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could almost feel his hands on her, smell his breath, hear his heavy breathing as he used her, violated her, hurt her. It left her feeling sick.
    “When the special operator opened the door to your room and began speaking American English, you did not reveal yourself to him and tell him you were a prisoner. Instead, you remained covered with the burka and kept silent. Why is that?”
    Laura had struggled to understand this herself. How could she explain to anyone who hadn’t endured captivity what it was like to lose one’s identity?
    “When I recognized that the language they were speaking was American English, I felt terrified. I didn’t know why I was afraid. But I think now that hearing their words made me aware again that I was a captive. It was like waking up to discover that what you thought was only a bad dream was actually real. It took time for me to understand what was happening and find the words to speak out.”
    “So after months of wanting desperately to escape, you waited till the last possible second to reveal yourself?”
    Marie had warned her the defense might take the position that Laura had actually wanted to stay in the compound and had told Laura not to let it rattle her. It was nothing more than a bid to undermine the jury’s sympathy for her.
    “I didn’t
wait
. It just took time for me to comprehend what was happening.”
    “I see.” The defense attorney shrugged. “Is it possible that you delayed revealing yourself for so long because you took your marriage to the defendant seriously and wanted to remain with—what did you call his other wives?—your ‘sisters’?”
    U.S. Attorney Robert Black stood as if to object, but Laura cut him off.
    “No! Absolutely not. I was never that man’s
wife
! He kidnapped me, raped me, brutalized me. You want to know why I didn’t run straight to the SEALs and beg them to rescue me? I’d been living in terror for so long that I barely knew my own name!”
    The courtroom was silent.
    Throat tight, tears pricking her eyes, Laura fought to rein in her emotion.
    The defense attorney seemed to study her for a moment, what might have been regret in his eyes, then turned to the magistrate. “No further questions, Your Honor.”
    “You may step down, Ms. Nilsson.”
    It was over. Finally, it was over.
    Thank God!
    Laura had just gotten to her feet when Al-Nassar began to shout at her in English.
    “I am in chains, but I shall be free in Paradise, while
you
will always live in fear. You will never be safe, nor will anyone you love. I curse you and call upon the Faithful, all who walk the righteous path, to seek to kill you and all—”
    The magistrate cut him off. “Counsel, silence your client before I hold him in contempt! Bailiff, remove this man from the courtroom!”
    Bailiffs rushed forward, took Al-Nassar, and began to drag him from the room.
    But something inside Laura snapped.
    She shouted Al-Nassar down, her fury incandescent. “You are evil, nothing but a murderer, an animal who abused me and tried to steal my life! The moment I walk from this room, I’ll be free. Before the door to your prison cell has closed behind you, I’ll have forgotten your name.”
    It was only later, after she’d spent ten minutes throwing up in the bathroom, that it struck her.
    Al-Nassar had commanded his followers to hunt her down—and kill her.

CHAPTER
    2
    Cimarron Ranch
    In the mountains west of Denver
    JAVIER SAT BACK on a plush leather sofa, a glass of single malt in his hand, his gaze fixed on an enormous flat-screen TV where news anchor Gary Chapin cut away to a brunette in a gray trench coat who was giving a live update from New York on Al-Nassar’s trial.
    “As he was being led out of the courtroom at the conclusion of the day’s gripping testimony, Al-Nassar repeated threats he’d made earlier in the day, calling out for ‘all who are on the faithful path to seek to kill the infidel Laura Nilsson.’”
    ¡Puñeta!
    Fuck!
    “Why the hell does