“It’s… Um…” I search for the right word, the corner of my lips twitching despite everything. “Quaint.”
Jagger snorts. “No need for pleasantries, Doc. It’s a fucking shithole.”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it—short, sharp, and a little hysterical, but real. The sound startles me as much as it does him. “It’s a fucking shithole,” I agree, wiping at my tear-filled eyes with the heel of my hand. A smile spreads across his face like he’s relieved I’m capable of laughing.
Without warning, the door opens behind us. I jump, my heart simultaneously lurching into my throat and slamming into my ribs. My hand flies out to grab Jagger’s, and he laces our fingers together immediately.
Damon and a man I haven’t met step inside, scanning the room on reflex before their attention lands on me.
“Jesus,” Damon blurts. “You okay, Dr. Hart?”
I nod. “I think so.” The words feel thin, but they’re the best I’ve got.
The other man’s gaze flicks between me and Jagger. “Bringing her here is risky.”
Jagger answers without hesitation, “Her place isn’t safe. Not unless we’re all watching her.”
Damon affirms. “Agreed.”
The casual way they talk about my safety—like it’s a shared responsibility, like it’s obvious—hits me harder than I expect. It’s not control, but inclusion.
They fill Jagger in quickly on their meeting with Abrahim, their voices low but urgent. Maryam’s brother is aware something is wrong. He knows other people are looking for her. He’s angry and desperate.Fear does that to people.
“Now that he knows we have a lead,” Damon shares, “he wants her found. Yesterday.”
My stomach twists, guilt blooming sharp and acidic, as they talk about Maryam and this job they are on. “I lied,” I mutter quietly. All three of them turn to me. “I know where Maryam is.”
The room goes still for a moment before Jagger sighs. “We know.”
“Of course you do.” I blink at him in disbelief. “Is there anything youdon’tknow?”
“Where Maryam is,” he shoots back with a smirk.
I roll my eyes, irritation flaring through my exhaustion. “That isn’t funny.”
“Poor timing,” Damon agrees.
He holds up two fingers, pinching them together. “It’s a little bit funny.”
I draw in a steadying breath, feeling the weight of what I’m about to do settle in my chest. “I will tell you. But I have… stipulations.”
Hawk, not once wavering in his seriousness, arches a brow. “What is this? Are you holding her hostage and negotiating?”
“I’m not holding her hostage. Or against her will,” I snap. “She’s hiding with me because she’s terrified, healing, and trying to keep her baby alive.”
“What do you want?” Hawk asks. “What are your so-called stipulations?”
“I want to talk to her brother,” I give my demand. “Face-to-face.”
Hawk glances at Jagger, then nods slowly. “I can arrange that.”
“And,” I continue, my voice shaking but resolute, “her husband.”
“Absolutely not,” Jagger explodes beside me, the two words sharp enough to make me flinch.
“I want him to hear it from me,” I argue. “He needs to know she’s gone, and that she’s not coming back.”
“He’ll kill you,” Jagger snarls. “That’s not a conversation. That’s a death wish.”
