Page 31 of The Last Strike

“Have you ever been mugged, Theodora?” Asher asked.

She frowned. “What? No,” she said, clearly thrown off by his line of questioning.

“But you and your mother were admitted to hospital and reported as being mugged,” Asher said.

Theodora paused, her eyes far away for a moment. She looked back to Asher.

“We weren’t mugged; we were attacked by a group of men that I believe my father sent. They were Rebels—I know that because after months of searching for information, I finally matched the face of one of the men to a photograph on the internet,” she said, maintaining eye contact.

“What makes you believe your father sent them?” Asher asked.

“Because our security teams failed to fight back. It was pitiful. They fought just enough to make a show of it, but no more than that,” she said with a heavy sigh. She looked behind Asher to where James was standing. “If they’d fought like him, we wouldn’t have been hurt.”

Asher nodded. “Why would your father do that?”

Theodora ground her jaw. “Because he wanted to teach us a lesson. My father teaches with violence, not words.”

“What was the lesson?” Asher pressed.

“Not to get in his way,” she said flatly.

“Elaborate,” Asher said tightly, in no mood for delays.

“It was stupid,” she said, shaking her head as she looked at her feet. “A young politician was doing good work for our poor. My mother and I decided to visit him and find out more about his initiatives, thinking we might be able to help him. When my father found out, he was furious.” She looked to Asher. “I’d never seen him like that before, but unsurprisingly, my mother didn’t seem shocked by his outburst. He said we didn’t make decisions on who to support; all decisions had to be run past him. He said that publicly showing our support for this young politician was irresponsible and had repercussions we knew nothing about. He ranted on and on, his face bright red and his eyes wild.”

“How did that conversation end?” Asher asked.

She looked directly at him. “He said we needed to be taught a lesson, and the next day we were attacked. My father rarely gets his own hands dirty—at least, that was true until recently—but he has always had plenty of men willing to do his dirty work. I’m sure he was somewhere close by, watching.”

Asher needed to look into the political ties of this supposed young politician. If King Khalil had been that worked up, there surely was a good reason for it—a reason he needed to keep secret.

Asher wondered if this was the opportunity to ask Theodora about her mother’s death.

“How did your mother respond to the attack?” he asked. “Did the two of you talk about it? Did you both agree your father was behind it?”

Theodora sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. It took her a moment to speak.

“My mother said never to speak of it. She took the blame for visiting the politician in order to protect me.” Theodora’s eyes welled up and she looked away.

Asher knew he had to tread carefully here, otherwise she might close up. She would cooperate, but he needed to know everything she knew, not just what she wanted to tell him. He needed to use her as a weapon without hurting her.

“Was that a pattern? Sometimes mothers will do anything for their children,” Asher said.

She rubbed her jaw, watching him closely. Her chest rose and fell heavily like she was struggling to breathe as she chose her words.

“Like I said, it was the first time I’d seen that side of my father—probably because my mother protected us from it.” Her voice cracked and she looked away. “The live assassination was a big power play for him, Asher. As far as I know, he always has his men do his work for him so his hands areclean,” she emphasized bitterly.

“They won’t be clean enough,” Asher promised.

He saw something flicker in her eyes. Hope, maybe.

“You’ve rattled him, and he’s making moves he wouldn’t normally make—and that will lead to mistakes,” she said, pulling her lips to the side. “What happens now?”

“Now you stay here with twenty-four-hour security. The more information you can give me, the more of an asset you are and the more motivation I have to keep you alive,” Asher said, crossing his arms over his chest. “He may come for you—to teach us both a lesson.”

She nodded stiffly, like she’d known that was a possibility. Expected it, even.

“I’m sorry to have put you in this position, but I had no other way out. He told me I would spend the rest of my life in that cell, that I should be thankful he hadn’t killed me.” She visibly swallowed. “I’d sat in that cell wishing I were dead.”

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