18. Katelyn
T he shuffle of papers blends with the murmured conversations in the lecture hall. I sit near the middle, surrounded by a sea of students, my notebook open in front of me. I try to focus, scribbling notes to prepare for the lecture, but my grip on the pen is too tight, my movements jerky. Every time the door swings open, my heart leaps into my throat.
When a hand lands gently on my shoulder, I yelp, twisting around in my seat.
“Relax,” Corey says, his brow furrowing as he pulls his hand back. “It’s just me.”
I exhale slowly, my pulse pounding in my ears. It’s been six weeks, and I still react like this. I need to get a grip.
“Sorry. I didn’t hear you coming, and...and I’m just so edgy lately.”
Understatement. Every unexpected noise, every shadow, sends me spiraling. I sleep with the lights on. The sound of footsteps on the sidewalk outside makes me flinch. Even now, surrounded by people in this lecture hall, I’m scanning for exits, counting how many steps it would take to get to the door if I had to run.
Corey doesn’t push. He’s good that way, like he knows when I need space to pull myself together. I grip my pen tighter, willing myself to shake it off.
He offers me a soft smile, sliding into the seat beside me. “Given what you’ve been through, it’s perfectly understandable.”
The professor strides to the front of the hall, his voice cutting through the buzz of conversation. “All right, settle down. Today, we’re diving into the mechanisms of genetic recombination and how CRISPR-Cas9 technology is revolutionizing gene editing.”
I try to concentrate. I really do. But the words blur together, abstract concepts that seem to float just out of reach. I scribble half-hearted notes, forcing myself to stay present. This is precisely the reason I came back. I wanted to reclaim my life, to prove to myself (and to Victor) that he didn’t win. But as the professor’s voice drones on, all I can think about is how hard it is to act like nothing happened.
When the lecture ends, I follow Corey to the library. The familiar smell of old books and polished wood wraps around me like a blanket, comforting in its predictability. We find a quiet corner, spreading out our notes to finalize our project.
Corey runs a hand through his hair. “So, the phosphorylation sites? Do we highlight them here or wait until the conclusion?”
I tilt my head as I think about it. “Conclusion. It ties in better with our findings about kinase inhibition.”
He nods, jotting down notes, and for a moment, I feel like myself again. The thrill of discovery, the rush of piecing together a puzzle. It’s why I chose this field. But then my thoughts drift to Alex...like they always do.
I don’t know where he is or what happened to him after that night. I haven’t asked. I’m too scared to. But not knowing is gnawing at me. He gave up everything to make sure I got out, and now...he’s gone.
I shake the thought away, forcing myself to focus on Corey’s questions. We continue finalizing our document, and I call it quits just before five. We pack up and I head straight to the gym. It’s a struggle, but I’m trying to get back into my old routine.
I focus all my negative emotions into my workout, pushing myself to the max. My muscles are sore and weary when I’m done. After a shower, I head back to my parent’s house. I still can’t bring myself to be alone at night because nights are the worst.
Every creak sets me on edge, every tap on the window freaks me out. I’m petrified that one of Victor’s men is going to kick the door down when I least expect it, so my grandparents’ house is out of the question. I feel too vulnerable and unsafe there.
When I open the front door, I’m greeted by the familiar warmth of home. My mom is in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepares dinner. My dad is in the dining room, smiling briefly when he sees me.
My smile fades when I walk in further and spot Detective Collins sitting at the table, the prosecutor, Samuel O’Malley, beside him.
“We were just discussing Victor’s case,” Collins says, motioning for me to sit beside my dad.
Samuel leans forward, his hands clasped tightly. “Your father has provided significant evidence. Financial records, communications, even some details of their operations. But it’s not airtight. It paints a strong picture of Victor’s empire, but without a witness to confirm key details, there’s enough wiggle room for his defense to argue reasonable doubt. We need someone who can testify firsthand about Victor’s orders, his crimes, and how he runs his organization.”
My dad shakes his head, his face hardening with frustration. “I’ve given you everything I have. Every transaction, every meeting I could track. Those files have pictures of dead bodies, people beaten to a pulp...or tortured. How is that not enough?”
The prosecutor exhales, his gaze sympathetic. “It’s compelling evidence, but none of it directly ties back to Victor. The photos don’t show who pulled the trigger or even who gave the orders. And the financial records, while incriminating, don’t explicitly name him. Without a witness to confirm that Victor was behind these actions, his defense can claim those bodies were the result of rogue underlings or outside influences. They’ll argue he’s not responsible.”
“Mr. Akiyama, we know the truth,” Collins offers. “We know Victor’s at the center of all this. But knowing it and proving it in court are two very different things. His lawyers are ruthless. They’ll tear apart any evidence that isn’t ironclad.”
My dad’s hands curl into fists on the table, his knuckles white. “So, what? I put all our lives at risk for nothing? He just gets to walk free because no one’s brave enough to stand up to him?”
“Afraid so.” Samuel’s expression hardens. “If we can’t get someone to testify, that’s exactly what could happen. We’ve already seen how far Victor’s reach goes. His men are too scared to turn on him, and without that testimony, we’re left with circumstantial evidence. It’s not enough to guarantee a conviction.”
A heavy silence settles over the room, and it feels like my lungs are closing in on me. The thought of Victor walking free after everything he’s done makes my stomach churn. I look at my dad, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his failure, and a mixture of anger and helplessness wells up inside me.
I sit there silent, my heart pounding. My mind races with questions I’m too afraid to voice. I want to ask about Alex, if they’ve tried to ask him to testify. But the words stick in my throat. I can’t bring myself to say his name, not when I don’t even know where he is. Not when I know how dangerous it would be for him to take that stand.
“What if I testified?” I blurt.
All three of them turn to look at me, my dad’s face paling instantly. “Katelyn, no.”
“I mean it,” I insist, sitting up straighter. “I can tell them what Victor did to me. The kidnapping. The threats. Everything. Wouldn’t that help?”
Samuel exchanges a look with Collins before speaking. “It would, but only to a point. Your testimony would be crucial in convicting Victor of your abduction, but it doesn’t connect him to his larger operation. We need someone on the inside who knows how he runs things, how orders are given, and who can corroborate the evidence provided. Without that, we still wouldn’t have enough to take down the entire organization.”
“But if it helps at all...” My voice falters as I glance at my dad. “If it keeps him locked away longer—”
“It’s not enough,” Collins interrupts gently. “Your bravery is commendable, Miss Akiyama, but Victor’s network is vast. To dismantle it, we need to hit him where it hurts most. That means someone who can speak to the financials, the murders, the trafficking. We need someone who was part of it.”
I sink back into my chair, crossing my arms to contain my frustration. I want to help. I want to do something. But once again, I feel powerless.
Samuel clears his throat, his tone shifting to something more formal, almost clinical. “Without a witness testimony, we’ll have to rely solely on the evidence we’ve gathered so far. The problem is, while it’s strong, it’s not conclusive enough to secure a conviction on the major charges—racketeering, trafficking, murder. At best, we might get him on lesser charges like possession of illegal firearms or financial crimes, but even then, his lawyers will push for a plea deal. He could be out in a few years.”
My stomach drops. “A few years? After everything he’s done?”
Samuel sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not ideal, but it’s the reality. He has the resources to drag this out for years, wearing down the system until he walks free.”
Collins takes the news with a bit more optimism. “Look, we’re not giving up, Mr. Akiyama. We’re still working every angle, but we’ve got a clock ticking here. If we don’t move soon, his lawyers will argue for a dismissal on the grounds of insufficient evidence.”
A cold chill washes over me. The idea of Victor walking free, of him coming after my family again, is too much to bear. I glance at my dad, his face hard with anger and fear. I glance at Collins, his weariness clear in the slump of his shoulders. And then at the prosecutor, whose calm demeanor can’t mask the desperation in his voice. They all feel as hopeless as I do.
When they leave, my dad and I walk to the kitchen. My parents turn to me, their expressions heavy with concern.
“You okay, sweetheart?” my mom asks.
“I’m fine, mom.”
It’s a reflexive answer, one I don’t entirely believe myself. But the way they look at me, like I’m still fragile, like I might break at any moment, makes it hard to admit the truth. Especially when they’ve already done so much for me.
My dad took time off work after I came back home. He said it was to make sure I felt safe, but I think he needed the time just as much as I did. He’s been my rock, offering strength and comfort whenever I needed it, whether that meant sitting in silence beside me when words felt too heavy or wrapping me in his arms when the nightmares got too real.
My mom’s support has been quieter, but no less important. She’s the one who sat through therapy sessions with me, holding my hand as I stumbled through the hardest conversations of my life. She was the one who met with my professors to map out a plan to help me catch up on my coursework. Her calm reassurance guided me whenever I felt overwhelmed.
Their love has been unwavering, a safety net. And now, with them standing here, their eyes filled with worry, I feel a flicker of guilt. Because no matter how much they’ve given to me, I know I’m not entirely okay. Not yet.
They assure me I’ll heal in due time. And they’re right. Eventually, I will get over what happened. I’ll stop jolting at every sound. I’ll stop thinking someone’s always out to get me. But what I’ll never get over is Alex. I won’t get over the guilt. He helped me through the worst ordeal of my life, and I can’t do anything to repay him.
Then it strikes me.
Maybe I can do something.
When my grandfather gave me that compass, he said it wasn’t for direction because the onus was on me to know the difference between right and wrong. He told me that the right path isn’t always the easy path, and I needed to be strong enough to make the hard choices. Breaking the pact I made with Alex to stay quiet is a hard choice but a necessary one.
“I need to go out for a while.” I tell my parents and reach for my car keys. “Don’t ask questions. Just trust me. I’ll be back soon.”
They stare at me, then each other, wondering where this came from so suddenly, but they do as I ask. They don’t say one word as I pluck a kiss on each of their cheeks before heading out the door.
It’s time to take control. Alex gave me my freedom. Now, it’s my turn to fight for his.
MY NERVES ARE SHOT by the time I reach the station, my fingers fidgeting with the strap of my bag. I exhale slowly. “I need to see Detective Collins.”
The officer at the desk raises an eyebrow. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but it’s urgent.”
He sighs, picks up the phone, and makes a quick call. A few moments later, another officer arrives to escort me to Collins’ office. My heart pounds with each step, my resolve hardening with every breath.
When I step inside, Collins glances up from the cluttered paperwork on his desk, his expression shifting from curiosity to surprise. “Miss Akiyama, what can I do for you?”
I close the door behind me and take a seat across from him, forcing myself to meet his sharp gaze. “I need to know if you arrested a man named Aleksandras Kazlauskas.”
His brows furrow slightly, but he nods. “We did. Why?”
I swallow hard, deciding to try my first tactic. “If I didn’t press charges...for the kidnapping, would you release him?”
His frown deepens, and he leans back in his chair, studying me. “No.”
The single word drops like a stone in my stomach. “Why not? If I’m the victim, doesn’t that give me a say?”
“Not in this case. Kidnapping is a federal crime. It’s not just about you. It’s about the laws he broke. The state and federal government can and will prosecute him regardless of whether you press charges. And even if we ignore the kidnapping, Kazlauskas has priors. Big ones. There’s no walking away from this without consequences.”
My throat tightens, but I try to keep my composure. “Why would you care about someone like Alex? Isn’t putting Victor away your main priority?”
“It is. But letting Kazlauskas walk free isn’t on the table. He was part of Victor’s operation for years, and there’s more than enough in those files to tie him to multiple crimes. If anything, the kidnapping just adds another nail to the coffin.”
“What?” The word bursts out of me. “I didn’t know they would implicate him, too.”
It’s the tinge of desperation in my voice that makes his eyes narrow at me. “Why would you want to drop the charges? Why are you so hellbent on him getting out of here scot-free?”
The question lingers in the air, sharp and probing. My mind races for an answer, and I glance down at my hands to avoid his scrutiny. “I just think...maybe there’s more to him than what you see on paper. He’s not like Victor.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he replies with a dismissive shrug. “The law doesn’t care about intentions. It cares about actions. And Kazlauskas’ actions have consequences.”
I bite back the urge to defend Alex further, knowing it would only raise more suspicion. My first tactic failed, so I move to the next question. “Have you spoken to him about...turning on Victor?”
“We’ve tried. Trust me, we’ve tried. Kazlauskas is sealed tighter than Fort Knox. Hell, the Pentagon’s probably jealous. We tried five years ago, back when we first picked him up. We’re trying now. Same result. He won’t give us a damn thing.”
“I think I can get him to change his mind.”
His skeptism shows plainly on his face. “We’ve sent our best negotiators in. No one can crack him. What makes you think you can?”
“Because he helped me escape. He risked everything for me, and I know he cares—” I stop myself, not wanting to reveal too much about our relationship. “I think he has a soft spot for me, or he wouldn’t have done what he did. I’m sure I can convince him.”
He lets out an irritable breath. “And why are you just now telling me this? Why not come forward earlier?”
“Because he told me not to. He wanted me to act like we didn’t work together to keep us both safe. Double-crossing Victor is a death sentence, and if he thinks Alex and I collaborated, it’ll put both of us in danger.”
He nods. “So, what exactly are you proposing?”
“I want to see him. I need to talk to him in person, but only under a few conditions.”
His eyebrows shoot up like he can’t believe my audacity. “Conditions?”
“Yes.” I hold his gaze, refusing to waver. “If I convince Alex to testify, you let him walk free. No charges. No prison time. And he gets protection. Whatever it takes to keep him safe.”
“We were only going to offer him a reduced sentence. Maybe a couple of years. What you’re asking for is—”
“Non-negotiable,” I cut in, keeping my tone firm and uncompromising. “If you want him to talk, this is the only way. Victor is dangerous. You know that. I know that. And Alex is putting his life on the line by testifying. He deserves more than just a reduced sentence.”
He studies me for a long moment, his jaw working as he weighs his options. “You’re asking for a lot, Miss Akiyama.”
“I’m offering you the key to locking Victor away for good,” I counter. “You said it yourself. Without Alex, your case falls apart, and Victor walks. Can you live with that?”
His lips press into a thin line, but eventually, he lets out a heavy sigh. “I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll talk to the DA. They’re desperate to get Victor locked away. If Alex is willing to testify, I’m sure they’ll consider granting him full immunity.”
“He’ll testify. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Alright.” He’s still skeptical, but already starts pulling out paperwork. “I’ll arrange for you to see him, but you can’t go in as yourself. If Victor finds out you were involved, it’ll blow everything up. I’ll set you up under the name of the investigator working on the prosecution team. You’ll have one hour in a secluded room with no cameras or witnesses.”
“Thank you.” I nod, swallowing hard as the gravity of the situation settles on my shoulders.
He must sense my trepidation because he leans back in his chair, looking concerned. “You understand this could be dangerous for you, right? Victor’s reach doesn’t stop just because he’s behind bars. If word gets out that you’re involved, he could—”
“I know the risks.”
“Yeah, but if you’re going to do this, I have to make sure you’re protected. I’ll arrange twenty-four-hour security for you and your family until the trial is over. No one will get close to you.”
“I don’t think that’s neces—”
“It is.”
This is getting scarier by the second, but I won’t lose my nerve. “Okay. I appreciate that.”
His eyes search mine, as if trying to gauge whether I truly understand what I’m undertaking and all the ramifications that come with it. “This isn’t just about getting Alex to flip. It’s about making sure you and your family stay alive long enough to see Victor go down. Don’t take this lightly.”
“I don’t,” I assure him. “But I’m not going to sit back and do nothing. Alex helped me when he didn’t have to. Now it’s my turn to help him.”
“Okay.” He nods. “I’ll get it set up. But, Katelyn, be careful. You’re walking into a lion’s den.”
“I know.”