Omar grabbed Megan to himself as soon as he heard his name and raised his head. It wasn't his father who had called, it was him, Taheem, the head of the Sheikh's guards. He stood menacingly, one hand on the hilt of the sword that hung on his waist and the other hand by his side in a fist. His gurtha flapped wildly around his head, disturbed by the desert harsh winds. Omar eyed him, his presence was never a good sign, nothing about him was a good sign.

"What is it?" Omar asked, clearly disturbed by his unwelcomed presence.

Taheem had been around for as long as Omar could remember. The man was strict and never smiled, carrying out the Sheikh's orders without questioning and without falter even if it meant to take a life. He was as loyal as he was scary and he was the only one bold enough to look Omar in the eye and give orders like he was about to do now.

"The Sheikh orders..." Taheem began but Omar interrupted him with a hand.

"Tell my father that I won't be returning right away."

"I'm afraid that isn't an option." He whistled and more men came into view fully armed. "We were told to use any means necessary to make sure the two of you are brought back to the tent."

"The two of us? Why?"

"The Sheikh has his own reasons, who am I to say?" Taheem replied.

Omar frowned, holding Megan's head to his chest and cursing at his luck. He hadn't been careful enough and it didn't cross his mind that they could follow him here and they had, he had led them straight here without him knowing and now they had her.

"You followed me?"

"We have to bring you and the American back as per the wishes of the Sheikh."

"And you come to me fully armed?"

"We are trained to always be armed Omar. A guard is always armed and ready."

Omar knew what he said was true but he hated the guts of the man, he had dared to call Megan "the American".

"The American has a name Taheem." But...