King Solomon's Wives: Hunted

Chapter 8: A Bargain

Sumarra

I had no supplies, no change of clothes, and no money. Everything I needed was in our apartment, including Mina’s diary and what little cash we’d saved. Dilara would surely send someone there. I had to arrive first and leave quickly.

When it seemed no one was looking, I sneaked in quietly. Enough light filtered in from the street that I didn’t need to turn on the lights inside; it didn’t look like Hunters had been there. I ran to my room, found my backpack, and threw clothes in it. There was enough money in the safe for food and transportation. If I couldn’t get in touch with Berhanu soon, I would have to leave Athens to find him. I would follow his location on the news and send a message with a compelling enough reason for him to meet me.

I caught sight of my jewelry box on the dresser and remembered it contained a piece of paper that needed to be written over. I opened it, unfolded the paper, marked out Alton’s name, and wrote another. I wasn’t sure if my mothers would be proud of what I’d done, but they would approve of my choice for a father.

I kissed the paper and crammed it back into the box. This ritual proved I still believed in a few of the old things. I still wanted my mothers’ blessings.

The apartment felt so familiar and safe, I stumbled over to the bed and sat, just for a moment. Tears fell, though I had no time for a breakdown. The consequences of my actions hadn’t fully settled in my mind. Maybe they wouldn’t for weeks. Months. Lives. I’d left the clan. If Mina and Bahar helped me now, Dilara would punish them.

I was truly alone.

A knock sounded. I froze. Then another knock sounded, and someone opened the front door. Lights came on in the living room.

Fitting into the closet would make too much noise, and there wasn’t room under the bed. My bedroom wasn’t near an exit, either. I glanced to the window; the street was fifteen feet down. Jumping would hurt, but if a Hunter had found me, a little ankle pain would be the least of my worries. I moved to the window and slid it open. Slowly, quietly. It squeaked once, and a voice made me turn.

“Wait,” a woman said, a silhouette in the doorway. A woman, not a Hunter. She carried too much age to be a Wife. The skin of her face stretched tight over her bones. I squared my shoulders and pulled out Pasha’s knife.

She turned the light on, and I recognized her soft features and the sad downturn of her mouth. She wore a dark suit similar to the one I’d seen her in the last time: in Berhanu’s car, outside the Art Complex on the University campus.

She stepped forward cautiously. “Relax.” Her voice was soothing and kind, even motherly.

“What are you doing in my apartment?”

She held up her hands. “I wanted to talk. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Again, what are you—”

“Looking for my son.” She pulled a picture from her pocket and showed me a boy about Mina’s age. He was tall with wavy blond hair, a strong chin, and high cheekbones, and a little acne tainted his face. “His name’s Jonah. I’ve been trying to find him for two years, and his trail led me to Athens and, earlier today, to a phone call from this apartment.”

Jonah. Was the name a coincidence? It would have to be a big one. This was him, the Hunter. And his mother.

I squeezed the knife hilt as I handed back the picture. The woman must have sensed my nervousness. “Are you afraid of something?”

Yes. But how could I explain it? “Who did he call from here?”

“His father.”

Jonah was a Hunter, so his father was a Hunter, too...and most likely the connection between Jonah and the bigger operation required to launch an international attack on my sisters. Here, in my room, stood a connection to Berhanu and to valuable information about who had probably raided and destroyed my clan. I couldn’t believe my luck.