‘Your sons aren’t here because they’re ashamed of you and what you’ve become. They’re the ones who called to warn me of your attack.’
There was a low, menacing growl from the man beside her. She wanted to scream at Khaled to stop. Stop baiting him. But the fingers wrapped around her throat had tightened. All she could do was watch in horror as Khaled came closer.
Then her hip glanced off another side table. She remembered there was a vase of flowers on it. She stretched out, groping for it. Her fingers found the rim and she heaved it upwards, aiming at George’s head. It was only a glancing blow, but the drench of cold water and the falling stems covering them both loosened his grip just enough for her to wrench free.
She had split seconds while George pushed sodden hair from his eyes. She couldn’t hope to wrestle his gun away or to disarm his two guards. She had one thing. The protection of her body.
Praying that her shaking legs would support her, Lily took off. Aiming straight for Khaled.
He bellowed at her to get down. When she was two paces out he sidestepped, moving to snatch her to safety behind him.
No.
She launched herself straight at his chest.
Their eyes locked. In his was such a hollowed-out terror she almost believed he cared for her. But not enough to put her needs first, to be honest with her and let her go.
Her heart shattered all over again just as two pistol shots sounded behind her.
Something slammed into her back. Hard. The extra momentum was enough to send Khaled flailing backwards, and her body went down with him.
There was the rattle of automatic weapons, and strangled cries as booted feet pounded by.
Urgent hands turned her onto her side, pressed against her back. A voice yelled her name over and over, begging her to stay with him.
Stay with him?
‘Why? You don’t really want me,’ she said out loud...or perhaps not. It was getting harder to breathe and, though she tried, she couldn’t keep her eyes open.
George must have hit her harder than she’d thought. Her mouth was filling with blood and everything else was blurred, coming from further and further away.
At last only one thing punctured the gathering gloom: an unearthly, inhuman roar sounding next to her, like an animal in unspeakable pain.
Then there was nothing but the quiet and the dark and Lily, unbearably weary and sad, gave herself up to it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THEREWASAdrift of voices. Lily tried to focus. Was she awake or dreaming? It was so hard to tell.
‘Sir, you cannot remain in this room all the time. The patient is in my care and I must insist you leave.’
A woman was speaking. There was an indefinable accent to her English, but no mistaking the determined tone.
‘Come on, mate. It’s been nearly three days.’
This from a man, gently cajoling.
‘The Sister is right. It won’t hurt to step out for a while.’
‘I will not.’
The third voice—also male, but not in the least conciliatory—sent a ripple of unease through Lily. Who was he that she should be afraid of him?
‘I have to be here when she wakes.’
Now he sounded desperate.
‘I have to be, Nate.’