Chapter 36

The front door of the Farsi residence creaked open, drawing every eye in the living room toward the entrance. Tariq Mansour trudged in, his clothes clinging to his frame, soaked through from the sudden downpour. His hair was a matted mess, and grease stains from his broken electric bike streaked his forearms. Water pooled around his shoes, darkening the expensive rug. Hala Ghazi leaned back on the sofa, her lips curling into a sharp, amused line. "The person appeared as soon as we talked about...