“Is your husband here with you?” Leah asks, frowning, and I see Jake’s face turning white. He probably didn’t consider the possibility of Julian being nearby when he extended his invitation to me.

I shake my head, my throat tightening as the horrible reality of the situation threatens to choke me again. “No,” I say, hoping I sound halfway normal. “He couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, okay.” Leah’s frown deepens, a puzzled look entering her eyes, but Jake regains some of his color. He’s obviously relieved that he won’t be confronted by the ruthless criminal who’s caused him so much grief.

“I really have to run,” I say, and Jake nods, his grip on Leah’s waist tightening to keep her close.

“Good luck,” he says to me, and I can tell he’s glad I’m leaving. He’s been raised to be polite, however, so he adds, “It was good seeing you,” though his eyes say something different.

I give him an understanding smile. “You too,” I say and, waving goodbye to Leah, I head for the mall exit.

I forget about Jake and Leah as soon as I step out into the parking lot. Painfully alert, I scan the area before reluctantly pulling out my phone and calling for a cab. I would hang out at the mall longer, but I don’t want to chance running into my friends again. My next stop will be Michigan Avenue in Chicago, where I can browse some high-end stores while praying that I get taken before I completely lose my mind.

The cold wind bites through my clothes as I stand there waiting, my thigh-length peacoat and thin cashmere sweater offering little protection from the chilly temperature outside. It takes a solid half hour before the cab finally pulls up to the curb. By that time, I’m half-frozen, and my nerves are stretched so tightly I’m ready to scream.

Yanking the door open, I climb into the back of the car. It’s a clean-looking cab, with a thick glass partition separating the front seat from the back and the windows in the back lightly tinted. “The city, please.” My voice is sharper than it needs to be. “The stores on Michigan Avenue.”

“Sure thing, miss,” the driver says softly, and my head snaps up at the hint of accent in his voice. My eyes lock with his in the front mirror, and I freeze as a bolt of pure terror shoots down my spine.

He could’ve been one of a thousand immigrants driving a cab for a living, but he’s not.

He’s Al-Quadar. I can see it in the cold malevolence of his gaze.

They have finally come for me.

It’s what I have been waiting for, but now that the moment is here, I find myself paralyzed by a fear so intense, it chokes me from within. My mind flashes into the past, and the memories are so vivid, it’s almost as if I’m there again. I feel the pain of barely healed stitches in my side, see the dead bodies of the guards at the clinic, hear Beth’s screams… and then I taste vomit at the back of my throat as Majid touches my face with a blood-covered finger.