“She will be,” I answer without hesitation.
“She can’t come back here,” Blake states firmly.
Hawk lets out a low chuckle. “Fuck. You’re going to get along great with Reese…”
I laugh, and Blake glances at me with an arched brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I smirk, twisting slightly toward her. “Let’s just say, the two of you might have to battle it out over who’s the most stubborn.”
“Stubborn?” she echoes, her voice light but daring, leaning toward me with a sliver of challenge in her tone and a teasing glint in her eyes.
I backpedal, raising my hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Maybe… maybe I exaggerated a little.”
“Alittle?”
Two days. Two long, endless days, and still no word from Reese. Not a single text. Not a single call. The waiting is a physical weight, pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I pace the floor of the safe house, trying desperately to keep a handle on my sanity.
Today, the house feels smaller, almost claustrophobic, like the walls themselves are closing in, reminding me just how close we are—how close I am—to losing control over everything. Maryam. Aliyah. The fragile thread of safety we’ve built around ourselves, woven from secrets and violence, is fraying. I can’t make her wait another week. It’s too long.
In the living room, I grip the back of a rickety wooden chair until my knuckles go white fighting the urge to break free of these confines. And yet I hesitate.I’m terrified.I almost can’t bear the thought of leaving the relative protection of this house, fearful that someone is watching, waiting for me to slip up, to give them the slightest hint of where Maryam and her daughter are hiding.
Squeezing my fingers around the chair, I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, the coppery tang a sharp anchor in the sea of my anxiety. My stomach twists into knots as I replay every possible scenario when we finally leave here. Every shadow on the street, every pedestrian we pass, every vehicle that slows just a second too long… They could all be her husband or someone working for him. I know what I need to do, but the risks are too great to try to do it alone.
“Jagger…” My voice comes out as barely a whisper, because I’m so afraid to speak.
He lifts his head from the chair where he’s leaning, watching me pace with that careful, assessing look. The one that makes me feel like he can see straight through me, past the doctor, the fighter, and right down to the scared woman underneath. “What is it, Doc?”
I swallow hard, a lump rising in my throat. My fingers twitch, a nervous dance against my thigh, as if they want to speak before my mouth does. “You said you’d do anything… I need to ask you to do something that you aren’t going to want to do.”
He straightens instantly, his lazy posture vanishing quickly, replaced by a coiled readiness. Concern sharpens the edges of his features, his eyes darkening. “What is it?”
I take a deep breath, steadying myself against the wave of intensity. I can’t let fear keep me from doing this. Maryam and Aliyah is depending on me. “I’m a day late visiting Maryam. She needs supplies.”
The words are simple, but I know the implications are not.
Jagger’s jaw clenches, and his hands ball into fists on his thighs. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go alone.”
I meet his eyes, and I see every emotion he’s trying to control beneath the surface: fear for me, frustration with the situation, the instinct to lock me away to keep me safe. I know I can’t make him understand my predicament fully—he’s a protector by instinct, whose first language is control—but I have to try. “I know…” My voice rises above the hum of the refrigerator, trembling slightly. “I know you want to protect me. But this… this ismyresponsibility. I promised her.”
The silence stretches between us, thick and awkward. I can feel the unspoken questions lingering in the air: Can I really be trusted to do this? Can he really allow me to walk into a potential trap, even if it’s for the right reasons?It’s a test for both of us.
His stare is unwavering as he thinks. “Blake…” he starts, a protest on his lips.
“Do you trust me?” My voice is steady, though my hands fidget with the hem of my sleeve, a tell I can’t seem to stop.
“Yes,” he says after a long moment, the word dragged out of him.
“Then, please, tell the guys we’re going to see Zahra, so I can do this.”
He exhales, a low, resigned sound that’s almost a growl. I know he’ll do this for me because he cares about me. But I also understand what I am asking of him. The three men sharing this house with us are his family, and I need him to lie to them. It’s the only way I know Maryam will be safe.
Jagger grabs his phone and fires off a text, begrudgingly. “Done.”
The ride in the Jeep is tense but silent, the kind of quiet that presses against your ears until every sound feels amplified. The city blurs past us on the way to the market, familiar yet threatening. I scan every car, every shadow, every figure on the sidewalk with a hyper-vigilance that’s exhausting. My stomach twists as I think about Maryam, waiting, vulnerable, and alone with her baby in that rundown lounge.I can’t let anything go wrong now.
We stop at the market briefly—buying bread, fruits, and small things that will be useful to Maryam. I chat idly with Jagger as he loads the two bags into the trunk, trying to mask the tension in my voice with forced normalcy.
“You think I’ll get lucky and have bought something she likes?” he asks, slipping behind the wheel.
