Mitchell’s shop looked the same as Abigail remembered from a few weeks earlier. From the first time that she’d even known Mitchell existed—something that both Frieda and Arthur had kept from her for her entire life.
Haatim.
The word hit him like a tornado, popping up in the middle of nowhere. It ripped through his mind, and an intense feeling of confusion hit him when he tried to understand.
“Are you sure about this?” Nervous, Mitchell paced back and forth across the front room of his shop. “I mean, do you feel sure that we should do it this way? She can get kind of … angry.”
As soon as Matt Walker had held up the tracking device for her to see, Abigail knew she was in trouble. She recognized it. The device came from the Church officials that hunted after her.
Matt felt unsure where he needed to head when he burst out of his church and into the back alleyway behind it. The only thing he knew? He needed to get away from the Indian woman who’d come after him.
As soon as Matt Walker stepped inside his quiet little church in the center of Phnom Penh, something felt terribly wrong. The lights remained off, just as he expected, but he could feel the presence of someone else hiding in the room.
Haatim felt considerably more refreshed when he woke up the next morning. This time, he’d dressed and stood ready to go before Savin managed to come up to his room. Instead, he met him downstairs in the lobby.
12 min read
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