripped them a new one when I found out about the surveillance tech. Told them I’d bar them from the building if they ever do that again, and I think they believe me.”
I shake my head. “Definitely not the experience I had with my family. They do not care if they never see me again.”
Rami’s expression saddens as he reaches for my arm. “You deserve better than that.”
“Thanks.” I scruff his wet hair. “Any other questions?”
19
RAMI
My hair—stilluncut—is dry, and I’m still asking questions. I can tell Truett’s leaving out some of the stickier details, but I appreciate what he’s willing to tell me.
“So, wait, you’re trying to tell meDadwas the one terrorizing all the oligarchs way back when?”
“Don’t forget your Uncle Hopper. He seems to enjoy that sort of thing, and those two together are…oof.” True shakes his head. “Dangerous.”
“But Baba too?”
Truett lets out a slow hiss. “He and your dad are quite the team.”
“I can’t even picture it.”
He wiggles his phone at me. “I could show you, but if it gets out that I’m distributing this information, I’ll go to jail for a very long time.”
I hesitate at first, then give him a nod. He pulls up the Hell_AI app, and it feels like he’s opening a portal to darkness.
“Just warning you, some of these photographs are pretty intense.”
I swallow thickly. “Okay.”
He quickly finds a picture of Dad, maybe in his late thirties, with his arms across his chest and his foot on the neck of someone I recognize, who has piss stains on his pants and is missing a pinky. Dad is grinning like a psycho, and Baba is off to the side, smiling affectionately.
