One Night

Chapter Twenty

Zayen

"Why not?"

She glares at me, as if I didn't help her by stopping her from being hurt further by whoever that man—if I can call him a man—was. "Because you didn't say please."

"Oh, looks like getting the shit beaten out of you has taught you sarcasm."

She looks me over. "You would know."

"Ouch." That's kind of funny.

Maybe I should just leave her here. I don't know what I was thinking, trying to be a hero.

I sigh and the sound seems to rumble off the walls. "Fine, be a brat." I'll leave her. She can find her own way. Maybe Akilah was right. I wasted my time.

"Wait." Her voice comes out softer, more vulnerable. I stop, already half way out the carved entrance, but don't turn to face her. "I can't. . ." Her words come out shaky. "I can't move. Everything feels numb. I can't."

I'm an idiot for feeling sympathy towards her. But she just sounds so sweet and—I turn to her, keeping my expression hard.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't leave you here for the wolves," I demand.

Her eyes widen and she tries to push herself up to her feet, only for her arms to give out. "Wolves?" Her throat seems to be closing up.

I don't know if there are wolves. None of the stories about Ardifa have actually been confirmed. But if there are giant men with eyes as black as the depths of the ocean, then wolves sure are a possibility.

"Give me a reason."

"I . . ." She seems to struggle to come up with one. "I can't let her die because of me." Her big brown eyes seem to shine, the light from above falling on her like it is drawn towards her.

Her mother. She's playing the sympathy card. It's the only reason she is here, doing this. That is the one, probably the only, thing we have in common.

"One condition."

She manages to lift her arm to the back of her head and lightly presses it, wincing as she does. "What?"

"If I don't make it back for any reason, promise me you'll take care of Saad and Aya." I step back into the dim cave. My eyes trail away to the man whose skin has begun to go a greyish colour. Do that, and I'll protect you with my life for as long as I can."

"Saad and Aya. Those kids?" she asks, her gaze following mine to the decapitated man. At least the blood has stopped pooling. Still, she tries to shift away and fails.

"Yes."

"Who are they to you?"

"It doesn't matter. Do we have a deal?"

"Are they yours?"

How old does she think I am? I would have been fifteen years old when Saad was born. "No."

"Then why—?"

"Do we have a deal?" I evade the question. It's none of her business. She doesn't need to know anything personal about me.

"Tell me who they are," she pushes. "You know how much I care about my mother. You know where I live. You know the worst of my actions. Let me at least know who they are, if you want me to protect them."

She puts forward a good argument, but . . . "You are not in the position to bargain, Sariq."

I could almost swear she nearly smiled when I called her that. She takes a moment to consider. "Fine, I'll protect them if you don't make it back."