“Salama!” he shouts again, hurrying down to me. “Are you all right? Oh my God, please tell me you are.” He crouches beside me, removing the cloth from his mouth, and I fill my eyes with him. His bright green eyes, his beautiful, honest face. “I’m fine,” I whisper. “Are you? Lama? Yusuf?” He nods quickly, his hands hovering beside my head, steeling himself before he takes them back. Still, I can feel their warmth, the blood gushing through his veins. “The attack wasn’t… it wasn’t near where we are, but I had to come here to make sure you’re alive,” he says, and as if the energy has suddenly
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