Before Raziq can touch him, I curl my body around my son and turn away. “You must do as your uncle says, Mateen. Wudu is important. You must be clean to pray. Go with Hamza. You will see me soon.”
A man—Hamza, I assume—takes Mateen’s arm and pulls him from my embrace. He starts to cry. I try to get to my feet, but the men on either side of me clamp their hands on my shoulders to push me back down again.
“It will be all right,”I call as my son is dragged through the door. “I love you!”
Raziq nods to the men holding me. One of them grabs my arms and pushes the cape back to expose my wrists. I flinch at a metallic clank from my right and turn my head.
The other man wraps a chain around the top of the railing. At the ends, thick iron manacles radiate so much heat, I canseeit.
“No. Please,” I beg. “You do not need those. I will not run.”
“You are my property, Lisette. My responsibility. You will suffer for your crimes. Greatly.” Raziq moves to the table and opens a long, wooden box. Before I can see what is inside, the man holding my hands spins me around so I am forced to stare out over the barren landscape. The other locks the cuffs around my wrists. The metal burns my skin. I clench my teeth so I do not scream. That is what he wants. I know it. To break me. I pull at the chain, but it is so short, I cannot lower my arms more than halfway.
“You will take your first forty now,” Raziq says. “The remainder will come every day after the Sunrise prayer.”
I twist, desperate to know where he is. To see the whip. Faruk favored braided leather. His brother lifts a long, thick rope attached to a wooden handle. He snaps it so close to me, I feel the stir in the air, even though the burka.
“Turn around.”
What choice do I have? I do as he says, kneeling and resting my forehead against my bent arms. My heart pounds so hard, it is all I can hear.
The first strike lands along my right shoulder. After the sharp sting, my entire back starts to burn.
The second is lower. I wrap my fingers around the railing with a whimper. My vision through the black mesh tunnels.
Three. Four. Five. I cannot help the wail spilling from my chapped lips. The agony spreads to my arms and legs. Only the cuffs stop me from collapsing onto my side.
I lose count. There is nothing of me left. Only pain. Bile coats my tongue. Sweat and tears soak the cloth over my face. How many more?
My head is wrenched away from my arms, and I stare up into Raziq’s wild eyes. Cold water splashes over me without warning. The fresh welts burn with each cough as I fight to breathe. To swallow even a drop.
And then it stops. His hand falls away. Footsteps recede, and the door slams shut behind me.
They left me out here in the sun. Alone. Bound. Unable to do more than cry.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Nomar
After more thantwenty years in the field, I’m used to the waiting. The endless hours of nothing. The muscle cramps. The sweat gathering at the base of my spine.
Though I’m not usually stuffed into the trunk of a car.
Aazar parked this piece of shit sedan two blocks from Raziq’s house at dusk, but according to his intel, the man doesn’t go to bed until close to midnight. “Remind me again why I’m the one passing the time in a small, metal box?” I ask.
Austin chuckles. “You’re the only one who’d fit.”
He’srelaxing on a roof two houses away. Hell, he probably has a cold soda and a picnic basket in front of him.
“Blame your friend,” Griff says. “He could have stolen a bigger car. Maybe then the shortest guy on the team would have drawn a longer straw.”
“I’m busting a gut here. You should retire from wet work and get a job as a comedian.”
“Maybe I will. It’d be a hell of a lot more fun than hiding in a drainage pipe half the fucking night. At least your ass isn’t wet. Most of the residents of this city have no water, and this neighborhood’s drowning in it.”
My watch face glows pale green as I check the time. “Five minutes. Zephyr, any movement on Lisette’s GPS tag?”
“It’s shifted a few times in the past hour, but no more than a few feet. She’s still in one of the north-west corner bedrooms.”
