Chapter thirteen #2
Infamous defense lawyer Harrison Waite was hired by Moreno almost twelve months ago in a final attempt to clear his name.
It was found that discrepancies in evidence collected by the police at the murder scene and uncorroborated witness statements were used to convict Moreno.
Waite, who has made a name for himself by finding technicalities to have convictions overturned or cases thrown out of court, once again proved why he is seen as one of the most exciting law professionals in London today.
Stunned by the news, I run to the bathroom before retching empty air into the toilet.
I won’t be eating my microwave dinner now.
My stomach contracts painfully as I collapse onto my knees, leaning my elbows on the toilet bowl and dropping my face into my hands.
The cold tiles calm the furnace of horror sweeping across my skin.
The revelations of how connected my life is now with the one I’ve been running from circle in my mind.
All the old emotions flood back with force.
I’m furious at the thought of Damon being a man nothing like I believed he was.
My instinct is to storm back downstairs and confront him on the street below, assuming he is still there.
But, if the preposterous possibility is true, he is much more dangerous than I ever imagined.
Having felt the sharp end of men like that’s retribution, my head tells me I need to be careful.
As for Harrison, sickness threatens to burn my throat with the feelings of betrayal soaring through me. The man I idolize as a mentor freed the bastard who killed my family. The reality shatters my belief in the only part of my life I was truly happy with, my career.
Nothing makes sense, but everything gels together in one big puzzle with no clear solution.
It feels impossible to comprehend that I could have fallen into a situation so absurd.
If my identity was known, I could ask the questions I want to, but doing so would expose the past I want to keep hidden.
Is everything connected or merely coincidence? I’m not sure which scenario I prefer.
When I return to the living room ten minutes later, I throw myself down on the sofa then reach for the remote control, but it’s not in its usual place.
My eyes scan the room, then I see it sitting on the sideboard.
I never leave it there. Mrs. D must have moved it.
Reluctantly I rise to retrieve it, then press the power button upon retaking my seat.
My widescreen television lights up, the image of a naked woman filling the screen.
She is bent over as a masked man pumps her from behind.
He grabs her hair, pulling her head back roughly.
“You like that, little whore, don’t you,” he says.
“Be a good little sex doll and come for daddy.”
Frantically, I tap random buttons on the remote to change the channel, but it doesn’t budge.
“What the fuck!” I shriek, panicked. I do not watch porn. All my attempts to stop the video fail, and I storm over to pull the plug from the socket. “How the fuck did that get on my TV?” I mutter furiously to myself, completely unsettled by the unexpected scene in my living room.
“I thought it was your home video,” a deep male voice replies from behind me. “Nice place you have here, Kathryn. I do wonder whose fuck on the side you are that you can afford it.”
His voice is both instantly recognizable and petrifying.
The use of my real name freezes me to the square of flooring I stand on.
“Turn around and face me,” he orders. I continue to stare at the wall, unable to move as terror courses through my veins.
“Now. Look me in the eye, snake, and see what that big mouth of yours caused.”
Slowly, I turn one hundred and eighty degrees to face him. Samson Moreno stands opposite with a huge man on either side of him dressed in sharp black suits with white shirts. Each of them wear earpieces that curl down the sides of their neck and beneath their collars.
Moreno is dressed in the same suit I saw him wearing when I spotted him on the street with Damon.
His hair is silver-gray now, similar to the color of his eyes.
The same neat features which watched me screaming for my parents as he killed them now scan me intently.
A burn mark trails from his right ear down the side of his cheek and across his neck.
A nasty smile plays on his lips as he surveys my reaction to him.
“Kathryn Haining,” he says. “You weren’t as difficult to track down as I thought you might be. The police witness protection program certainly needs to tighten up their policies. Identities are easily bought.”
“What do you want?” I stammer.
“Revenge,” he replies calmly. “What else? You’re the reason I’ve spent almost a decade behind bars. It was your testimony that closed the cell door. Do you not think you owe me?”
“Owe you? You murdered my parents!” I scream, as my initial fear turns to fury. This man has taken enough from me—my family, my identity, and my future. He won’t take anything else without losing more of himself.
“Still a feisty little bitch, aren’t you? Though you are far more grown-up now, I see.” He turns to one guard and then the other. “Unfortunately, boys, we won’t be able to enjoy her. Time is of the essence, as much as I would like to fuck the little bitch into submission before her disposal.”
“People will look for me,” I hiss. “They’ll know I am missing.”
“Who said you were going to disappear? I was thinking of a death more self-inflicted. Something easy to explain away as the actions of a heartbroken young woman with no family, who discovers the supposed killer of her parents is back on the streets.”
I take a step back, and he chuckles. “Do you think you’ll be able to outrun us, Kathryn?”
“My name is Emma,” I snarl. “Kathryn died the same day my parents did.”
“Well, Emma, prepare to die. Restrain her.” As the two men walk over, I dive right and sprint to my kitchen, grabbing for a knife from the block on the worktop. Comically, my hand lands on the smallest blade.
“Size tends to matter in these situations,” Moreno calls to me. “That toothpick would barely graze the skin. Come quietly, and I’ll make it painless. Fight, and you’ll feel every last drop of blood seep from your body.”
“You’ll have to catch me first,” I snap, grabbing the knife block from the counter and hurling it at the first giant; it crashes off his chest.
He lunges for me, but I dodge around him.
His fingers graze my elbow. Still wearing my heels, my strides are awkward, but I reach my bedroom door before the second man can reach me.