Chapter 12
789 Words
Chapter 12: Shadows Over Tangier
The air in Tangier felt different—dense with spice and sea salt, pulsing with stories that hung in alleyways and lingered on rooftops. Lina stood on the edge of the riad balcony, the dusky gold light brushing her skin, while the call to prayer echoed through the city below.
She tightened her shawl around her shoulders. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, more to herself than to Alexander.
He stood behind her, sunglasses still on even though the sun had dipped. “It’s a city built on secrets,” he said. “Fitting, don’t you think?”
They hadn’t spoken much on the flight. Tension coiled between them—unspoken truths, unprocessed emotions. The line between convenience and connection was blurring.
He handed her a folded note. “From someone who claims to have known Elias Grey.”
Lina read the scrawl: Café Miraj. Midnight. Come alone.
“He knew my father,” she said, her voice distant. “My real father.”
Alexander gave a curt nod. “Or someone wants you to believe that.”
She turned to face him. “You don’t trust anyone, do you?”
“I trust patterns. Motives. Not men who sign their letters with shadows.”
⸻
That night, Lina slipped out with only a scarf and a sense of purpose. Alexander insisted on waiting outside, close but out of sight. It wasn’t the first time Lina walked into uncertainty—but now, it felt personal.
The café was dimly lit, tucked behind an art gallery filled with ink-stained sketches. She ordered tea, hands trembling as she stirred sugar she wouldn’t taste.
A man appeared, older, with weathered skin and sharp green eyes. He sat without asking. “Lina Grey. Or do you go by Evans?”
“Who are you?”
He smiled without warmth. “Once, your father called me Ayaz. We were brothers in a way.”
“In what way?”
“In war. In code. In the lies we built to protect what mattered.”
Lina blinked. “So he really was—”
“A spy?” Ayaz interrupted. “A father. A ghost. Take your pick.”
He pulled a photograph from his coat and slid it across the table. It was black and white, faded—but unmistakable. Her father standing beside a younger man—Alexander’s father.
“You already know how tangled this is,” Ayaz continued. “What you don’t know is that your marriage might’ve just triggered the wrong memory in the wrong place.”
She felt cold. “What do you mean?”
“Some people think you married Alexander to finish what Elias started. Others think he’s using you to draw out the rest of us.”
“But we didn’t—” she paused. It had started as a contract. But now…
Ayaz leaned closer. “The sins of fathers don’t sleep. They wait.”
⸻
She stepped out into the night air. Alexander was already waiting.
“Well?” he asked.
“He knew my father,” she murmured. “They worked together. And… your father did too.”
Alexander went still. “That’s not possible.”
“He had a photo.” She handed it to him.
Alexander stared at the image. His fingers twitched. “My father said he was in finance. Oil. Nothing like this.”
“Maybe that’s the real business they shared—deception.”
He looked up at her then, all cold walls gone. “You think we were forced together by a contract. But now I wonder if we were both being led—set up.”
She stepped closer. “If someone wanted to hurt us, they could’ve done it already.”
“Not hurt us,” Alexander said. “Use us.”
⸻
Back at the riad, Lina couldn’t sleep. She wandered through tiled corridors and gardens full of jasmine and silence. She found Alexander by the pool, shirt unbuttoned, staring at his reflection like it might give answers.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
He nodded.
“If we weren’t bound by a contract… would you still choose me?”
He turned, slow and deliberate. “That’s the first time you’ve asked something that scares me.”
She moved closer, heart thudding. “Why?”
“Because I don’t know how to want something… without turning it into a deal.”
Her hand brushed his. “Then maybe we rewrite the terms.”
He caught her gaze, lips parting to speak—but a sharp knock rattled the front gate.
A courier. A single envelope.
Alexander opened it. A name. A date. Coordinates.
Jonas was here.
- Writer
