Page 24 of Sweet Betrayal

Maybe, just maybe, it would’ve proven that he was still sharp. Still useful. That he hadn’t gone soft. That the ghosts from the sandbox hadn’t broken him completely.

Instead, she’d lied.

Looked him dead in the eye and fed him a story. Played him.

“I didn’t trick you.”

The words came so quietly, he almost missed them.

He turned his head slowly, narrowing his eyes. “What did you just say?”

“I said I didn’t trick you. We can still use the information.”

He hesitated. “What the hell are you talking about? You left the letter back at the market. You told me that yourself. Without it, we’ve got nothing.”

She tapped the side of her head, forcing her eyes open. “I didn’t lose anything. It’s still in here.”

He crossed his arms and stared at her. “You’re saying you remember what it said?”

A nod.

Bullshit.

“You’re telling me you memorized a classified, four-page strategic defense memo in the middle of a panicked escape from the palace? Come on, nobody is that good.”

“Not exactly memorized,” she said, her voice unsteady. “It’s more like my brain took a picture.”

He studied her, wondering if she was full of shit. Sitting upright, her chin was raised in defiance, but there was a flicker of nervousness in her throat as she swallowed.

A long beat passed.

“I don’t follow,” he said, eventually.

“I have a gift. Or at least, that’s what my grandfather called it. I’ve always had it, since I was a kid. If I see something once, I can recall it exactly. Word for word. Picture-perfect. It’s how I learned Arabic so quickly, why I never had to study for exams. It’s just... there.”

He’d heard of people like that, but it was rare.

“You expect me to believe that?”

She flinched. “I know I’ve given you reasons not to trust me, but I’m not lying.” Her fingers twisted in her lap. Her bare feet shifted slightly beneath the robe. She was anxious, but not evasive.

Still, he couldn’t afford to go soft. Not again.

“You said you could recite the document,” he said slowly. “But it’s all in Arabic. That’s convenient. I’ve got no way of proving it.”

Her lips twitched. “Then give me something else to read. Something in English. I’ll prove it to you.”

He hesitated. She’d called his bluff, and now his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Wordlessly, he strode down the short hallway and into the bedroom. When he returned, he held a beat-up military thriller in one hand, the kind with a cover that screamed testosterone and covert ops.

He handed it to her. “Read something.”

She flipped the book open to a page in the middle. He watched as she scanned the page with laser focus, her eyes flicking line by line without pausing. She didn’t skim—she absorbed. Her lips didn’t move, but her chest rose and fell steadily as she processed the words.

A moment later, she closed the book and handed it back.

Tom took it, eyeing her the way he’d study an IED that hadn’t exploded. Dangerous. Possibly a trap. But he couldn’t ignore it.

She leaned back in the chair, stared past him at a spot on the wall, and began to recite.

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