He’s being a proper ass. Nearly made Haider cry just now.”
Nazeera sighs, closing her eyes as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Haider does this to himself. I don’t understand why he’s deluded himself into thinking Warner is his best friend.”
“That, he might well be,” Stephan says, frowning. “The bar is quite low, as you know.”
Nazeera sighs again.
“If it makes Haider feel any better, Warner’s being equally horrible to just about everyone,” Sam says. She looks at Nouria. “Amir still won’t tell me what Warner said to him, by the way.”
“Amir?” Castle frowns. “The young man who oversees the patrol unit?”
Sam nods. “He quit this morning.”
“No.” Nouria blinks, stunned. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were. I had to give his job to Jenna.”
“This is crazy.” Nouria shakes her head. “It’s only been three days and already we’re falling apart.”
“Three days?” says Stephan. “Three days since we arrived, is that it? That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
“We are not falling apart,” Nazeera says suddenly. Angrily. “We can’t afford to fall apart. Not right now. Not with The Reestablishment about to appear at our doorstep.”
“Wait—what?” Sam frowns. “The Reestablishment has no idea where we—”
“God, this is so depressing,” I groan, running both hands through my hair. “Why are we all at each other’s throats right now? If Juliette were awake, she’d be so pissed at all of us. And she’d be super pissed at Warner for acting like this, for pushing us apart. Doesn’t he realize that?”
“No,” Castle says quietly. “Of course he doesn’t.”
A sharp knock knock—
And we all look up.
Winston and Brendan are peering around the corner at us, Brendan’s closed fist held aloft an inch from the wall. He knocks once more against the plaster.
Nouria exhales loudly. “Can we help you?”
They march over to us, their expressions so different it’s almost—almost—funny. Like light and dark, these two.
“Hello, everyone,” Brendan says, smiling brightly.
Winston yanks the glasses off his face. Glowers. “What the hell is going on? Why are you all having a conference out here on your own? And why did you leave us alone with him?”
“We didn’t,” I try to say.
“We’re not,” Sam and Nazeera say at the same time.
Winston rolls his eyes. Shoves his glasses back on. “I’m getting too fucking old for this.”
“You just need some coffee,” Brendan says, gently patting Winston’s shoulder. “Winston doesn’t sleep very well at night,” he explains to the rest of us.
Winston perks up. Goes instantly pink.
I smile.
I swear, it’s all I do. I just smile, and in a fraction of a second Winston’s locked eyes with me, his death stare screaming, Shut your mouth, Kishimoto, and I don’t even have a chance to be offended before he turns abruptly away, his ears bright red.
An uncomfortable silence descends.
I wonder, for the first time, if it’s really possible that Brendan has no idea how Winston feels about him. He seems oblivious, but who knows. It’s definitely not a secret to the rest of us.
“Well.” Castle takes a sharp breath, claps his hands together. “We were about to go back inside the room to have a proper discussion. So if you gentlemen”—he nods at Winston and Brendan—“wouldn’t mind turning back the way you came? We’re getting a bit cramped in the hall.”
“Right.” Brendan glances quickly behind him. “But, um, do you think we might wait another minute or so? Haider was crying, you see, and I think he’d appreciate the privacy.”
“Oh, for the love of God,” I groan.
“What happened?” Nazeera asks, concern creasing her forehead. “Should I go in there?”
Brendan shrugs, his extremely white face glowing almost neon in this dark corridor. “He said something to Warner in Arabic, I believe. And I don’t know exactly what Warner said back to him, but I’m pretty sure he told Haider to sod off, in one way or another.”
“Asshole,” Winston mutters.
“It’s true, unfortunately.” Brendan frowns.
I shake my head. “All right, okay, I know he’s being a dick, but I think we can cut Warner a little slack, right? He’s devastated. Let’s not forget the hell he went through this morning.”
“Pass.” Winston crosses his arms, anger seeming to lift him out of embarrassment. “Haider is crying. Haider Ibrahim. Son of the supreme commander of Asia. He’s sitting in a hospital chair crying because Warner hurt his feelings. I don’t know how you can defend that.”
“To be fair,” Stephan interjects, “Haider’s always been a bit delicate.”
“Listen, I’m not defending Warner, I’m just—”
“Enough.” Castle’s voice is loud. Sharp. “That is quite enough.” Something tugs gently at my neck, startling me, and I notice Castle’s hands are up in the air. Like he just physically turned our heads to face him. He points back down the hall, toward J’s recovery room. I feel a slight push at my back.
“Back inside. All of you. Now.”
Haider doesn’t seem any different when we step back inside the room. No evidence of tears. He’s standing in a corner, alone, staring into the middle distance. Warner is in exactly the same position we left him in, sitting stiffly beside J.
Staring at her.
Staring at her like he might be able to will her back into consciousness.
Nazeera claps her hands together, hard. “All right,” she says, “no more interruptions. We need to talk about strategy before we do anything else.”
Sam frowns. “Strategy for what? Right now, we need to discuss Emmaline. We need to understand the events of the morning before we can even think about discussing the next steps forward.”
“We are going to talk about Emmaline, and the events of the morning,” Nazeera says. “But in order to discuss the Emmaline situation, we’ll need to talk about the Ella situation, which will necessitate a conversation about a larger, overarching strategy—one that will dovetail neatly with a plan to get the supreme kids back.”
Castle
