Prologue

The war had taken the lives of many soldiers. The Syrians were once again, losing the war. The men that were killed in the battlefield were crowned as heroes. Those that fled, were regarded as cowards.

Simon Nassif was one of those cowards.

There was nothing else he could do, it was a lost battle. If he had stayed, it would be suicidal. He had a family to take care of, three kids and a pregnant wife. He could not die, not here. Not on this day.

He and several other men were running through the thick forest, desperately looking for a way out. By now the word of their departure would spread. Their superiors would, without a doubt, find out. Going back to the camp would not be wise.

The men there admired strength, courage and pride. He had all that, but he wouldn't give it all up on this.

"There's a way out, I can see it!" a man spoke rapidly. The others, including Simon followed the man.

Big mistake.

The enemies came rushing over to them, aiming their guns and shooting. Simon quickly hid behind a tree, but he had already been shot.

He watched as the men he was with were shot, one by one. The thud of their lifeless bodies hitting the ground would forever haunt him. By then he knew what his destiny would be.

He took a hold of his bleeding leg and closed his eyes.

He waited for the soft breeze that would take his soul away peacefully, and death would take his last breath. He thought of his beautiful wife, imagined his arms around her waist, her hands in hair. He could almost feel her soft lips on his, her painted eyes daring him whenever they were alone in their bedroom. He waited for the excruciating pain of the bullet.

Only it never came.

He opened his eyes. All the men he was with had been exterminated. Like bugs crushed beneath a boot. The enemies were still on their feet, searching the area.

In a split second, he saw a man -a rather wild one- charge towards the enemy with all his might. He shot them all, making sure to shoot them again to prevent surprises. All the while Simon watched, aghast, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't believe his eyes. He watched him kill them with ease, having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he was alive. He was alive.

And that he would stay that way.

He had short spiky hair, and was rather short. He approached Simon with caution, aiming his weapon at him. "Code." he demanded.

"Nine one eight."

He exhaled and lowered his gun, "Good, I didn't want any of this to be in vain. You're wounded, yes?"

"Yes. My leg." he choked out.

"Good heavens. Here, I'll help you bandage it up." the man said, taking out some bandages from his backpack and wrapping it around Simon's wound. Simon winced at the stabbing pain, but the joy of being alive masked it, just a little.

"Thank you," Simon said gratefully, but the man waved his hand nonchalantly. He could nit believe he was alive.

"Anything for a brother."

"What is your name?" Simon asked the man.

"Lucas Hamid."

"How can I ever repay you?" Simon asked.

"No, no it was nothing. Just a favour."

"Please. I will not sleep unless I return your gesture. Please, anything."

He had to repay him. There was no other way. He had saved him from the grip of death. He would see his wife Zara again. He would place a kiss atop his daughter's heads. For that, he was grateful. He would not die today.

Lucas gazed at him thoughtfully. By now Simon knew that the man was thinking of something to ask. He would be eternally grateful to this man. He had saved him from a cruel death. Him, being the last Syrian standing, would be taken to their base and tortured. Just for fun, he supposed. He had heard hundreds of stories like that. The enemy was cruel.

And this man standing before him saved him from it. He imagined the happiness in his wife Zara's face. He was given another chance to be with his family, and there was nothing better than that. He would be eternally grateful to this man.

"Well," Lucas began, "The only thing I want is to have a strong bond between your family and mine."

Simon chuckled, "That is amazing."

"Do you have any daughters?"

Simon hesitated, suspicion lacing his tone. "Yes. Two, and a boy is on the way."

"Good. I have a son, he is five. Maybe he can marry one of your daughters in the future. That way, we will always be connected."

Simon saw no malicious intentions behind the man's request. After all, what harm would there be? Could this man know who he truly was? The Nassif family was one of the most powerful and wealthy families in New York. When he had informed his father that he would join to army to help protect his nation, his father was enraged. We do not bleed for those who are not of our blood, he always said. But he had joined, nonetheless. Zara and the girls were back home. They were safe, protected. When he first stepped foot in Syria, no man knew who he was, or how powerful he was either. This man was no different, he believed. Yes, it was simple, and a good request. Simon shook his hand, "Agreed. One of my daughters will marry your son."

That way, the deal was made.

‡¤‡¤‡¤‡

30 years later...

Kamila rushed past the doctors and nurses, despair etched on her face. When she had received the phone call, she thought she was having a nightmare. Her father had been sick for a long time now. But she hadn't been prepared for this.

She stopped at the front desk, "Please. I'm looking for a patient. A man. His name is Simon Nassif."

"Just a second," the woman behind the desk said, eyeing Kamila strangely. She scanned through her computer. "Room 307. Third floor."

"Thank you," Kamila said, and rushed towards the elevator. She pushed the button several times before the door closed with a ding.

She was nervously fidgeting with her fingers. She had to see him, because deep down she knew this would be the last time she'd see him. The thought alone brought tears to her eyes.

When the elevator doors opened, she rushed out and scanned through the numbers on the door, desperately looking for 307.

304...305...306...

She spotted 307, and ran towards it. She accidentally collided with someone on her way. She briefly glanced up at his face, "Sorry." she mumbled before storming into the room.

Everyone was there, gathered around her father laid on the hospital bed. The view before her crushed her heart. A sob escaped her lips, "Dad..."

He snapped his head in her direction, "Oh, Kamila." he began, "Don't cry. Come here, sugar."

She slowly dragged herself towards him. He looked so...tired. His entire head was covered in delicate white hair, the wrinkles on his face were prominent. He was only 63, but he already looked so old.

"Please, let us be for a while." he said in a low, scratchy voice.

"But papa..." Layla, the eldest, protested.

"Come girls," their stepmother Mandy began, "your father needs to have a conversation with your sister. Let's go."

She ushered them out, but before she left she placed a light kiss on Simon's forehead. A goodbye kiss.

Once they were alone, he said, "I don't have much time, so I'll go straight to the point. Okay, sweetheart?"

She nodded, endless tears pouring down her face.

"A long, long time ago, papa made a promise to a friend." he continued, "He saved me in the war, and therefore he asked a favour in return. You remember that story, right? I told it over the bonfire in our beach house in The Caribbean several times."

She nodded. He always told them the story about how The Wild Man had saved him for a horrible death and had asked a favour in return for his assistance. He never told them what the favour was, despite their pleas and whines. It was always something that sparked her curiosity, but now she deduced that it wouldn't be at all pleasant. Otherwise, why would he have summoned her? Why couldn't he have told her this before?

He coughed, and Kamila felt her heart ache at the vile sound. Her grip on his hand tightened, and she patted the top of it with her own.

"His favour was that..." he inhaled deeply, "He wanted our family to be united, bonded together. At first, didn't think it was such a bad idea. He saved me. I was overwhelmed with joy and I felt the need to repay him. I practically demanded that he asked for something in return. I didn't think it would be such a terrible thing. I was wrong. His favour was that one of you marry his son."

It took her a moment or two to react. Both her sisters were married. Layla was married, has been for the last five years. Her nephew-Patrick-was seven years old. Zuleide was also married for a couple of years now. She wasn't married. She was engaged. Engaged. Everything made sense now. The way her father sometimes looked at her, the way he looked at Carlos. He looked almost sorrowful when their engagement was announced. This was the reason.

"No, papa." she begged, "please no."

A tear slid down his face. "Please, don't make it harder than it already is for me. Please, sugar."

Anger sparked a flame inside her, but she held it in and bit back a sob. It was too late for that now. He continued, "Papa made a big mistake. I didn't think, I just agreed to it not thinking of how it would affect you. Forgive me, Kamila. You don't deserve this. Carlos is a good man, he deserves you. I never once thought that this would affect you in this way. Not once. I was a fool."

"No, papa you weren't." she held his hand.

"I was, but there is no time to remedy it. I did everything I could to prevent this from happening. I realized that I made a mistake, but it was far too late. I kept him a secret, I never introduced him to our family. But I made a promise, and Nassif's never break a promise. I taught you that, right?"

She nodded. She knew that a promise meant everything for the Nassif family. It could not be broken. Not ever. She thought of Carlos then. Of his sparkling green eyes. His beautiful smile. She remembered the way he embraced her when she said yes. It would be forever engraved in her memory. She would never forget that. Ever.

"I hope," he coughed, "that you will find it in your heart to forgive me one day. Please, don't forget that regardless of everything, I love you. You're my heart, my entire universe. Are and always will be." he said.

She wrapped her arms around him, feeling the warmth of his skin and his heart beat against hers for the last time.

"I know you'll do what's right." he said in a shaky breath before closing his eyes. His heart stopped beating, she felt it stop beneath her palm. She gasped, and choked on her breath, "Papa?"

He didn't respond.

"Papa?" she sobbed, knowing that he was already gone. She called for the nurse, her voice loud and desperate. She held his hand for a little while longer and then she gave him one last kiss, and whispered in his ear, "I won't disappoint you."

She then slowly walked towards the door, sending one last glance at him before turning the knob. Her family was outside, and when they saw her they all gasped.

"Is he..." her brother Paul trailed off, and she nodded. They all pushed past her, rushing towards her father's bed. She heard her mother sob. She moved to the wall so she faced his room and then slid down it. Nurses and doctors flooded the room, trying their absolute best to resuscitate him, but deep down she knew it was too late. He was already gone.

She covered her face with both her hands and sobbed, her body quaking as she sobbed uncontrollably. Today, she had lost two of her most precious things: her beloved father and her happiness.