Friday, September 16, 1:43 p.m. EDT

It didn’t feel like the knife had cut the skin yet, but the constant pressure of the heavy blade on Riley’s Adam’s apple was causing his gag reflex to want to kick in. He did his best to swallow down the physical irritant, knowing that any sudden movements could lead to more permanent damage.

Saifullah stood in front of him, his long robe reaching the tarp below. Help me not to hate this man, Lord. I don’t want to leave this world with hate in my heart.

“Men and women of America,” Saifullah said with a self-righteous blend of smugness and pomposity, “today it is with great solemnity that I visit justice upon a war criminal of the first order. Allah, in his great beneficence and mercy, has granted a second chance to the betrayer of the faith, Khadi Faroughi. My sincerest hope is that she will use this undeserved blessing to mend the error of her ways and follow the righteous path back to the true submission.”

In the midst of the agonizing pain, Riley couldn’t help but smile in his heart. Khadi—safe. That’s all I needed to hear. Thank You, Lord, for rescuing her from this fate. You are so good.

“But where Allah in his wisdom released a minnow, he has used her as bait in order to capture a shark—Riley Covington.”

Alavi pulled hard on Riley’s hair and twisted his face toward the camera. Behind that lens, millions of people were watching him right now in horror, wondering what he would do. How would the great Riley Covington show his unbroken spirit?

Riley willed himself to do something defiant—call out a patriotic slogan, sing like that senator, put up a fight to get away—but all he could do was stare at the camera. Because the truth was that he truly was broken, at least physically. They had beaten away every ounce of strength he had left. The only thing even keeping him semiupright was the mass of hair in Alavi’s hand.

But he still had his heart. They hadn’t broken his will. He stared hard into the camera, praying that the people could still see through his eyes that the terrorists had not won.

“This man you see before you—this man your media calls Captain America, as if he were the epitome of all your nation finds true and virtuous—this man is nothing but a criminal of the worst kind. Beginning with his time in the military while participating in your country’s unjust incursion into Afghanistan, through his career in the sinister black operations—the activities your rogue government doesn’t want you, the citizens, to know about—this man has raped, tortured, and murdered his way through countless innocents. . . .”

Raped? Tortured? Murdered? Lies! Riley said desperately with his eyes. All lies! Don’t believe him! Please, I would never do those things! Don’t let that be your final impression of me! Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the good. . . .

Then something Grandpa had said cut through his growing anguish. “You got to make sure you’re right with God and with the people who love you. Let Him take care of the rest.”

In that moment, all the fear, all the anxiety, all the wondering what was going to happen and how he would be remembered—all of it disappeared. Replacing it was faith—the complete and unquestioning belief that God is on His throne and that Riley was in His hands.

He felt the hardness in his eyes soften. Lord, do with me what you will. Make this about You and not me. Let me decrease and You increase. Let me fade away, so they can see You—Your love, Your forgiveness, Your salvation.

Another jerk of his hair brought Riley back into the here and now. Saifullah was still speaking: “. . . and today justice will be carried out. The Prophet—peace be upon him—has written, ‘If anyone killed a person not in retaliation of murder, or to spread mischief in the land—it would be as if he killed all mankind.’ This man is a murderer of mankind. Today, he receives his retribution.”

Saifullah stepped to the side. The blade lifted from Riley’s neck.

Father, I am Yours.

The first cut was like fire burning so hot that all the other pain in Riley’s body seemed to coalesce itself in that one spot. Then the knife sawed back, taking the agony to a new level.

Please, Lord, let it end quickly! Take me into Your hands!

The blade began its cut back down again—muscle ripped and cartilage tore.

Then the lights went out.