Maalik Hajjar

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When Bailey walked in to Colonel Clayworth’s office, a strange man was sitting comfortably behind his desk. He had dark olive skin and black hair. His face was chiseled and handsome, not to mention considerably younger than the man whose office he was utilizing. Bailey felt a little taken aback at this unexpected turn of events. But despite her wariness, she was still determined.

He indicated that she should sit down. She complied. “You’ve certainly managed to make an impression while you’ve been here,” he began slowly.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Maalik Hajjar.”

“You’re a long way from home,” she said bluntly. He smiled slightly.

“So are you.” She took it personally.

“I came here to be trained as a leader, not persecuted because of my differences.” He smiled.

“Bailey, I think we both know your time at this school is up.” Bailey lifted her head in surprise and felt a wave of relief wash over her. But he wasn’t done talking. “Which is why I’ve recruited you for my program.” Her heart sunk, tearing through tissue in its path and leaving an aching hole.

“No, thank you, sir.”

“You haven’t even heard what it is.”

“I want nothing to do with it.” He stared at her evenly.


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