CONCRETE ROOM
Northern Iraq - Nazari's Compound
Mara had lost track of time. Could have been two days. Could have been three. The small room where they kept her had no windows, no natural light, nothing to mark the passage of hours except the changing of the guards outside her door. She'd counted rotations but eventually lost track of those too.
The room was concrete. Cold. A cot with a thin blanket. A bucket in the corner. Nothing else. Her hands were zip-tied in front of her, tight enough to restrict movement but not tight enough to cut off circulation completely. Small mercy. She'd been checking her bonds regularly, looking for weaknesses, but whoever had secured them knew what they were doing.
The door opened and Nazari walked in. Same dead eyes from the intelligence photos. Same cold expression. But there was something else there now. Something personal. He pulled up a chair and sat across from her, studying her like she was a specimen in a lab.
"You are not what I expected," he said in heavily accented English. "When my men told me they had captured an American woman, I thought perhaps a journalist. Or an aid worker. Someone foolish who wandered into the wrong place." Heleaned forward. "But you are not foolish, are you? You are a soldier."
"I'm not a soldier," Mara said. Her voice was rough from lack of water but she kept it steady. "I'm nobody."
"Lies. My men found tactical gear. Professional weapons. Communications equipment. You were providing overwatch for an operation. That is not the work of nobody." Nazari's eyes narrowed. "You were part of the team that took my wife and son."
There it was. The reason she was here. Mara kept her expression neutral. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"More lies. Four months ago, my compound was assaulted. My family was taken from me. My prisoner was stolen. The Americans claimed credit, but the operation was too clean. Too professional. And there were reports of women among the assault force." Nazari stood and began pacing. "I have spent four months searching for answers. For the people who took everything from me. And then you appear in my region. Running an operation. And my men capture you."
"Bad luck," Mara said.
"Fate." Nazari stopped pacing and looked at her. "You will tell me where they are. My wife. My son. You will tell me who you work for. And you will tell me how to find them."
"I don't know where they are." That was true at least. Shadow Veil had handed Amira and Karim off to resources who specialized in relocation and protection. Mara had no idea what country they were in now, what names they were using, what life they were building. That was by design. Can't tell what you don't know.
"You are lying."
"Believe what you want. I can't give you information I don't have." Mara met his eyes. "But even if I could, I wouldn't. Your wife and son are safe now. Away from you. Away from the lifeyou forced on them. They're free. And you're never getting them back."
Nazari's hand moved faster than she expected. The backhand caught her across the face, snapping her head to the side. Mara tasted blood. She'd bitten her tongue on impact. She turned back to face him slowly, refusing to show pain.
"You think you are brave. Strong. That you can resist." Nazari's voice was cold. "But you will break. Everyone breaks eventually. And when you do, you will tell me everything."
"Good luck with that."
He left without another word. The door slammed shut and Mara was alone again. She worked her jaw carefully. Nothing broken. The hit had been controlled. Meant to intimidate, not injure. Nazari needed her functional if he wanted information.
She leaned back against the concrete wall and closed her eyes. This wasn't her first time in enemy hands. She'd been through SERE training years ago, back when she was first learning to operate. She knew the playbook. Resist. Deny. Buy time. Trust that help would come.
But a voice in the back of her mind whispered that help might not come this time. Shadow Veil didn't even know where she was. They'd seen her taken but tracking her after that would be nearly impossible. And Logan didn't know she was in Iraq, didn't know she was missing, didn't know she needed him.
That thought hurt worse than Nazari's backhand.
She should have told him. Should have mentioned the deployment. Should have at least sent a message before wheels up saying she loved him. Because she did love him. Had known it for weeks but been too scared to say it. Too worried about what it would mean. Too concerned about the complications.
And now she might die in this concrete room without ever having said the words that mattered.
Mara pushed the thought away. Couldn't afford to go down that road. Couldn't let fear or regret cloud her thinking. She needed to focus on survival. On finding a way out. On staying alive long enough for rescue to arrive or for her to engineer her own escape.
She tested her zip ties again. Still secure. But zip ties had weaknesses if you knew how to exploit them. The trick was getting the right angle, the right amount of force. She'd need something to cut them against. The edge of the cot maybe. Or if she could get to the door, the metal frame.
The guards rotated every four hours based on what she'd observed. Two men usually. Sometimes three. They spoke Arabic among themselves. Occasionally brought her water but no food yet. Keeping her weak. Keeping her dependent.
She had to get out of here. Had to find a way to break free and evade long enough to make contact with her team. Had to survive whatever Nazari threw at her and come out the other side.
Because the alternative was dying here. And Mara had too much left to do. Too many people counting on her. Too many women who needed Shadow Veil to keep operating. And one Delta operator in North Carolina who deserved better than to find out she'd died without ever telling him how she felt.
She'd get out. She just had to figure out how.
