Page 40 of Finding Fate

Some friend I am.

Instead of answering, I push to all fours to crawl toward the dividing wall and lie along it, facing his side. Dust fills my nose and mouth as it's shifted on the other side.

"I'm conflicted, Poppy." His voice is soft but louder, as if he's lying against the divider mirroring me.

"Why?" I croak. I need water but damn if what little energy I had left I used to crawl to this spot. To him.

"I want to ask what happens out there, where you disappear to during the day, but then again, I don't know if I want to know. You know?"

"Huh?"

"If what they drag you out of here for during the day is what I'm thinking, then I'll get myself fucking killed to make sure they never hurt you or any woman like that again, but then you'd be left here. Alone. See my dilemma, Pops? I want to know, but what will it cost us?"

An invisible hand pushes my face closer to the flimsy wood. Closer to him. My nose brushes against the wall, and I silently wish for some magic spell to make it disappear. I want his big arms around my shoulders, holding me close, protecting and comforting in the same strong hold.

"Chores. Just chores. The worst of their debauchery was always done to the other girls. It’s why you had to get them out. I'm somewhat protected because I'm the general’s bride. No one has touched me. No reason to get yourself killed."

The sounds of the night fill the comfortable silence, almost humming me to sleep until he speaks up once again. "Tell me your story. What brought you here."

"Thought you knew everything," I say with zero humor.

"Maybe I do, but I want to hear your side. Understand why you did it. Help me understand."

I wish he'd just keep talking. Hearing his American accent, learning about his family and life, provides the distraction I desperately need. And retelling what brought me here is the last thing I want to do. I don’t want to remember.

"It's a long story," I finally respond.

"If you haven't noticed, we have a few hours before the sun comes back up. It's just you and me. Well, you and me and the very large cat I think is prowling around the camp."

"What?" My head perks up to look around even though I can’t see a damn thing.

"Something's out there. I can feel it watching us."

"How can you feel that?"

"Show me yours and I'll show you mine."

The dip in his voice, the softness of his tone, sends my insides tensing. And somehow I know he's smiling on the other side. With a sigh, I lift the veil and flip it back. It's too dark for anyone to see me, and removing the extra layers helps make the hot night a fraction more manageable.

"I had one sister. Eight years younger. Everything was great, or so I thought, and then one day she was gone. Lured over here with the hope of having someone who would love her, take care of her. I think that's what hurt the most."

"What's that?"

"I thought I was doing an okay job of taking care of her and our mom. Didn't realize there was anything missing. I loved her. Showed her I loved her. Picked up the slack when Mom was always gone. I thought...." A single tear slips from the corner of my right eye. "When I found out she was gone, I did everything I could. Everything. My mentor and I searched every traffic camera, every feed we could hack into searching for her. And then we did. We followed her cab to the airport, then hacked into the airport security cameras and ran some facial recognition software he'd been enhancing. Her smiling face turned to a camera just as she started down the jetway to the waiting plane to Africa."

More tears roll down to the dirt.

"We got the flight number, then hacked into the airport security in Lagos, but we were too late. By the time we'd gotten that far, she'd already cleared customs ten hours earlier. It was then that I knew—" My shoulders shake as a sob lets loose. "—I knew she was really gone."

The sounds of something brushing and scraping against dirt come from his side, but I don't pay it any attention. My heart cramps and tightens as all the emotions and devastation from those final moments flood back in. He’s somehow opened the dam I put in place to hold back every emotion from those days and following months.

"Okay," Nash says over the scraping noise. "So you knew she was here, but I don't get how you knew—"

"A couple weeks after that, videos with her in them started popping up on the dark web. I'd set up a few programs the day I found her in Africa to alert me if her face, in that region, ever popped up again. I wish I wouldn't have." There's no hiding the tremble in my voice. "Maybe then I wouldn't be this angry. I'd be back home believing she was happy. Instead I have all this hate festering in me. Why couldn't I leave it alone? Why did I keep looking?" I nearly shout, so angry at myself and still wallowing in pain.

"Because you love her." I startle a foot back from the wall and bite back a scream as something brushes against my side. "It's just me. Trying to find your hand. Sorry if I touched... other things." To confirm it's him, fingers drag down my material-covered arm. Flicking the lower covering up, I find his fingers in the dark to interlace with my own. "I would’ve done the same thing."

The brushing of his fingers against mine is the first gentle touch I've had since leaving the States. And it’s amazing. Maybe it’s due to the darkness keeping our features hidden, but there’s no awkwardness with him, no shame or hiding from him. It’s just me. Just him. Like never before, I’m opening up about things no one knows, not even Mac. I keep going, hoping the more I talk, the more the weight of my life will continue to dissolve.

"The videos were on her 'training.' How to train a woman to be the perfect wife, which no one can achieve—he makes sure of that. It's the punishments the general enjoys. And filming them so everyone can see what he’s capable of. Each one was more horrible than the last. After the first two, I couldn't watch them anymore. After that I sent the new videos to Mac for him to watch and verify if it was her. He'd never give me details, which I love him for. He knew... knows how fragile I am. It was cruel, but with his job he's practically seen it all. Then one night, I was up working on something for the FBI when an alert came through. Without thinking, I clicked on it."

Two fingers grip four of mine and squeeze, strengthening my resolve to continue.

"She tried to escape. And that was punishable by death in their eyes." My stomach churns, pushing up what little food I had for breakfast. Shaking from his grasp, I roll, push to all fours and vomit. For several moments, I dry-heave and sob. "I watched them kill my sister while she begged for forgiveness. Begged to go home." Her terrified voice, the final image of her lifeless body, is burned into my memory, something I'll never be able to forget. It's what keeps me awake at night. What drove me to near insanity. "They laughed in her face and killed her on camera. He did it himself, the general. And now I want him to pay. Pay for taking my sister. Pay for driving Mom to kill herself after grief dug its ruthless talons into her heart and drained her will to live. I want him dead. I want him to be scared and beg and suffer. If that makes me a lunatic, or just as evil as those bastards out there, I don’t give a damn."

My trembling arms give out and I drop my face to the dirt, just missing the mess I made.

"You’re not evil, Pops. Don’t ever think that about yourself again, you hear me? Never again. If you want to kill him, do it. I believe in you, Pops. Kill him. When you see him, don’t think twice about it. Just kill him. And if you can't, if you want me to do it for you, I'll do it with a fucking smile on my face." Those fingers find my bare arm once again, caressing up and down. "And here I thought I knew everything about you. Obviously I was fucking wrong."

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