Surely that was long enough.She wiped down the torture machine and went off in search of the sauna.
She foundit tucked into a corner of the spa level.She opened the door and stepped into a small cedar-lined room with benches on three sides and stones that glowed red-hot in the corner.Before she even greeted Hanna, who was sitting in the dry heat, she scanned the space.Omar had been right: no cameras in here.She relaxed her tense shoulder and turned her attention to Hanna.
For a moment they just looked at each other.Hanna’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, her face blotchy from crying.
Marielle wished she could give the woman her privacy, but it was now or never.She sat down on the bench.
Hanna stood and headed for the door.“I’m sorry?—”
“Please stay.”Marielle’s voice was soft but urgent.“Please.”
Hanna hesitated, her hand on the door handle.Then something in her seemed to break.She let the door close and sank onto the bench across from Marielle, as far away as the small space allowed.
They sat in silence for a long moment.The only sound was the hiss of steam as Marielle ladled water over the hot stones.
“Want to talk about it?”Marielle finally asked.
Hanna let out a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been a sob.“Would it matter if I did?”
“It might.”
“To whom?”Hanna’s voice was bitter.“To you?To your husband?We’ll reach Marseille tonight.You get to go back to your beautiful life together.”She looked down at her hands, twisted together in her lap.“I don’t get to leave.”
Marielle’s heart clenched.She wanted to reach across the space between them, to offer comfort, but she forced herself to wait.Hanna was talking—really talking—for the first time.She remembered her behavioral psychology training at the Farm: it’s always better to let them come to you.
“How long have you been with Idris?”she asked carefully.
“Three months.Or maybe it’s been a lifetime.Sometimes I can’t remember what it was like before.”Hanna wiped at her eyes.“Our fathers arranged it.A business deal.I’m part of the collateral.”
“That’s not?—”
“Legal?Ethical?No.But it’s how things work in our world.”Hanna’s laugh was hollow.“My father trades in information.Idris’s father trades in ...many things.They needed to solidify their partnership.What better way than a marriage?”
“You’re not married yet.”
“Not yet.But I will be.In two months, there’s a ceremony planned in Tunis.I’ll smile and wear a beautiful gown and promise to love and honor him, and then I’ll spend the rest of my life being watched.”She gestured vaguely upward, and Marielle knew she meant the cameras.“Always watched.Always controlled.”
The temperature in the sauna was climbing, sweat beading on Marielle’s skin.She ladled more water over the stones, buying herself a moment to think.
“What if you didn’t have to marry him?”she said quietly.“What if there was a way out?”
Hanna’s head snapped up, her eyes sharp despite the tears.“There isn’t.”
“But what if there was?”
For a long moment, Hanna just stared at her.Marielle could see her weighing something, deciding whether to trust or retreat.
Finally, Hanna spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.“I always tried.I was betrayed.”
“By Idris?”
“No.”She shook her head.“By someone who was supposed to help me get out of this.They promised—” Her voice cracked.“They said they would extract me.That I just had to hold on, keep gathering information, and when the time came they would get me out.”
Marielle’s pulse quickened.“What kind of information?”
“About my father’s business.About his partnership with Idris’s father.Financial records, communications, evidence of—” She stopped, looking at Marielle closely.“Why do you want to know?”
This was it.The moment where Marielle either committed or backed away.She thought of Jake’s orders, of the mission parameters, of all the reasons she shouldn’t reveal anything.
