“I will check on them.”
“Oh,” she said, motioning to the packages on her desk. “There are the last of the supplies needed for them. Please be sure each girl gets what they need.” It was not, of course for the new girls. It was for all the girls. The last of what was necessary for tonight.
A smirk in his cheek, Razam nodded.
She wished she could reassure him, tell him things would be fine. Truth was, every second that brought them closer and closer to their very dangerous exit felt like a miracle. Years spent in this trade taught her mastery over facial expressions, body language, and words. But she could not deny the nerves rattling through her, since it would quite literally be her head if they were discovered. Months ago, she thought the plan ruined when Aqbari had been taken. But she, Fatina, and Razam adjusted and continued with the plan.
For that very reason, she sat at the desk and forced herself to review the ledgers, the appointment books, check email. She drew out the sweets she had purchased for herself—one last reward, since she knew not what would come once she entered the tunnels.
“Madam,” Fatina appeared in the doorway, her face nearly white. Eyes wide and mouth ajar. “The gate. He’s coming!”
“Who?”
“Taweel!”
Breath jammed in her throat, Kasra ignored the buzz of adrenaline and stood. “He was just here a few days ago.” Surely he does not know. He could not. They had been so careful.
The walk into the halls seemed to take hours with the way her legs trembled, but here, she knew she could relax because there were no cameras.
Behind her, Fatina hissed, “He knows!”
Kasra turned into her dear friend and decoy. “No.” She caught and squeezed her forearm. “Listen.” When brown eyes met hers, she nodded. “Razam is in the cellar stuffing the backpacks. Get him out, make sure the door is shut and covered. Dust on the floor. Yes?”
Understanding, Fatina drew in a sharp breath and blurred away from her.
Taking a moment for courage, Kasra fixed her gaze not on the end of the hall that led to the foyer, but to her future. To what she was fighting for. Nobody else would help her. It was time to make freedom happen. For herself. For the others. No matter the cost.
What if hedoesknow? What if he had hidden cameras in the cellar after all?
She faltered inwardly. Swallowed. No, she must remain strong. Shoulders straight, she raised her chin and strode to the front of the house, where three armored SUVs barreled to a stop.
As she watched through the open door, she swallowed. A metallic taste hit her tongue—fear. A flavor that had not filled her mouth in many months.
Taweel’s bodyguard, Abdullah, flung open the door and stepped out, as did six other guards, checking the perimeter.
Accursed Taweel, always changing his routine to avoid predictability and attacks, emerged. Afternoon sunlight caught his thin hair that was slicked back as if he were some movie star. Aviator sunglasses added to his superior air, as well as a silk button-down shirt, slacks, and shiny black shoes that were even now coating with dust from the road. Strutting like a peacock, he gained the third step of the house and removed his sunglasses, gaze tracking over the foyer and stairs.
His glower struck her. “Where are the girls? Why are they not presented?”
Donning contrition like armor as always, Kasra followed him inside. “They are in Comportment and Etiquette with Hana. Since you were here not three days past and this visit unannounced, I thought they should continue with their le—”
His hand rose.
She saw it. Knew what he intended. Knew she could stop him. Level, if not kill, him. But she must not. For the girls and the many, many weapons trained on her around the compound itching to spill her blood. So, Kasra let the blow land.
It wracked across her cheek. Snapped her head back. She stumbled backward—partly to gain more distance. But he flew at her. Cuffed her throat and pinned her against the still-open door. “Neverthink you know better than me.” His grip tightened and he bared his teeth. “Or I will gut you, Kasra. Am. I. Clear?”
You can try.Face tight, she nodded. Even managed to produce tears. Hands fisted, she told herself to remember …Tonight.
With a shove that smacked her head against the door, he stalked from her. “Where are the African girls?”
Kasra started. “The Niger”—she faltered, knowinghehated being corrected—“newones?”What was this?Why would he ask after those girls? When his rage registered again, she lowered her gaze. “In class with Hana.”
Razam manifested in the hall—dust on the knee of one pant leg, making Kasra tense. Pray it was not noticed.
Taweel’s gaze locked on him. “Razam! Bring the African girls at once.”
What was so special about the Nigerian girls that he would return for them? Mind racing, she could not help but notice he had not left the foyer. Usually, he would move into the parlor and have a drink, be attended by Fatina or one of the older girls.
