7
KATHERINE
I wake before the alarm goes off. Not because I’m well-rested—far from it—but because my body has decided this is not a place where sleep should come easily. The sounds outside the hotel room are unfamiliar and constant, bleeding through the walls even at this hour. Distant horns, voices rising and falling in a language I’m not used to, and the low hum of a generator somewhere below—steady and relentless.
For a few disoriented seconds, I don’t remember where I am, then it all rushes back at once.
Mogadishu.
The hotel room feels too quiet in comparison, sealed off from the city with thick curtains and reinforced glass that doesn’t quite convince me it could withstand much if tested. I lie still, staring at the ceiling, heart beating a little too fast, and remind myself to breathe.
This is real. I’m here, and there’s no going back until my work is done.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and immediately regret it. The floor is cold, in contrast to the warm air despite the early hour. I rub my palms over my thighs, grounding myself, the way I always do when my thoughts start racing ahead of me.
You’re fine, Kate. You’re just interpreting. You’re not running into gunfire. You’re not negotiating ceasefires. You’re translating words.
Words, I can handle. I have to.
The bathroom mirror reflects a version of me that looks… smaller somehow. My eyes are too alert for how little sleep I got, my shoulders tense even as I try to relax them. I splash water on my face, grip the edge of the sink, and take a slow, deliberate breath.
I choose clothes carefully—nothing flashy or drawing attention. Comfortable slacks, a lightweight blouse that doesn’t cling, and shoes I can stand in all day without thinking about my feet. It feels like armor of a different kind, practical and unobtrusive.
When I step out into the hallway, Addison is already there, arm raised, ready to knock. She looks impossibly awake—hair pulled back neatly, outfit crisp and professional, eyes bright with anticipation instead of fear.
“Good morning, gorgeous. Are you ready?”
I blink at her. “For what?”
She grins. “History, diplomacy. A very long day.”
I laugh weakly. “You’re enjoying this.”
She doesn’t deny it. “I really am.”
And I get it. This is familiar terrain for her—controlled chaos, high stakes wrapped in procedure and security protocols. Compared to where she usually goes, this is practically civilized.
I follow her down to the lobby, my nerves buzzing louder with every step. The hotel is already active—journalists clustering in small groups, security moving with purpose, staff speaking quickly into radios.
The air is humming with anticipation when I spot him.
James stands near the entrance, camera strap slung across his chest, posture relaxed but alert. He looks exactly as he did yesterday—composed, unruffled, like he woke up already prepared for whatever the day might throw at him.
Something in my chest eases. I don’t question or analyze it. I just note the shift and move on.
He glances at us briefly, nods once in acknowledgment, then looks away. No tension or awkwardness, just quiet presence.
Addison leans in as we walk past him. “Thought you’d sneak into his room at night and continue what you started in LA,” she teases.
“Like I’d ever,” I scoff while she grins wider, wriggling her eyebrows at me.
The last thing I want to do is get tangled up with the mystery that is James, in a foreign country that’s one wrong move away from annihilation.
We grab breakfast from the buffet in the restaurant before heading out.
Outside, the heat wraps around us immediately, thicker than yesterday, the sun already climbing. The vehicle waits at the curb, our chauffeur standing nearby, scanning the street. He’s the same older gentleman from yesterday—quite nice—and after exchanging pleasantries, he ushers us into the backseat.
This time, Addison slides in next to me while James takes the front passenger seat. That’s a relief. I don’t think I can handle sitting next to him so early in the morning, especially when he keeps ignoring me like nothing happened between us.
