Paragon ✓

XIX. Winter Falls

You can cut the flower, but you cannot stop the coming of spring. – Malalai Joya

Holden was watching Kellen explain in a childish version of Pashto how to build bombs. He wasn't paying attention; he was considering methods of 'accidentally' killing Track. It was a personal insult that Track was still alive, still speaking and still staring at Katia. Apparently the cracked rib that night in the locker room wasn't lesson enough, and Holden was deliberating whether or not he might just have to kill Track. There would be a lot of explaining to do though, if he came back without Dean King's son. Holden balled his hands into fists, utterly furious. He was certain that Jackson had set them up with Track King purposefully. Jackson was goading him, setting him up for punishment.

Holden wasn't sure what had come over him the night before. He only knew that when he considered what might have happened to Katia had the bullet lodged two inches to the side and into her chest, everything became black. When he thought about her getting seriously hurt, or even dying, the feeling was a profound, heavy sort of emptiness that consumed him. He bit down on his tongue, trying to get away from the feeling as it overwhelmed him again. Girls, he thought bitterly. This is why they don't put them in combat missions. They're a fucking distraction. That's when the telephone struck him in the temple.

It landed on the ground with a thud. He picked it up, and stared at the phone in shock. It had a single phrase, but he understood. His head jerked up as he heard the voice. She was singing loudly; a garbled, utterly incomprehensible rendering of a common Pashto song, and his first thought was to wonder how she'd picked it up. His second was that she was terribly off-pitch. And his third was that she was, once again, putting herself in danger.

His instinct was to race up the hill to where she was, but years of trained restraint held him back. No, it was more than that. It was because whatever she was doing, he trusted her.

"Get everyone inside!" he ordered Kellen. He didn't bother with Track. "Twenty men incoming, western slope!"

Without another word, he and the twins snapped into action. They ran up the hill, through the narrow alleys between homes and barged into the highest house in the village, past a woman who screamed at them and several young children who stared with wide eyes, up the stairs and onto the balcony. They flung themselves flat on the roof and into position. Only when they were settled, aiming at the crest of the mountain did Frankie whisper:

"How the hell did you know they were coming?"

He laid the mobile flat out beside him, then pointed at the outcropping of rocks that obscured their view of the other side of the mountain. "She threw it at me."

"How in the world did she get it to work?" Colton wondered, the amazement in his voice obvious. He looked out at her. "Shit. She's right in their way."

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious," Holden muttered.

"Why the fuck is she singing?" Frankie whispered.

"Not a single fucking clue," Holden replied. "But she knows."

"She's going to bring them right to her." Frankie replied, aghast.

Suddenly, Holden realized what she was doing. "Katia, don't," he whispered. "Please don't."

"What is it?" Frankie hissed.

He took a ratcheting breath, reminding himself to trust her, that causing a scene would only harm her, but his next words came out pained. "She's baiting them."

There was silence after that, but for the noise of her tuneless, fearless song, and Holden thought he might be on the verge of losing it, when Colton spoke.