I’m not sure what I expected when I found him. It’s certainly not this. I’m sitting on thick cushions with a low table before me. My wrists are handcuffed to a D-ring beneath the table and there’s a small, chipped cup of Turkish coffee a few inches from me. The girl who brought it, her hands shook so badly that she spilled some of the thick black liquid onto the saucer. I haven’t touched it yet for the obvious reason that I’m bound. I don’t expect it to be drugged. I know Maliki Remi. He’ll want me alert to fuck with me. Besides, I’m still in shock at the girl’s punishment administered by the guard, wondering how she didn’t cry out as the cane sliced into her ass with a sound that made me flinch.

The monastery wasn’t even in sight before three SUVs drove out to greet me. Surrounding my car, one man held out a rifle, signaling for me to stop. I did. I knew them to be my welcoming committee. I never expected to get inside undetected, but the drive from where I left Hassan’s truck to the guarded gates of the monastery was another two miles, which made me wonder if they’d seen me coming or if Hassan had tipped them off.

It doesn’t much matter now though. I only hope I’d made the right decision to leave Eve behind. I wish I hadn’t drugged her, but she wasn’t going to let me go alone otherwise, and I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t follow me if she did.

But this is between me and Maliki. Eve is a toy to him. Something to play with as long as it’s fun. Something to crush beneath his filthy boot when she loses her shine.

And I guess he’s finished playing his game when I hear his laughter coming from outside the door. I remember the sound, but this time, it chills me.

When that door opens, the girl clears out and the guard stands at attention. I watch as first another guard enters, followed by Ace, followed by Maliki Remi.

He stops once he sees me, as if surprised by my presence. As if he didn’t know I was here.

I study him. He’s older, but it’s not that he’s aged. Not in that way. He looks strange, more feral. More unpredictable. More insane.

“I’d stand, Commander, but…” I trail off, gesturing to the cuffs that bind me to the table. When the guards met me a few miles out, I was searched, weapons confiscated. All I have now are my two hands, which are useless at the moment.

He studies me. I wonder if he’s thrown off by my use of his title. His old title, that is. His expression is strange, it changes infinitesimally as he takes me in, my face, my neck, the edge of ink there, my arms. One tattooed, the other marred by fire.

Ace stands by his side, and I see him in my periphery. My eyes are locked on Malik. I’m not afraid. My heart isn’t pounding. I’m not sure what I feel, actually. All I know is that the names on my back are burning again. Like they’re here with me, the lost souls of the men who shouldn’t have died that night.

Like they’re here for their revenge.

Malik barks an order in Arabic. I’m rusty, but considering how quickly one of the guards comes to uncuff me, I figure out what he said. Once free, I make to stand. A hand falls heavy on my shoulder. It’s the soldier at my back.

“Sit, Zachary.” He always used my full name, and today, I hear a slight accent in his voice. I wonder if it was absent before or if I just never noticed it.

I remain seated. Malik walks toward the table, takes a seat where his back is to the wall and he’s facing the door. He’s relaxed again. He’s fully in command. I lock eyes with Ace, whose black eyes appear not to recognize me. There’s no hostility, but there’s no warmth either. Nothing of the man I’d come to know. To trust.

Trust. Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me? When will I learn?

Malik snaps his fingers. A door opens and the same girl who got her ass caned for spilling my coffee carries in a tray containing two more small cups and a plate of sweets. I guess she knows better than to spill this time because the saucers are clean as she sets everything down and exits the room.

Ace sits waiting at Malik’s side and I give a little shake of my head. He’s like a fucking lapdog.

“You liked Turkish coffee before,” Malik says, his English perfect, his tone like I remember before. “Drink.”

I pick mine up and drink it. It’s almost cold now, but it’s good.

Malik nods, then sips his and picks up a pastry. He pushes the plate toward me, but I decline. He doesn’t offer Ace one. Ace, who is watching me intently as Malik and I take each other’s measure.

“I shot you. Point blank,” I say.

“With blanks,” he responds. “And I was wearing a bulletproof vest.”

“It was a setup?”

He shrugs. “It wasn’t you who was supposed to do it, but I’m flexible. I just needed to be dead.”

“What the hell’s going on, Malik or Maliki or whatever the fuck your name is? Or is multiple personality among your disorders?”

He smiles and sips. “Malik is my given name.”

“Malik. Tell me what the hell is going on. Why this charade?”

“Uncle,” Ace starts after checking his phone. He leans in to Malik and whispers something.

Malik nods. Ace rises and walks out of the room using the same door the girl had. Malik returns his attention to me.

“I really would love to know why you’re doing all this before I kill you,” I say.

“So confident.” His face twists into something dark. “So arrogant.”

“I trusted you.”

“That’s not your fault, Zachary. I’m an excellent liar.”

“What am I doing here? Why am I not dead?”

“You’re too useful to be dead. It’d be a waste to kill you.” There’s a sound in the hallway, a scuffle of some kind. We both glance toward the door, and Malik smiles, rising as he finishes his sentence. “Although, I will if I have to.”

The door opens and once again, when I begin to rise, that hand falls on my shoulder. But when I see Eve being brought inside, instinct kicks in and in two moves, the soldier is on his back on the floor, my boot crushing his windpipe, my hand closed over his gun, ready to take it. Use it.

“No, no, no,” Malik says calmly, and when I turn my head, Armen’s holding Eve against him, a blade at her neck.

I stop. Take my hand from the weapon. Move my foot.

“Let her go,” I command.

Armen’s icy eyes lock on mine, but he doesn’t do what I say. Not that I expect him to.

Malik moves toward us, looks down at the guard who is slowly making his way up to his feet. Malik shakes his head, a smile on his lips. One that could be tender if it wasn’t lethal.

“Zachary,” he says, eyes still on the fallen soldier. “I changed my mind. Take the weapon and put a bullet between his eyes.”

I look at Malik and realize in that moment that this is a different man than I knew. This one, he’s ruthless. Evil.

When I don’t move, he meets my stare. “Her life or his. Your choice.”

I look at Eve, who’s staring at me with big, frightened eyes.

“Armen,” Malik says, still watching me. “Motivate Zachary.”

A dark streak of red mars the otherwise perfect skin of Eve’s neck. He’s cut into her. It’s shallow, but he’s still cutting. She makes a sound, tears spilling down her face now, and before I can think, I’ve got the gun in my hand, I take aim between the soldier’s eyes and pull the trigger.

Except nothing happens.

The soldier stares back at me, dumbfounded, and from the quickly darkening circle on his pants, I know he’s pissed himself.

Malik laughs, gestures for Armen to stop, which he does. I look at Eve, at the line of red at her throat. Shallow. Armen knows how to kill. How to hurt. He was careful not to do the former. But is this a game? Is it planned? Rehearsed, even?

I open the chamber of the gun. It’s empty.

Malik walks toward us, still laughing, although it’s fading now. But when he takes a look at the piss-darkened pants, the smile disappears and this time when a gun is fired, it’s his, and it’s real. Eve screams. No one else makes a sound. The man lies flat on the floor, a bullet between his still-open eyes, blood pooling behind his head.

“Coward,” Malik says, holstering his weapon. He gestures to two soldiers who come to take the body away. “I have a great distaste for cowards.”

I’m watching Eve. Tears still pour down her face and she can’t stop staring at the dead man, at the blood where he lay just moments ago. But she doesn’t know Malik. The moment Malik told me to shoot him, he pronounced his death sentence. It’s why he’s so powerful.

In the next instant, Julia enters the room and shoves at Eve, which forces Armen to release his death grip on her. She strides toward Malik. “Uncle,” she says, kissing his cheek. If she’s noticed the blood on the floor, she isn’t moved.

He smiles at her, studies her for a long minute before kissing her cheek. I wonder to myself if this is a different girl than the one I knew two years ago, because that Julia, she wouldn’t have kissed the cheek of a man who had just murdered a defenseless man. Would she?

“Let’s move to the veranda,” Malik says. A girl walks in with a mop as our group makes its way out. Malik waits to walk beside me. “They’re not all empty,” he whispers to me as if we’re in cahoots. “It makes things interesting.” I realize he’s referring to the guns.

“Let her go, Malik. She has nothing to do with this.”

He shrugs and gestures to a guard when I don’t move. The man joins us. This one has a rifle slung across his shoulder and he’s nudging me forward. I walk out the door and through the outside hall, taking in the view of mountains and sea in the distance, the calm, quiet surroundings. The two monks walking across the otherwise empty courtyard.

“It’s nice here,” he says to me once we reach the veranda. “Peaceful.”

It’s large, with beautiful pillars for support, and set with comfortable furniture. Armen sits Eve on one. Julia sits beside her, taking her hand. I know she’s squeezing it, digging her nails into Eve’s skin from the look on Eve’s face. But Eve’s doesn’t pull away. She’s only watching me.

I take a step toward Eve. Julia releases her hand and I’m not sure if I’ll be stopped along the way, but I’m not. I crouch down before her, take her bound hands in mine. “You okay?” I ask her.

She shakes her head no.

“You will be. I promise.”

“Aww. So tender,” Malik says from behind me. “But you really shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and I rise to face him.

He takes a stroll around the room, giving me a chance to count guards. Two at the door, one at either end. Two more on a sort of watchtower. All have machine guns slung over their shoulders and I have a feeling these are not empty of bullets.

“I knew it the day of the auction. Saw it in your eyes when her brother brought her up on that stage.” Malik smiles wide as if he’s talking of some fond memory. “Such a pretty girl,” he says, looking at Eve’s face. He turns to me. “It saved her life, that look. That love.” The way he says that last word, it’s meant to taunt.

But it doesn’t. It has a different effect.

It makes my heart stop for just a moment.

“That look saved her life,” Malik repeats. His tone is suddenly sharp when he next speaks, calling out Julia’s name. With a gesture, he tells her to move. She does.

“Sit, Zachary.”

“Fuck you, Malik.”

His face hardens. I guess he’s not used to people talking to him that way. “I said sit.”

I step toward him. “I don’t much feel like sitting. Tell me what the hell you want. You could have killed me a hundred times over by now. Clearly, you don’t want me dead. So what is it you do want?”

When he comes to stand closer, I see how empty his eyes look. Soulless. I wonder if it’s how mine look. He stops when we’re inches from each other, but I guess he didn’t take into consideration the fact that I’m taller. And I like the advantage, so I step even nearer.

“You want to know what I want?” he asks.

From my periphery, I see a guard step up. Malik gives a nod and a hand lands on my shoulder, pushing me down. Down until I’m on my knees.

“I want to have a little fun,” he says, nodding. That’s the last thing I see before a sharp pain at my temple makes my vision go black, and Eve’s scream is the last thing I hear when I crash down onto the unforgiving marble, everything fading from consciousness.