"Tell me what you need." I keep my voice level. "Money? I can give you money. Enough for you and your son to start over anywhere in the world. Lawyers? I have lawyers who can make sure Omar's family acknowledges what happened, who can force—"
“You still don’t understand.” She cuts me off with a single shake of her head. Almost pitying. “There is no amount of money that brings him back. There is no lawyer who can restore what you took." Her dark eyes narrow. "You are not negotiating. You cannot buy your way out of this."
She pauses.
"You are here to bear witness."
The words hit me like a speeding train. A door slamming shut in my face.
I'm out of moves. The tools that have defined my entire adult life—money, influence, leverage—they're all useless here. I have nothing to offer that she wants.
She was waiting for me. That's why she hasn't already harmed Avery. None of this is truly about her. It never was.
Avery is the bait. The instrument. The means to an end.
I am the audience.
My arrival isn't rescue. It's completion.
The wind drives harder across the rooftop, sharp with the bite of October. The city roars below, oblivious. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wails—too far, too late.
I run through the options.
Violence. I could rush her. Cover the distance in seconds. But she'd pull the trigger before I got halfway there, and Avery would be dead.
I've tried bargaining. She doesn't want what I have.
Fear of the authorities won’t work, either. Gabe's team is still minutes away. The police even further. By the time anyone else reaches this rooftop, it will be over one way or another.
I have no winning move here. No leverage. No angle.
I have nothing left, no options.
Except one thing.
I lower my hands. Slowly. Deliberately. Not surrendering… offering.
"Then take me instead."
I state it calmly. Steady. I'm not bargaining anymore. I'm not trying to outmaneuver her. She’s won.
"You say you want balance. You want me to feel what you felt—to lose what you lost. I understand that. And you're right. I owe that debt."
I take a step forward. Nadiyah's grip on Avery tightens, and I stop.
"But Avery is innocent. You said it yourself. She had nothing to do with what happened to Omar." My voice doesn't waver. "If someone has to pay the price for what I did, let it be me. Not her."
Nadiyah stares at me, unmoving, unblinking.
"Let her go, Nadiyah. Take me instead. Whatever you need to do to balance the scales, do it to me."
It's not bravado. It's not a play.
It's the only move I have left.
If Nadiyah wants someone to suffer for what I did—if that's the only currency she'll accept—then I will pay it. Gladly. Without hesitation.
Because a world without Avery isn't a world I want to live in anyway.
