Page 157 of Whisper

Ryan kept looking beyond Kris. “Haddad’s remains have already been transported back to the United States. His mother, his legal next of kin, retrieved his body from Dover Air Force base yesterday. In accordance with Islamic burial practices, she requested an immediate repatriation of his remains and a next-day burial. Her wishes were granted. He’s most likely already in the ground.”

His soul plunged again as the bottom fell out of his very precarious grip on the world. “You have no right—”

“No, you have no rights. Not to him. Not anymore.”

He stood and spun, closing his eyes. The world was upending, tumbling like a car crash, like a speeding train heading for catastrophe. He tried to walk, tried to flee Ryan’s office.

One step, and he collapsed. He gasped. It came out like a wail, a shriek. He screamed again, and again. “You can’t!” he hollered. Tears and snot and spit puddled beneath him. “You can’tdothis!”

“It’s already done.” Ryan whispered. “You’re on the next flight out of here. Thirty days’ suspension from duty. You’ll report to headquarters for reassignment when your suspension is over. Unless you resign first.”

Footsteps, Ryan rising from his desk. Padding toward him. Hovering above him. Kris couldn’t look up. Couldn’t stand to see the smug superiority in Ryan’s eyes, the sick victory he knew was there.

“It would have been easier if you’d died with everyone else,” Ryan choked out. “You would have been a hero, instead of the one we’re all blaming.” He strode to his office door. Hesitated. “Take the time you need.”

He left, shutting Kris inside. Alone.

Alone, forever. For the rest of his days, alone. Without the love of his life by his side. Without his husband.

Without even saying goodbye for the last time.

David had been ripped from him. By al-Qaeda, and by the CIA. By the world, and by fate. By people who hated them for loving each other, for daring to put their love first, before everything else.

But most of all, David had been killed byKris.

Pakistan Northwestern Frontier

Bajaur Province

Federally Administered Tribal Areas

Six Days After the Blast

The car bounced and swerved over the rocky ground.

Every bump jolted through his body, sent shockwaves through his bones. His ribs were on fire, broken in so many places. He could feel their pinch against his lungs with every inhale, like he was sucking the bones deep inside his organs. He tasted copper, iron in his mouth. Dried blood coated his lips.

David’s memories were hazy, images floating out of sequence. Driving. Hamid crunching chips. Kris’s smile. Heat, too much heat. Bones snapping. Kris, whispering his marriage vows. A jihadi grabbing his head, staring down at him. Throwing him into a truck. The way Kris’s eyes slowly opened, smile on his lips, after they’d kissed for what felt like hours.

Fists. Kicks. A tarp. He’d known how it would end as soon as he saw the tarp.

His thoughts had gone to Kris, of course, and he’d composed the most perfect love letter he’d never send to him as he huddled on the bloodstained tarp, taking kick after kick into his body.My love, you are the stars and moon of my life. You are the peace my soul has always sought. You were the last gift of a vengeful God, and the only thing that kept my faith alive. Because of our love. Because you loved me. If you exist, Allah must have created you. Nature could not shape someone so perfect as you are for me. My soul, my love, I will always watch over you.

The world had gone fuzzy after that. He remembered a speech, a video recording. Frantic shouting. Gunfire, far away. Hands grabbing him and carrying him down, deep down, into a tunnel cut into the dirt floor of the mosque. Darkness and dust, his feet dragging as someone hauled him away, pain like a rake that scraped his brain as he was dragged through a black tunnel that seemed to twist and wind forever. Finally, sunlight had speared his eyeballs, sent lances straight through his brain. He’d mumbled, tried to roll away. Tried to escape, but his feeble flailing did nothing.

The last thing he remembered was being dropped into the trunk of another car and driven away.

Why was he still alive? What were they waiting for? He’d rather it all end quickly.

Kris, my love. I will always be with you. In this life and the next. I swear it.

The car drove uphill. He pressed against the trunk’s hatch, broken bones grinding. He gritted his teeth, tried to push through the pain, the fire in his lungs.Let it end, let it all end.

Finally, he heard brakes squealing, felt the car rock to a stop. A man scrambled from the front seat, racing around the car. The trunk opened, and sunlight stabbed David, arching around Al Jabal’s scowling face.

Al Jabal reached for him, hauled him from the trunk.

“What is this?” An older man’s voice, shocked, rose from behind the car.