It was past midnight when Lina heard the lock turn.
She froze, wine glass half-raised, her other hand instinctively drifting to the pepper spray in her coat pocket. The apartment lights were off—just how she left them. She had spent the entire evening waiting for Zaid, then convincing herself he wouldn't come.
But someone had come.
The door creaked open.
Silence.
She barely breathed.
Then—movement. A figure stepped inside, dark clothes, careful feet. Professional. Trained.
Lina hurled the glass at him.
It shattered just beside his head as he ducked, rolling swiftly behind the couch. She grabbed a lamp and charged forward—but he was faster. He rose and caught her mid-lunge, gripping her wrist just firm enough to stop her, not hurt her.
"Lina," he said, his voice familiar.
Her breath caught.
It was him. Zaid. Soaked from rain, eyes wild, jaw tight.
"What the hell, Zaid?" she yelled, shoving him back.
"I didn't come to fight."
"You should've thought of that before vanishing on me—and before lying!"
She threw the crumpled photo at his chest.
Zaid caught it midair.
"You were with him," she hissed. "With Karim. He's alive, isn't he?"
He said nothing.
The silence was an answer in itself.
"I trusted you," she whispered, trembling. "I thought… I thought maybe this was real."
"It is," he said softly. "That's why I left."
"Bullshit."
Zaid stepped closer. "If you knew the full story, you'd hate me. Karim isn't the man you remember. He—"
"I don't care!" she snapped. "He's my brother. I've been grieving him for two years, and you let me."
Zaid winced. "I wanted to tell you. But it's dangerous. He's not alone. He's running a rogue group. He thinks he's saving people—but he's justifying a lot of blood."
Lina stared at him like she was seeing a stranger. "You're one of them?"
"I was. Not anymore."
"I don't know what to believe."
Zaid reached into his coat and tossed a USB stick on the table. "Start with that. It's everything I have on him. And on Salim Asfar."
Her stomach dropped. The name echoed from a forgotten briefing, an arms dealer and war profiteer who'd vanished off every intelligence radar.
Zaid continued, "I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to survive."
"And what happens after that?" she asked quietly.
Zaid's answer came like a confession. "We run. Or we die."