She sat by the hospital bed, staring at Ranya’s sleeping form. The soft beeping of the machines filled the quiet room, the only sound marking the passage of time. Ranya wasn’t in a coma—the bullet hadn’t caused enough damage—but the sedative had knocked him out cold. The doctors had said he needed rest, and that was all he could do for now.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. His chest rose and fell steadily, a reminder that he was still alive, still breathing.

Relief should have filled her, but all she felt was a growing pit of rage. She stared at the message long and hard, her heart full...