Page 129 of Samson

She laughed, then winced. “Ouch. Whatever you do, don’t make me laugh.”

“Oh boy. That is going to be tough. Now I want to do it more than anything.”

She bumped him in the shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, leading her out of the room.

As they walked past the next room, the TV was on. Delilah glanced up and saw images of the embassy and stopped.

“It’s strange seeing it on TV.”

“We’re taking you live to the scene where we have breaking news.”

Delilah moved closer to the door. “Something’s happening.” The camera panned to a rescue dog barking.

“That’s right, Ella…,”said a reporter standing outside the permitter.“We’ve just seen an increase in activity here at the scene of the explosion. From what we can gather, authorities have found evidence that there is a survivor among the rubble.”

“Can I help you?” said the man in the bed.

Delilah waved him into silence while she watched video footage of rescuers shouting to one another as they removed pieces of debris.

She turned to Luca. “You have to take me there.”

“D, come on. What do you think they’re going to find?”

“I don’t know. What if Demir survived?”

“Even if he has, they’re not going to let you anywhere near him. Let me take you home so you can rest. Agent Trevors will contact you as soon as he knows anything. You’re not well enough to stand around hoping for a tidbit of information to come your way. You’ll probably find out just as fast from watching the news at my place.”

“Please.”

Luca frowned. “You won’t give up until I take you, will you?”

“No.”

“Okay, but if this goes on too long, I’m dragging you out of there.”

“I won’t go anywhere until I know what they find.”

“You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“Yes.”

“All right. Let’s go.”

Samson opened his eyes to the same blackness he’d lived in for months. For a moment, he thought he was still in the cell and had dreamed the explosion. But then he tried to move.

A heavy weight on his chest made it impossible to move and hard to breathe. He wiggled his fingers and toes, even though it would make no difference. He was buried under a pile of rubble with no way to escape.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, stilling his breath to ease the tightness.

A muffled clanging brought his eyes open again. And he listened. A dog barked, and someone yelled, but it was distant. Too distant.

“Help,” he tried to call out, but his voice was small and choked. He coughed, sending a searing pain through his abdomen.

The dog barked again.

Slowly, he took in as much air as he had room for and tried again. “Help.” But it wasn’t enough.

He let go of the small spark of hope that had ignited for a moment and gave in to despair, wishing he had died in the blast. He shouldn’t have climbed the stairs. If he had remained in the room with the bomb, he could have made sure to end it quickly.

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