“Take Malala out,” Pike said to Rage, who drew her out of the chair.
She stumbled, trying to keep her balance. Though she wanted to offer reassurance to her decoy, she felt it better to maintain the ruse. Long ago, she had learned to not offer information that was not specifically asked for.
He led her down the hall and around a corner. Swung her toward the wall. “So she speaks English.”
Pretend …Kasra frowned. “I am sorry?”
“You didn’t translate that last question before she answered.”
“I did not have to—you spoke his name.” She shrugged, each word infusing her with confidence. “No matter whether in English or Pashto, it strikes terror in all our hearts.” With everything in her, she prayed the truth of that convinced him.
Mouth tight, he stared. “C’mon.” Grip again tight, he turned toward the courtyard.
The door at the far end opened, an explosion of light making silhouettes of three men who entered. That manner of their appearance scalded Kasra with recognition that lit fire through her lungs.
No.Breath stolen, she slipped behind Rage and ducked. Prayed the officer there did not look in their direction. Did not notice her. She waited until the hall quieted, until she heard doors open and close elsewhere, then braved a glance.
And those forbidding gray eyes condemned now even as they had then. Her heart lurched and she could not move. Could not think. How …?Howwas he here? She turned toward the courtyard doors, head tucked even more, hoping he had not truly seen her face. Would not say anything. He could upend her ruse. Ruin everything. Again.
“Captain,” someone called from another passage, drawing him away.
Kasra touched her temple, her fingers trembling. She snatched her hand down, even then feeling a certain pair of blue eyes on her. “I … should return to the others.” She inched nearer the barred window, waiting for him to enter his code into the keypad.
He shifted next to her, his presence so devouring. No doubt he had not missed the split-second reaction between her and the captain. His hand hovered above the security pad … and stilled. His other hand touched her shoulder.
And she felt something in her shrivel.
“Are—”
“Please,” she whispered, her voice raw, wavering. “Please do not ask.”
The vacuum beneath them snapped closed. He entered the code and theshunksounded.
Anxious for air, she shoved the door out of the way. Nearly tripped into the open. He caught her elbow, but she shrugged it off. Kept her gaze on the path forward. Wanted to run. Should have. But did not. She moved a little faster, hoping to avoid any more conversation. Afraid he would ask about the captain. Terrified he would seek the captain out. If he did, he would know she was not Malala.
The revelation made her stomach churn. They must prepare. She had been a fool to think she could make this work. Convince him to release them. She hurried into the yard and into the building where the others were eating. After accepting a bowl of meat and rice, she went to her bunk. Hunched there, thinking.
“What is it?” Raz asked, joining her.
“You were right. We have to get out of here. Tonight.”
“What about Fatina?”
Her insides squeezed. “We’ll find a way.” They must. It was impossible. It was all so very impossible and the thought nearly choked her. Her breath shuddered.
I am so sick of my life. It must end. All of it.
“I’m worried about you.”
“Do not.”
“I’ve never seen you like this.”
Never again will you either.Even then an idea stole into her dark thoughts. “I might have a plan.” One that depended on blue eyes.
CHAPTERFIVE
CIA Safehouse, Kandahar Province, Afghanistan
