"Quiet!" Nadiyah's voice cuts sharp across the rooftop. "Stop talking."
"Why? Because I'm telling you things you don't want to hear? I'm only telling you the truth. You go through with this, and your life is over too."
"I don't care about my life!" The words tear out of her, furious and desperate. "I have to do this!"
She yanks me backward, faster now. A cry escapes me. Panic cresting as the open air yawns wider behind us with every step. The threat of consequences didn't slow her down. It sped her up.
And we're running out of rooftop.
I force myself to be calm. Force my voice to hold, even as my pulse hammers so hard I can feel it throbbing in my temples.
"Nick's right about one thing, Nadiyah." I speak carefully, reaching for the only thing that might still matter to her. "Think about Sami. What will it do to him if you're not around?"
I feel her breath catch against my back. No words. But she's hearing me.
"Prison isn't just a price you'll pay. It's a price your son pays too." My voice doesn't waver. I won't let it. "He's so young, only four years old. He already lost his father. If you do this, he loses his mother too—to a locked cell. To visits behind glass. To growing up knowing his mother chose revenge over him."
I keep pressing. Gentle. Relentless.
"And what about your mother? She tried to stop you earlier, didn't she? She pleaded with you not to do this. If you don't stop now, she loses her daughter. She raises your son alone, knowing she couldn't save you from yourself."
Against my temple, the gun shudders. Just slightly. Just enough for me to notice.
"All this will accomplish is more victims. More grief that never ends. Omar's death was a terrible thing, Nadiyah. Don't make it a legacy of destruction."
Something I’ve said is starting to reach her. I can feel it in the way her body is responding, the tremor in the gun, the raggedness of her breathing. The way her heartbeat against my back has gone erratic and racing.
The certainty is wavering.
Not enough. Not yet. But closer than anything else has gotten.
When Nadiyah speaks, her voice is thick. Strained. The words coming harder now. "I know the cost." A shuddering breath. "I must accept it. For Omar's memory. For justice."
Her grip tightens. Steadies as she pulls me nearer to the edge.
I'm running out of angles. Running out of time. Running out of words that might matter.
There's only one thing left I haven't said. The one truth I've guarded through every escalation, every step closer to the drop. The truth my hands have been shielding against my body without my even realizing it.
I don't weigh it. Don't calculate. The words simply come, wrenched out of me by something deeper than strategy, deeper than thought. The raw, animal refusal of a mother whose child is about to die with her.
"I'm pregnant."
Two words. They leave my body like something torn loose.
I don’t know if it will matter now, but I need her to know the breadth of what she’s doing. If I can appeal to the part of her I saw in the photos back at her apartment, maybe there’s still a small chance of reaching her.
"You won't only be killing me, Nadiyah. You'll be killing a child who hasn't even been born yet. An innocent life that has nothing to do with any of this."
I feel her whole body react—a violent flinch, the arm around my torso going rigid, the gun hand stuttering against my temple like she's been struck.
For one breathless second, the grip loosens.
I could move. Could twist away. Maybe I could—
Then it tightens again. Harder than before.
"No." The word is wrenched from her. "No. You're lying. You're lying to save yourself. I don't believe you."
