Haris didn’t answer right away. Finally—
“I was,” he said.
“I thought as much.” She took a step toward Hena, then another. Each step hurt. Hena could see it in her face. But Ammi kept coming until she stood by her side.
“Uncle and I were close,” Haris said. “I…I loved him.”
“You were the son he never had.” Her mother gave him a knowing smile. “He spoke highly of you. I know how you grieved his loss.”
Haris’s expression softened at the acknowledgment as beads of sweat formed on Hena’s forehead. What was goingon?
Haris took a step toward her. “Auntie, thank goodness you’re here. It’s like you said. I wanted to bring her to safety, but she was spooked by Nasir. She thinks everyone’s after her.”
“You need to put the gun down, Hena.” Her mother turned to her. Her words were calm. Commanding. “We don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”
“Ammi, I can’t. You don’t understand.”
Ammi looked at her. For a moment she didn’t speak. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Honey, I do.” Her voice broke the slightest bit. She coughed, then cleared her throat. She was struggling to breathe. Every word was painful. “Listen to me,” she said. “Ineed you to hear me. If I ever meant anything to you, you’ll give me the gun.”
The crack in her voice. The term of endearment. The fierce look in her eyes. It broke something open inside Hena. Because she recognized that look from the night her father laid his hands on her for the last time. The night she was sure she wouldn’t survive.
The night her mother stepped between them and saved her life.
Tears blurred her vision. Suddenly, she didn’t see a frail woman before her—she saw the woman Ammi was all those years ago. When she’d walked in on him. His hands in tight fists. When she’d called out his name. When she’d talked him down one final time.
Henaknewshe shouldn’t. Every instinct in her screamed to hold on to the gun. But that look. That voice.
Trembling, she lowered it into her mother’s waiting hands.
“Thank you, Auntie.” Haris exhaled. He moved toward her. His mouth curled into a sneer. “Now we can—”
But he didn’t get to finish his sentence. He didn’t even get to take the step that had felt so guaranteed.
Because her mother took the gun Hena had given her, raised it straight at him, and fired. The shot rang out, deafening in the enclosed space.
Haris staggered back, a dark stain blooming across his chest. His eyes sprang wide. He looked down at the wound.
Then he crumpled to the ground.
Ammi watched his still body. She shot again. Then again. Three extra rounds.
“Ammi. Stop.” Hena shivered. “He’s already dead.”
Her mother eyed him with a grim expression.
“With monsters like this, you don’t take chances.”
28
•
He was dead.
Haris was dead.
Hena swayed as she looked down at his lifeless body, her mind trying to process what had just happened. The cabin door swung open again. Khala, pushing a wheelchair, rushed inside. Hena’s mother slumped into it as if she’d been holding herself together on sheer will alone.