“I had to.” He studied the carpeted floor. “I’m sorry.”
Angry tears blurred her vision. “You’re always sorry.”
Before she could stop him, he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.
“Don’t—” She tried to shove him away, but her body betrayed her. She melted against him. She hated how familiar this felt. How much she had missed him.
He was here. He was alive.
But—she wrenched herself away—he wouldn’t be for long.
“They’re going to kill you.” She held on to the conference table to steady herself. “You were supposed to stay gone. Stay safe.”
“It stopped being safe.”
“They found you?”
“No. They found you.”
Hena shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I—I don’t check socials. I’m always scared they’ll—I don’t know, trace me or something. The other day, though, I—god, I’m so stupid—I looked. I saw Irum’s posts about the wedding.”
He swallowed hard. Met her eyes.
“I saw you. In the background. And I saw…I saw them. They were here. I panicked. I created a fake account and messaged them. Told them to back off and leave you alone.” His mouth pressed tight. “Stupid, I know. I made everything worse.”
“They finally made contact,” she whispered.
“They realized you were the way to smoke me out. They started sending me messages. All the ways they were fucking with you. The snakes. The way they coated the elevator buttons with nut residue.” He shook his head. “They said it would only get worse until I came back to face them. When they showed me your body, the blood pooling around you…I thought you were dead. For a good five minutes, I was sure you were gone.”
Gita.
“They called it a preview,” he said. “If I didn’t come forward tonight, they said they would finish what they’d started.”
“Who arethey?” Hena asked. “Tell me.”
He looked away. “I can’t. You don’t know them like I do. What they can do.”
“After everything that’s happened, do you honestly think you’re protecting me?”
“It wasn’t about you,” he said. “It was to get to me.”
“They’ve been stalking me all week. I deserve to know who it is. Is it a guest? A staff member?”
She glanced at the closed door. She was afraid to ask, but she had to.
“Is it…is it Reza?”
“Please. Don’t.” He shut his eyes. “If I tell you, they’ll kill you. They’ll kill my family. You have no idea what they’re capable of. They could be listening right now.”
She wanted to call him paranoid, except someone had filmed their fight three years ago. Someone had been watching.
A ringtone chimed on the other side of the door. People were surely pressed against it, trying to catch a snippet of their conversation.
She lowered her voice. “So now what?”
“They kill me.”