by Rina Kent
I gasp, nearly spilling the coffee when I make out what’s at the back of his head.
A red dot.
A sniper rifle’s red dot.
And it’s following him all the way to the elevator until the video ends.
I’m about to have an epic meltdown when another text comes through.
If you don’t do as you’re told, the next footage will show a bullet in his head.
My legs tremble, refusing to hold me upright, and it takes everything in me not to collapse in the middle of the street.
It’s Adrian.
I knew his threats wouldn’t be empty ones and I just got firsthand proof that he already has someone following Knox, and not just anyone. A sniper.
Moisture stings my eyes at the thought that he could’ve died in that instant while I was completely clueless.
It doesn’t matter who I am or who my father is. When push comes to shove, I’m unable to do anything except for playing by the rules.
My focus falls on Aleksander’s car across the street and I hide my phone, then quicken my pace to inside the building, my mind nearly exploding with a thousand thoughts.
If I suspected it before, then I’m sure about it now.
I’m a danger to Knox.
If I don’t stay away from him, he’ll sure as hell get killed.
My heart squeezes, then thumps loudly in a sporadic rhythm. The possibility of something happening to him churns the contents of my stomach until I feel like I’m going to throw up on the sidewalk.
I place a hand on my chest, trying to quench the nausea rising to my throat.
But it only gets worse.
I shouldn’t have slept with him that day.
I shouldn’t have been selfish and wished for something I’m not allowed to have.
What’s more, I should’ve run as fast as I could the day I met him again. Just why the hell did I let it go so far?
Why did I allow him to become such a vital part of my life that I feel physically sick at the thought of parting from him?
“What is it?”
I jolt near the reception area and nearly spill the coffee. I realize I’m grasping the holder in a death-grip and my whole body is tight as I look over my shoulder.
To where I left Aleksander across the street.
I didn’t even notice Knox approaching me. He’s standing in front of me now, wearing a sharp gray suit and holding his leather briefcase.
Lauren and Chris are a few steps behind him. They’re going to a hearing, I recall. Sandra’s. I said I wouldn’t be able to attend today, because I’m sure Adrian or Kirill will be there. Or worse, someone else.
And if I were to see any of them, I’d have a meltdown of epic proportions.
“Jane.” There’s a warning in his tone, a demand for me to answer his question.
On one hand, I’m thankful he respects my choice about my public persona and didn’t call me Anastasia. But on the other hand, I’m starting to hate this name.
The fake one.
The wrong one.
“It’s…nothing.”
He grabs me by the elbow and pushes me to the hall, away from eavesdroppers.
Then he’s towering over me, his height and presence blocking any outside interference and causing my stomach to tighten. I’ve always loved having him so close that I can’t see anyone past him.
When did this position become my favorite?
He observes me for a second, his lethal eyes narrowing for a beat. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“There’s really n—”
“Don’t finish that lie.” His features harden and a muscle works in his jaw. That’s when I know that I won’t like what he’ll say next. “You think I haven’t noticed your jumpy, shifty attitude since I caught you packing and ready to run? I’ve given you enough time to mull it over and I need an answer now.”
My focus shifts sideways when someone passes us by. “This isn’t the time or place. Don’t you have a hearing?”
“I’m not moving from here until you give me something. Is it about the car that’s been following you for the past week?”
I flinch, my back hitting the wall behind me. “W-what?”
“No amount of distraction on your part will scatter my focus from my surroundings, Anastasia. So tell me, is it about that? Are they people from your past?”
“Why are you so sure they were following me? Maybe they were following you.”
“They didn’t when I left the firm, but they just did when you went out to get coffee.”
Shit.
It was wishful thinking to believe he wouldn’t notice.
This is Knox, after all. He’s so attuned to details, it’s disturbing sometimes. But even he didn’t notice Adrian’s sniper. Instead of being in-your-face like Aleksander, Adrian and Kirill more discreet yet highly efficient.
If Adrian chooses to, he can kill him in a heartbeat.
My lips tremble at that and I force them shut because Knox is still looking at me, waiting for an answer.
I swallow, resisting the urge to put a hand on my chest, since he knows it’s a nervous habit. “It’s really nothing. I swear.”
He jams his fist at the wall beside my head and I startle, even though the move isn’t strong or surprising. I think it’s the expression on his face that shoots tendrils of fear to the bottom of my stomach.
Knox isn’t the type to get angry often or without a reason, but his jaw is clenching now and a muscle jumps in the veins of his neck.
His anger is raw, furious yet still calm. And I’m in the middle of it now. Worse, I think I’ll be swept away by it.
“If you repeat the word “nothing” one more time, I swear to fuck…” he trails off, his nostrils flaring.
“Can’t you just leave it alone?”
“No.”
“Knox…”
“Why are you building a wall between us, Anastasia? Hmm?”
“I am?”
“I feel it, and it keeps getting taller with every passing second.”
“Maybe that wall was supposed to be there from the beginning. It’s safer. For both of us.”
“You mean, for you.”
All the anxiety and fear of the unknown rush to the surface, exploding in a myriad of red-hot temper. “Yes, for me! You have no idea who I am or what you’ve gotten yourself into. The day you do, you’ll curse the moment you met me. I’m defective, okay? Do you know what I do to people? I destroy them.”
“You can’t destroy me, beautiful. That was done way before you came along, so how about you tell me what’s haunting you?”
“How do you know something’s haunting me?”
“I saw it that night. In your ocean blue eyes. They were a little bit haunted, a little bit broken. Just like me. Usually, I don’t get close to people who give off vibes that resemble mine, but you were the exception, my little liar. You still are.”
“You shouldn’t have made me an exception.” I sniffle. “I’m bad for you.”
“And I’m bad for you, too. You don’t see me asking you to leave because of that. In fact, I never will since I happen to be fucking selfish. When I covet something, I keep it. I don’t throw it away and I certainly don’t let it slip from my hands. So you’re fucking stuck with me, Anastasia.”
“What if I want to leave?”
“No, you don’t. You’re just running away because that’s what you’re good at, but you’ll quit that fucking habit with me. Do you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m keeping you. Whether you like it or not.”
I see it then. The determination.
The stubborn determination and the raw possessiveness.
And something tells me it’ll just get worse from here on. That he’ll not only demand to know more, but he’ll also keep me. Whether I like it or not, as he said.
If anything, the more I fight, the harder he’ll chain me to him.
Because he’s decided that
he covets me. Wants me.
He won’t allow me to run or escape or search for an alternative solution.
And I can’t stay. Not if I want to keep Adrian and Kirill away from him.
The painful decision thuds against my ribcage with crushing reality, leaving me hollow.
My words are barely audible when I whisper, “I want to break up.”
A muscle works in his jaw and his fist flexes on the wall. I think he’ll move his hand, whether to choke or grab me, I don’t know, but he doesn’t. Instead, it remains there, as stonelike as his presence, as if he’s pining for patience. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“I…want to end this. Whatever this is.”
There’s a manic light in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. “Hmm. I don’t think you were listening, Anastasia, because I just told you that won’t be happening.”
“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m breaking up with you.” My heart bleeds with every word out of my mouth, but I’m so thankful for my calm tone and the false composure in it.
My brain realizes this is the only way to protect him. The only way I’ll keep him out of the sniper’s range.
If he’s out of the picture, Adrian won’t have anything to threaten me with.
This time, Knox’s hand finds my throat, the hold is tight and unyielding, as if he’s driving his words home. “You can break up with me all you want, but you’re still fucking mine.”
31
KNOX
My mood has been shit since yesterday.
Since Anastasia said we were breaking up.
I haven’t seen her—properly, at least—since that encounter in the firm’s hallway. Not only did she leave work after dropping that bomb, but she’s also ignored my calls.
I was a few seconds away from turning into a raging arsehole. Even though, per Dan’s words, I already was one.
He invited me and Sebastian for dinner at one of the few restaurants he approves of. He’s posh like that, a picky eater to a fault, and never eats out unless it’s absolutely necessary.
I might have glared and glowered during that whole dinner until they’d finally had enough and kicked me out for ruining their meal.
When I went to her flat, Anastasia was already sleeping in a curled-up position on the sofa. I wanted to wake her and continue where we left off, but I couldn’t when I saw that delicate frown on her face.
This morning, she got up earlier than me and went to work.
With all the prep I’ve had to do with Sandra, I haven’t been able to go find her. And when I finally got the chance during a small break, she wasn’t in the IT department. Chris mentioned she was out with Gwen.
So I shot her a text.
Me: Meet me after work or I swear to fucking God, this will get real ugly, real fast. You don’t want to get on my nerves any more than you already have, my little liar.
She didn’t answer.
Not that I expected her to.
Which means she’s taking the difficult road. A stupid mistake that she’ll pay for once I’m finished with court today.
That’s where I am right now, in court, barely holding on to my patience, because although I prepped Sandra, she’s on the verge of breaking down again.
Pearce didn’t even bring out the big guns yet, but a simple look at her father and she starts shaking all over.
“If you keep giving that reaction, it’ll only play in his favor,” I whisper to her. “You’re not here to win his case for him, you’re here to make him pay. Are we clear?”
She nods, sniffles, then slowly regains her composure after exchanging looks with Lauren. My associate lawyer is definitely better at the sentimental stuff than I am.
Anastasia is, too, but she chose not to be present today, and it’s fucking with my head more than I’d like to admit. Maybe, like me, Sandra is used to her silent support and gentle touches and fucking natural softness. Maybe like me, she feels like she’s losing her footing and will be stumbling into nowhere.
I internally shake my head to focus on Pearce, who was questioning Matt’s wife, and Sandra’s stepmother, who’s been basically calling her stepdaughter a whore for the past ten minutes.
“Your witness.” Pearce gives me a lopsided smile that makes his face appear maniacal.
He’s so sure he’ll win both the criminal and the civil case, and he has all the right circumstances to fall back on. Not only is the prosecutor in charge of the criminal case not aggressive enough, but the amount of bribing happening in the background is astounding, to say the least.
That fucker Matt, who’s sitting in a relaxed position with a permanent smirk on his face, seems to be waiting for the whole charade to end. And once it does, I’m sure that big-bellied bastard with the slowly balding head will make Sandra’s life a living hell for merely going up against him.
That’s what bastards like him do; when you stand up to them, you either have to kill them or they’ll chop your head off.
The first time I tried to run away with Teal and Mum had found us, we were in for brutal floggings that broke our skin. Then she locked us in a closet for a whole day with no food or access to the bathroom.
She only let us out when a “client” specifically asked for us. She bathed us then, made us look pretty for her fucking pedophiles and told us that if we ran again, she’d kill us and sell our corpses.
After that incident, Teal withdrew further into her shell and barely talked. Me, however? I knew that if we didn’t escape, that bitch would kill us anyway or she’d get us hooked on drugs so we’d never get the chance to leave.
So I planned our next attempt well. I waited until the fucking bitch was half passed out on drugs, then gave her a bottle of water that I’d put sleeping powder in. The same powder she’d put in my drink when she had pedophiles over, because when I turned eight, I started to fight, and the fuckers didn’t like that.
“Did you ever love us?” I asked her when she was half-dazed, close to collapsing.
I’ll never forget the lunatic snarl on her face when she grabbed me by the hair so harshly, she ripped some out. “Are you fucking daft? How can someone love their golden goose?”
She laughed then and I pushed her away so hard, she passed out. It was the first time I’d done it, and it filled me with waves of adrenaline.
So much so that I grabbed Teal’s hand and we left.
Once and for fucking all.
So no, Sandra’s case is not a mere case. It’s her chance to finally break free.
Ignoring Pearce’s obvious attempts to rile me up, I stand, buttoning my jacket. “Mrs. Bell, you said you knew Sandra way before you married Mr. Bell. Is that right?”
Karen Bell, a woman in her forties with a bony body structure and bleached hair, twists her lips, but answers, “Yes.”
“For how long before the marriage?”
“Three years, I think.”
“You married Mr. Bell when Sandra was thirteen years old, so that means you’ve known her since she was ten, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“That means you’ve been around the family for a considerable amount of time.”
“Objection.” Pearce stands. “Counsel isn’t asking a question.”
“I will.”
“Then do so, Mr. Van Doren,” the judge, a middle-aged black man, says.
I focus back on Karen. “Did Ms. Bell ever show signs of abuse at that time?”
Karen twists her lips again. “No.”
“Not even when she asked you to take her to the clinic because she was bleeding before her period came along?”
“Objection! Hearsay.”
I carry on, pushing into Karen’s space until she’s trembling slightly. “Not when she begged you and cried on her knees in front of your office and asked you to help her because she couldn’t walk on her own? Because she had blood on her skirt and down her legs and suffered from a ripped hymen? What did you do then, Mrs. Bell? When a ten-year-old was bleeding because she
was raped by her father, what did you do?”
“Objection, Your Honor. Counsel is reciting unfounded information without evidence.”
“Sustained.” The judge glares at me. “Unless you have evidence to back your claim, I’m going to strike everything you said from the record.”
“I have evidence.” I step back, then take the file Lauren has ready for me and try to ignore the tears in Sandra’s eyes as she locks them with Karen’s. “I would like to submit into evidence, the testimony of Dr. Norman Schmidt, Mrs. Karen Bell’s ex-partner, who’s now residing in Switzerland.”
The judge summons both me and Pearce to the bench and I give him the file while speaking in a low tone, so the jury can’t listen. “This is the medical record Dr. Schmidt created when Mrs. Bell, then Miss Rens, called him to Mr. Bell’s house to look at an unconscious child with bleeding from her vagina. She told him not to report it and that taking the girl to the hospital was not an option. When Dr. Schmidt insisted on taking her with him to the ER, Mrs. Bell kicked him out. I’ve also included a copy of the testimony he gave at the police station, which the police chief reportedly “lost” the same day. A day later, Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents barged into Dr. Schmidt’s office and informed him that he was being deported for accumulated charges of malpractice—which he had no idea existed until ICE gave him a one-way ticket back to Switzerland.”
Pearce makes a face as the judge reads the files. “Mr. Norman Schmidt is a doctor who was deported and had malpractice claims filed against him for raping two women, Your Honor.”
“Dr. Schmidt was never convicted.”
“He can’t be cross-examined since he’s in Switzerland, Your Honor,” Pearce says.
“The certified medical records he sent can still be used in court.” I smile and Pearce’s face instantly darkens.
The judge stares between the two of us, then tells everyone present, “We’ll take a recess to review the newly submitted evidence.”
As the attendees slowly rise to leave, Matt shares a patronizing look with his wife and she immediately lowers her head, her fingers still shaking.
Hmm. Interesting.
Instead of tucking his tail between his legs and crying to his beloved mafia for help, he walks to Sandra, whose eyes widen as her shoulders hunch. “You’re making a grave mistake, you ungrateful little—”