Page 28 of Dalla’s Royal Guards (Second Chance #3)

Nineteen

The hotel room door clicked softly shut behind them, muffling the hum of conversation filtering in from down the hallway.

Inside, the suite felt tighter now, the air charged with too many secrets and too little time.

Dalla breathed out, trying to push away the sensation that the walls were closing in around her.

Nasser swept the room with a soldier’s eye, his posture tense as he passed by the kitchenette and checked the windows. Musad stood by the entry, his attention never straying far from Harlem.

Dalla crossed the living room area and turned on the lamp next to the couch. Folding her arms around her waist, she waited until Nasser returned to the living room after checking the bedroom and bathroom.

Harlem remained quiet. She watched as he walked to the window, his gaze sweeping the city skyline before he turned back, calm and commanding.

“This morning, Kramer O’Toole’s IT tech accessed the CCTV cameras from the square where you appeared. It was a lapse on my part, I’m afraid. We—I—should have been monitoring the situation more closely. I wasn’t expecting your sudden, rather dramatic appearance,” he said quietly.

“What was on the video?” Musad asked.

Harlem’s eyes locked with hers.

“They saw you appear.”

Dalla’s stomach clenched. She wasn’t sure what her returns would look like to the unsuspecting, but from the expression in Harlem’s eyes, it hadn’t been good.

“Wh-what did it show?” she asked in a low voice.

Harlem sighed and shook his head before he answered.

“It was—let’s just say it was a surreal moment.

” He paused, watching her. “I believe all the proof of it has been erased, but there is no way of being sure—and there is no erasing their memory of it. I have a friend who physically checked their equipment, but there is still a chance that something important was missed—there always is—and they are still likely to act on what they know.”

A frustrated “Damn it!” escaped Musad’s lips as he shot his brother a worried frown while a grim mask settled over Nasser’s face.

Dalla shivered as an icy dread washed over her.

Pain coursed through her as she studied Musad and Nasser’s tight expressions.

Her presence would put the men she loved in peril.

“We must assume that they know who you are. Your image is plastered all over Kashir, after all. We must also assume they have enough suspicions about what you are to make you a target,” Harlem advised.

Dalla’s fingers twisted into each other.

She forced them apart. “What—What should I do?” Her eyes narrowed.

“If we assume their proof actually is gone, that limits the number of people involved. Do we bait a trap to capture one of their warriors? Find out for sure how many people are involved and where to find them? It would be a start, anyway, wouldn’t it? ”

“There are better ways to track information now. Their warriors would likely not even know the full scope of who is involved. But I believe there are two operatives already in this hotel. I don’t have names—yet—and, nothing concrete.

Just a gut feeling.” Harlem turned to Nasser and Musad.

“When you’ve lived as long as Dalla and I have, you learn to trust your instincts.

” He gave a pointed look at the hallway door.

“It’s only a matter of time before they learn which room you’re in. ”

Nasser gave a brief nod and moved toward the kitchenette, already reaching for his phone. “I’ll contact Donovan and the rest of our team. Let them know what’s going on.”

“They can’t—” she started to protest before she shook her head. Donovan and the others already knew about her. It was pointless to conceal that she wasn’t normal. She felt frustrated. She didn’t know how to fight in this new world. The rules had changed.

Musad crossed to the bedroom, tapping out a message on his own device. “I’ll speak with Raja. We’ll need safe passage out of Simdan.”

Harlem nodded. “That is smart. Raja will help you. Get her to Narva. You’ll have more protection there.”

“What about you?” she asked, staring at Harlem.

Harlem chuckled, walked over to her, and ran his hands along her arms.

“I have powerful friends in this world who know how to fight fire with fire. It is you that I worry about,” he quietly replied.

The weight of his words pressed down on Dalla’s chest. She understood, suddenly, how tightly connected all the warriors on both sides of this conflict were, how quickly more warriors could be brought in on either side.

She did not have the slightest idea how to strategize to account for that.

Standing near the sofa, Dalla wrapped her arms tightly around herself and felt the men around her gathering power through their modern devices as if they were Njord gathering a storm to stir the sea.

It’s happening again. My time here will be short.

The knowledge seared through her. Her gaze flicked between them—three powerful men moving as if they were already under fire. And it was her fault. All of it.

Because I existed. Because I returned.

Harlem’s eyes met hers, and something in his expression softened.

“Why did I return if I can’t protect them?” she asked.

“Perhaps they were meant to protect you this time.”

She gave a shaky laugh. “You know that isn’t how it works. At least, it never has in the past. I thought I was only meant to save the child, but…”

She watched the emotions flashing across Musad’s face as he spoke to the man on the other line. In the background, she could hear Nasser’s quiet voice as he answered questions and gave instructions to Donovan.

She turned toward Harlem, her voice barely audible. “What are we, Harlem? Why me? Why am I cursed to keep coming back? Why—why would any God give me a chance to find love only to rip it from me?”

Then he looked at her—really looked at her. “I’ve spent centuries asking that question. I still don’t have the answer. Have you thought it might not be a curse, but a way of timelines correcting themselves? Perhaps you were meant to find your place in time. You just haven’t yet.”

Her heart stopped. “And if I do? If this is my time, what happens?”

His hesitation was her answer.

“Perhaps you’ll find love… and peace. I don’t know. There—” He stopped and shook his head. “I don’t want to give you false hope.”

Indecision tore at her. She could see that he was holding something back. She bit her lip and nodded, her throat tightening.

“I just wanted to know if there was a way that I could stay,” she whispered, “here, with them, this time, instead of… dying.”

“Do you love them?” Harlem asked softly.

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Maybe I can give you an answer,” he said, “in a few days. Let me look deeper. If there’s a way, I’ll find it.”

She blinked back tears and nodded. Her hand drifted toward him, resting briefly on his arm. “Don’t lie to me. You said you don’t want to give me false hope. Whatever you do, don’t lie to me. No matter what you find out.”

“I never have, and I never will,” he said gently.

Behind them, Musad stepped closer, his dark eyes unreadable.

“Raja is sending an escort. They’ll be here in less than an hour. He’s arranged a helicopter to take us to Narva.”

Dalla looked between Musad and Harlem. Something passed between the two men—silent, powerful, unspoken.

She opened her mouth to question it, but stopped. She trusted them. She trusted their understanding of this world. Someday she may understand it herself, but that time was not now.

Harlem turned to her. “I’ll be in contact with you in a few days. I’ll bring you answers.”

“How?” she asked.

He smiled. “Don’t worry. I have my ways.”

He stepped toward the door, pausing as Nasser blocked the way between the living room and the bedroom.

Then, he was gone.

Dalla breathed out, staring at the now-empty doorway. Behind her, Musad placed a warm hand on her lower back.

“We need to get going,” he said softly.

She nodded, leaning slightly into him. A shiver of unease ran through her. What was on the video Harlem had told them about? Did it hold the answers to her questions?

Stella tapped her nails against the side of her espresso cup, the rhythm sharp, steady, and entirely devoid of patience.

“Any day now, genius,” she muttered, legs crossed, one blood-red, high-top tennis shoe bouncing.

Kyle hunched over his laptop, seated beside her in the open lounge area near the café. His hair was a mess, his shirt untucked, and his fingers were a blur across the keyboard as he mumbled half-formed curses at the firewall he was trying to breach.

Her gaze flicked across the mezzanine level of the Simdan Hotel. People passed by—tourists snapping photos, businessmen in tailored suits, a gaggle of children giggling as they followed their parents toward the elevators. Everything looked normal.

Except that my target is getting away because of the bumbling idiot with acne, she thought crossly.

Finally, Kyle exhaled and turned the laptop toward her. “Got it. Room 1420, in-suite. Top floor.”

Stella arched a brow. “Took you long enough.”

His face flushed with resentment. “You try doing it with a cellphone and a piece-of-shit laptop, and see how fast you can hack into a security system like this.”

“Watch your mouth, nerd. I’m surprised Detri hasn’t killed you—yet,” she responded in a flat tone.

Kyle shot her another nasty look before he reached for the phone next to him. He used it to tap into the hotel’s internal security cameras and slid the device across the table.

“There. Happy now?” he asked.

Stella picked up the phone. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the feed. The camera angled down the hotel hallway, filling the screen—muted grays, modern sconces, a potted plant at the end of the corridor.