“His breathing was ragged— it was too soon for him to be up— but he refused to lie in bed any longer. He was not dying, and so he must continue to carry out Allah's will. His purpose had not yet been fulfilled. With every breath he wished he could be in Vancouver to carry out the operation. But he could not. As much as he loathed having someone else take care of it, he had no other choice at present. Carried on the hot, dry breeze, the earthy scents of dust and horses mixed, transporting him bac...k to when he was a boy and he used to race his father's horses across the Syrian desert. The familiar smell always did that, just as it always brought the memory of the smell of blood and his beloved mare's shrill cries of pain when she lay dying. Her large, gentle eyes had stared into his as he'd cut her throat to end her suffering. She had died because of his teacher and the SEAL now with Bryn McAllister-Daoud. He shook his head to clear the horrific memories and entered the dark building, soothing himself with the knowledge they would receive their punishment tonight.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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