Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
My heart swells, and my cheeks sting with how wide I start smiling.
Malik ducks through the frame and makes his way to the table. I expected an entourage of armed soldiers at his back to fend off whatever Omar might throw at him. But it’s him alone, walking straight into the viper’s nest.
Omar’s face instantly scrunches in fury.
“How dare you show your face here?” he spits, launching out of his chair with a sausage finger wagging in Malik’s direction. “Who do you think you are to make orders to my son?”
“He’s a coward who fled in combat and continues to flee at the first sign of threat,” Malik returns.
“Fled in combat?” Omar scoffs. “He was on the front lines. A hero to his country. He nearly died—”
“At my hand.” Malik lifts a palm out to Omar. “He was a coward, a deserter, hunted by his own kind.”
“Is this true, Nasir?” Omar turns to his son.
Nasir can’t get a full sentence out, and it’s more than enough answer for Omar. He slaps the boy with a thunderous clap, but not another word is shared between them.
“Nasir’s alive because I willed it. Because he was a stepping stone to something greater. And where you’ve wasted my talent, Omar, it will flourish once you’re gone,” Malik finishes.
“Gone? You forget where you are, Malik,” Omar snorts. “Guards, show him what happens to those who oppose me.”
On Omar’s order, all four men point their guns at Malik. No one fires here, and I’m sure their threat is meant to get him out of the room.
“Ah, shit, you got me. Guess I’m losing my touch.” Malik raises his hands in surrender and starts walking backward to the door. Even in the face of death, his tone is mocking, and his lips are twisted in a devious grin.
“No, stop, don’t—” I finally find my words, and they come out in a thunderous yawp. I jump out of my seat and lift a pleading hand out to Omar.
He responds with the same sausage finger dangling in front of my eyes. “Sit down and shut your fucking mouth.”
My head snaps from Omar to Malik and back again. Dad’s sitting around doing nothing. It’s all too much for me to take.
“You’re going to regret that,” Malik growls. His hands fall back to his side, and though his eyes hold the same fury they had last night, the grin doesn’t fade from his face.
“The Pale Prophet in all his might.” Omar feigns being impressed. “How many bullets have you dodged, huh? How many do you think you still can?”
“Let’s find out,” Malik says with the slick coolness of an action hero.
And I’m left praying to whichever god will listen to get him out of this safely.
13
MALIK
In the heart of danger, I thrive.
Tiny red dots dart across my suit jacket from laser pointers attached to assault rifles fixed on my chest. I feel no fear at their threat. I’ve been here before, a thousand times over, staring death square in the eye.
It’s your time, he says, holding his bony hand to me.
But once again, I must decline. Until Melina is safe, I can’t leave.
The terror in Melina’s eyes wipes the smirk off my face. It’s easy to forget she’s the reason I feel so empowered now. She roused the beast that lay so dormant inside me for so long, and though I feel I’m in my element, I shouldn’t be so carefree when her safety hangs in the balance. I’m not living for myself anymore; I’m doing it for her. I want to pull her into my arms, whisper everything will be okay and that this is exactly what I expected.
“You see, Omar, for years, I bit my tongue, acted on all your childish whims, and played the good little lap dog that could handle every problem.” I walk behind Melina while I speak. When I get to her chair, I place my hands on her shoulders and stroke them gently with my thumbs. “But don’t get it mistaken, I’ve been gunning for your seat since the day we met.”
Melina takes my wrist in her hand, tilting her head up to me. Her deep blue eyes fill me with the confidence I need to finish this, no matter how hard it’s going to be.
“You dare lay a hand on my son’s wife?” Omar’s voice booms through the dining hall.
“That piece of shit wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like this. He’s better off with his whores.” I smile at my own joke.
Every breath Omar takes is a raspy growl. His face has turned several shades darker with his ever-growing fury. But somehow, when he speaks, his voice is diplomatic. “You’ve come here with a chip on your shoulder, and you’re parading through my walls like you own them already. Tell me what it is you think you’re going to get out of this, Pale Prophet.”