Betrayed: Prequel to Unhinged

  Betrayed

  Prequel to Unhinged

  Natasha Knight

  Copyright © 2017 by Natasha Knight

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Also by Natasha Knight

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  About This Book

  I didn’t think I had anything left to lose when I went to him. It was the only way to save what was left of my family. I knew I was taking a chance, knew there would be consequences, but I had no choice. Not if I wanted to save my brother.

  He warned me to be careful. That my brother wasn’t who I thought he was. I didn’t believe him though. Not until it was too late.

  And it cost us both everything.

  Betrayed is the free 7500 word prequel to the intensely emotional dark standalone romance, UNHINGED.

  1

  Eve

  Going to the American soldiers for help is my last resort. If my brother finds out what I’ve done, he’ll kill me. But I don’t have a choice. It’s the only way to save what’s left of my family.

  I walk into the building where they have their headquarters. It’s easier than I expect, actually. All I have to do is tell them my name. Eve El-Amin. The El-Amin family is well known here.

  From conversations I’ve overheard between my brother and his “colleagues,” I know there are less than a dozen soldiers here. I’ve met two now. The guard at the entrance, who was younger than I expected, and another whose title is Commander. I don’t remember his name. Now I’m sitting in the interrogation room where I imagine they’re watching me from behind the mirror hanging on the wall, like they do on American television shows. And all I can do is try to calm my racing heart.

  I glance at the door for the hundredth time. There’s a clock above it and every click of the second hand as it moves has me wanting to leap for that door. To run out of here and go back home and forget this.

  Only fifteen minutes have passed since the commander left the room, but it feels like fifteen hours. The longer I sit here, the harder it is to stay put. I wonder if they’re doing it on purpose, using this tactic to shake me up, make sure I’m telling the truth. I am, but I imagine it’s not easy to trust anyone with El-Amin for a last name.

  I finish the flimsy plastic cup of water the commander had put in front of me, wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and begin to rise. This was a bad idea. They’re not going to help me. Why would they? My brother is the enemy.

  But then I hear it. Talking in the corridor. Two men. Their voices are like thunder—deep and powerful. It’s like they were waiting for me to make a move to leave.

  As soon as I see that doorknob turn, my stomach churns and I freeze, half up out of my chair. All I can do is watch. My mouth is dry, and my heart is pumping blood so hard through my veins, the sound is deafening. But when the door opens, it’s not the commander I see. He’s behind the soldier who’s wearing fatigues and carrying a thick file. The soldier’s eyes zero in on me, take in my awkward position, and when he meets my stare, he does something I don’t expect. He smiles.

  “Ms. El-Amin,” he says, and I know he knows I’m terrified.

  He sets his folder down on the table and I straighten, as if I’d merely been standing to greet him. He extends his hand. I look at it, at this enormous outstretched hand, waiting for me to place mine inside it.

  “I’m Master Sergeant Zachary Amado,” he says while I stand there, stupefied.

  I clear my throat and drag my gaze up to his. His eyes are so dark a blue they’re like the midnight sky. And there’s a kindness inside them. Something that makes me trust him instantly. Makes me like him instantly.

  “Eve,” I say, my voice sounding almost normal. “I’m just Eve.”

  He smiles, and his eyes light up. “Well, we’re glad you came, just Eve. And you can call me Zach.”

  I feel my face go red and I lower my gaze. He’s still got my hand and he squeezes and when I look up, he gives me a wink.

  “Everything will be fine,” he says. “You’re doing the right thing. We can help you.”

  I nod, but I’m not really sure why because I’m still not certain this is the right thing at all.

  “Sit down,” he says, releasing my hand.

  I sit. I get the feeling he’s used to giving orders and having them followed.

  He turns to the commander, the man I met initially. The man who asked me questions for almost an hour. He looks like he’s in his fifties and he’s not as friendly as Master Sergeant Zachary Amado. Zach. They have a brief exchange but they speak too quietly for me to hear. A moment later, the commander says something to Zach, nods to me, and leaves the room so we’re left alone. Zach faces me and gives me that smile again, and I think he’s trying to reassure me.

  “I know you’ve already told the commander why you chose to come to us, but would you mind telling me as well? I want to hear the story from you.”

  “I’m here to save my brother,” I say.

  “Your brother.” He opens the folder before him, shuffles through a few pages before coming to a photo of Armen. He studies it himself for a moment, then looks up at me, and I think he’s looking at the similarity in our features. Our eyes, mostly. Like the sweetest honey, my mom used to say. The memory reminds me how much I miss her.

  I blink twice, hoping to banish the tears I feel gathering.

  “This brother, Eve?” he asks, using my name. He’s watching me. Has been. I know. I felt his eyes on me from the moment I saw Armen’s photograph. He rotates it so it’s right side up. “Armen El- Amin?”

  I look up to meet Zach’s eyes. His search mine and I know he’s seen the tears. I nod, too afraid that if I speak, my voice will break.

  He shifts his gaze back to the folder, and mine follows. He makes a point of flipping over pages and pages of notes, which I can’t read from where I’m sitting. There are a few more photographs in the file. Some of Armen alone. And, more importantly, of Armen with the man he works for. Except that the man’s face is hidden behind a scarf. He’s always hiding. Always sending others to do his dirty work.

  That thought gives me strength. It reminds me why I’m here. Why I have to do this.

  Steeling my spine, I sit up straighter. He watches me.

  “My family’s gone. I’ve lost my parents and two of my brothers, and Armen has got himself mixed up with a very bad man.” I point to the photo. “Malik the Butcher.” My voice hardens; I hear it myself. I have so much anger at this man, so much hatred of him. He’ll destroy Armen if I don’t do this. “I can help you find him. Tell you when they’ll meet. If you’ll help me save my brother.”

  2

  Zach

  When I walked into the interrogation room, I knew the girl was about to bolt. She was terrified, and still is, but she’s not weak. She’s here to save her piece of shit brother, but she doesn’t know him. She can’t. If she did, there’s no way she’d be here now because she’d know there’s no way in hell we’ll “save” him.

  Eve El-Amin, baby sister of the El-Amin family. What’s left of it, at least. Her father was important politically, and his work aligned with our goals. At least to some extent. But he and his wife were blown up leaving a restaurant some time back. Her other brothers, Rafi and Seth, went missi
ng soon after that. Dead would be my guess. That’s when Armen, the eldest brother, went to work for Malik a.k.a. The Butcher.

  Beirut isn’t a hotbed of activity in the Middle East. In fact, it’s probably one of the safest places in the region. But that doesn’t mean men like Malik don’t operate here. Don’t run operations from the safety of their homes. Thing is, we can’t find the bastard. And Eve El-Amin is the best lead we’ve had in a long time.

  “You help us, and we’ll be able to help you,” I say, not looking at her, rifling through the papers before me even though I’ve memorized everything in the file. I’m trying to be as honest as possible. I don’t want to lie to her, but she has information we need and finding Malik is priority one. It’s the reason we’re here, like ghosts, a covert battalion of elite soldiers with one mission: capture and kill Malik the Butcher. We don’t even want him alive.

  When I look up, Eve’s big caramel eyes are watching me and I’m momentarily disarmed. She’s pretty. I’d established that before she’d even walked into headquarters. We have a file on her too. I won’t show her that one, though. And she’s innocent. I see it in her eyes, on her face. If I had any doubts before, I know for sure now, seeing her like this. I feel it in my gut.

  Although my gut’s been wrong before.

  I shake away that thought and watch her, wondering if she’s aware she’s hugging her arms to herself.

  She’s small, maybe five foot four, and petite. When she shook my hand earlier, hers disappeared inside it. She’d stared up at me then, like she is now, and I know she’s searching. She’s here to save her brother, but if he got wind of her visit today, he’d be the one she’d need protecting from. I wonder if she realizes that and suddenly, that’s all I can think of.

  “Does your brother know you’re here?”

  She shakes her head and reaches out to draw a photograph closer to her. “No.”

  “But you live in the same house.”

  “He doesn’t know.”

  “You understand that you can’t tell him, right?”

  “I know.” But the way she says it, she’s wavering. Her shoulders slump and she drops her gaze. This is a betrayal of him, her sitting here with me. We’re his enemy and she knows it.

  I reach over the table and cover her hand with mine. She’s startled by the contact, and fuck me, but so am I. We’re both looking at it, at my hand on hers, and she’s so soft and small and I have to clear my throat to speak.

  “Eve, look at me.”

  She does, and her eyes glisten with tears. She’s desperate to save him. She’s out of options. That’s why she’s come to us.

  “No matter what happens, you can never tell Armen you’ve been here.” I pause, and I can’t drag my eyes from hers. I watch a single tear roll down her cheek. She doesn’t wipe it away but I want to, and it takes all I have not to slide my thumb across her face to do just that. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, understand?”

  She pulls her hand out from under mine. “He wouldn’t hurt me. He’s my brother.”

  I watch her, feel a shift in the air as I think about how to handle this. How to make sure she understands that he isn’t the man she thinks. That he can and will hurt her.

  “Tell me what you know about Malik,” I say, needing time to study her, learn how she thinks. Figure out what makes her tick.

  And, most importantly, remember my team’s mission.

  3

  Eve

  It’s late when I leave the office. I told Zach all I knew, but I don’t have any information on meetings between Armen and Malik. He doesn’t usually tell me anything. I only know where he’s been when he returns after those days and nights because he’s in a mood then. I feel his self-hatred coming off him whenever he comes home, and Zach’s words ring in my ears.

  “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  I don’t want to believe it. Or maybe I just don’t want to admit he’s right. That I don’t know how far Armen would go if he found out. I don’t know if his loyalty to Malik is stronger than blood.

  Zach’s easy to talk to. I think he tried hard to make me feel relaxed, but that’s an impossibility. I can’t relax until I know Armen is safe. He offered to drive me home, but I declined. I like walking in the city and our house is only about a mile outside of it. But I know he’s following me. I can feel it, even though when I look over my shoulder, I can’t see him in the crowd. I like knowing he’s watching. For some reason, I feel safer for it.

  I get to the house and notice Armen’s car is still gone. That’s not unusual so I unlock the door and walk inside. Since mom and dad died, the house feels different, bigger almost. Then when Seth and Rafi disappeared, it got empty. Hollow. Like it too was missing them. Waiting for them to walk in the front door.

  I glance at the street once more before I close the door and lock it. Walking through the large living room, I make a point of not looking up at the frescoed ceiling my mom loved so much, and go into the kitchen. I put on the tea kettle and make myself a sandwich. I need to eat something, even though I don’t feel like it. I’m still too anxious, worked up over what I did. I’ve set things into motion now that I can’t undo. I’ve given information to the Americans, and although they may have already had it, I betrayed my brother. My reasons for doing it don’t matter. I’ve gone against my own blood, even though my intention is to preserve what’s left of it.

  Once the kettle whistles, I make myself a cup of tea and carry it up to my room. It’s the first one at the top of the stairs. I don’t look at all the other closed doors there. All the rooms that stand empty. I go into my own and push the window open to look up at the darkening sky, drink the first sip of scalding hot tea. The phone in my pocket feels heavy. It’s the one Zach gave me. I glance at my closed door once as I sit on the edge of my bed and pull it out. It’s old, I can tell, and it’s used, but whatever information was in it before has been wiped out because now, there’s only one number programmed inside it. His. Just Zach. Not his title, not his last name.

  I’m to call him if I feel unsafe at any time. I know he’s worried Armen will hurt me if he finds out what I’m doing, but he’s wrong. Armen’s my brother. He wouldn’t hurt me.

  Zach asked me about Armen’s office. About any paperwork he leaves lying around. He asked me to take photos of whatever I find, even if it doesn’t make sense to me.

  My stomach feels heavy with the thought of what I’m about to do, but I finish my tea and get to my feet. I take a deep breath and pocket the phone as I head downstairs to Armen’s office. The door isn’t locked. He trusts me to keep out. It takes me a full minute to come to terms with what I’m about to do. I push the door open and switch on the lamp. He keeps the navy curtains closed here. This room never gets any sunlight or fresh air, and it smells like cigarettes. Like stale smoke.

  The first thing I do when I walk around the large desk is dump the ashtray full of butts and ashes in the trashcan. He picked up the habit about four months ago and I can’t stand it.

  He’s taken his laptop with him so I don’t have to go through that. He usually takes it and when he doesn’t, he hides it. Maybe he’s suspected my betrayal all along. Maybe his instincts tell him to keep the computer hidden from me.

  I touch the yellow pad of paper with his chicken scratch on it. I’m not sure how they’ll make anything out of it, but I snap photos. I flip to the next page and do the same. Once I have all the pages photographed, I open a drawer. It’s empty apart from two pens, some sticky notes still wrapped in plastic, and a half-full pack of cigarettes. A lighter is tucked inside.

  I open another one. This one contains loose pieces of paper. Some are torn, some have coffee rings on them. I can’t tell how old they are or how important. I try the next drawer and find the same thing. He must keep everything and it’s all a mess. I close it and open the bottom right one. When I do, I step back, gasping, surprised by what’s inside.

  A shiny, black revolver.

  I know he has one. I�
�ve seen it in its holster beneath the jacket he wears thinking he’s hiding it from me. The realization that he probably owns more than one strikes me then. He never leaves the house unarmed anymore.

  Tentatively, I touch it. It’s cool and hard, and for some reason, I pick it up. Feel its weight. Look at it. And I realize it’s not unused and that thought makes me drop it back down like it’s a brand. I quickly close the drawer, shove it hard when it gets stuck. I want it out of my sight. I want to be out of this room. I don’t want to know what he’s done with that gun. Who he’s hurt.

  I go back up to my room and hide the phone under my pillow before stripping off my clothes and running a hot shower. I feel dirty. I feel…bad. But I haven’t felt good in a long time and if doing this will get my brother back safely, then I have to do it. I have to feel bad for a little longer because for some reason, I trust Zach. I know he’ll help me.

  The following week, I go to the same office, but this time, I use the door at the back of the building in an alley. The soldier who had stood guard at the other door is at this one today, but he’s not alone. There’s another one with him and from the first moment, I don’t like him. It’s the way he looks at me as I pass. The way I feel his eyes on me when the other soldier walks me to the office where I was the first time. Once again I’m seated in that big room with only the table and two chairs. I place the cell phone on the table when the soldier leaves and today, it’s only a few minutes before Zach comes in carrying a laptop.