39

KYRA

C offee sloshed inside the carafe as Max made his way back, balancing it on a tray that also contained cups and various packets.

A smile tugged at her lips.

He moved slowly, not because there was turbulence or because he had difficulty balancing the tray. After all, immortals were very well coordinated, and especially a trained Guardian like Max. He was just being super careful and deliberate so as not to spook her sisters, treating them like a pack of wild animals that might bolt at any sudden movement.

She couldn't blame him. They were a little scary, but she appreciated that. Her sisters were not meek women, despite the way they had been raised and what had been expected from them in their stifling society.

Did they take after their mother ?

A pang of sorrow pierced through Kyra's heart as she thought about the mother she couldn't remember and would never get to know. She'd passed away years ago, and Kyra wondered if it had been from sorrow over the daughter who had disappeared in America. She doubted very much that her father had shared with his wife what he had done. Her mother would have never agreed to that and would have found a way to get her out.

"Have I missed anything?" Max asked as he put the tray down on the pullout table between the seats.

"Not much." Kyra smiled at him. "I was just saying that I was with the Kurdish resistance for over two decades."

"That's impossible," Rana said, accepting a cup from Max with a nod of thanks. "You can't be older than twenty-five."

"I'm forty-nine," Kyra replied. "Soon to be fifty."

Parisa frowned, studying Kyra's face with that analytical gaze that seemed to be a family trait. "First, you said that you were Jasmine, Kyra's daughter. Then, when I challenged you about it, you said that we are related differently."

"I did say that." Kyra clasped her hands together. "The truth is too fantastic to reveal casually, and given the circumstances, I couldn't explain it at the time."

Soraya set her untouched coffee aside. "Just say whatever you need to say."

Kyra took a deep breath. This was it—the moment she'd been rehearsing in her mind since they'd boarded the plane. "I am Kyra. Your eldest sister. Jasmine is my daughter, and she is with your daughters in America, taking care of them while I'm here, saving you from the same people who kidnapped them."

The silence that followed was suffocating. The four sisters exchanged glances—confusion, disbelief, and alarm passing between them like a current.

"If what you're saying is true, and you're Kyra, how can you look this young? Plastic surgery?"

It would have been so easy to say that, yes, plastic surgery made her look the same age as her daughter, but she needed to tell them all of it. "I don't age like other people."

"How come?" Rana asked, her eyes never leaving Kyra's face.

Yasmin leaned forward, her features still grief-stricken, but her gaze no less sharp. "Why would you make such an absurd claim? What do you want from us?"

"I want nothing from you except maybe rekindling the love we once had for each other," Kyra said. "Learn to know each other again. I know how it sounds, and frankly, if it hadn't happened to me, I wouldn't believe it either."

"Tell us something only Kyra would have known," Soraya challenged. "Something personal that she told me before leaving for the university."

Kyra's throat tightened. "I can't. I don't remember anything from before I escaped the asylum. All my memories from my childhood and even my time in America are gone. I didn't even remember having a daughter until she found me in a military compound in Tahav."

"How convenient," Soraya said with a dismissive wave.

"No, not convenient at all," Kyra countered, heat rising in her voice. "You have no idea what I've been through, what was done to me. But the worst part was not knowing who I was and where I came from. I was fortunate to escape the asylum with rebel females who took me under their wings and led me to the resistance. If not for them, I would have been collected off the streets and brought back to that hell hole, that den of depravity and suffering."

The vehemence in her voice must have finally convinced her sisters of her sincerity, or maybe she'd just scared them into silence, but none of them said anything, and they all lowered their gazes.

"Perhaps I can help with some context," Max offered.

Kyra desperately needed to collect herself, so even though she had not planned on stopping at that point, she nodded. "Go ahead."

Her sisters turned their attention to him with varying degrees of wariness.

"Here is what we found out about Kyra when we investigated her disappearance on her daughter's behalf," Max began. "Kyra married an American while studying in the US and had a daughter with him. She changed her name, hoping to escape her father's detection. She told her husband that she feared her father would kill her when he discovered that she had married outside of the faith."

"Our father was strict, but he wasn't a fanatic," Yasmin protested.

Kyra's bitter laugh surprised even herself. "No? Then explain why he searched for me, dragged me away from my family, and committed me to an insane asylum."

The sisters fell silent again.

"According to what we've learned," Max continued, "your father somehow managed to get Kyra out of the US and into a mental institution in Tehran. He called in a favor from a very dark individual who was supposed to hypnotize and drug her until she forgot about her family in America."

"Is that even possible?" Rana asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm living proof that yes, it can be done. He wanted me to forget about my husband and daughter so I could be married off to someone of his choosing," Kyra said. "Someone who wouldn't mind marrying a woman who wasn't pure anymore but would pretend that she was, so our father's reputation wouldn't be tarnished. He probably found someone who owed him a favor."

Soraya's expression had grown increasingly troubled. "Our father was cold and ambitious. I can see him doing something like that."

"He was willing to erase me to preserve his honor," Kyra said. "He was a selfish monster."

Soraya nodded. "I'm prepared to suspend my disbelief and accept this part of your story. But what does it have to do with you staying young?"

"The man our father sent to erase my past took advantage of the situation," Kyra said. "He violated me repeatedly while I was drugged, and as an unexpected side effect, he induced my transition into immortality."

"Immortality?" Soraya shook her head, pushing herself to her feet. "Up until this point, I was willing to suspend disbelief, but this is absurd."

"Sit down, Soraya," Parisa said quietly. "Let's hear Kyra out."

"Why? So she can feed us more fairy tales about immortality and hypnotic amnesia?" Soraya remained standing, arms folded across her chest. "We've been through enough today without being subjected to these ridiculous claims."

Kyra turned to Max, desperation clawing at her chest. "Perhaps you can explain this part better than me."

Max nodded, setting his coffee aside and leaning forward, his expression earnest. "I know how this sounds. If I were in your position, I'd be equally skeptical. But the world is far stranger than you suspect, and humans share this planet with other intelligent beings. Some of them are good, and some are evil. Kyra has been unlucky enough to encounter the evil kind." He leaned over and wrapped his arm around Kyra's shoulders. "But she has been found by the good ones, and things are only going to get better from here."