“Aurora Harper. How may I help you?”

“Stephan Wayne. I’m Maxim Griffin’s solicitor.”

I retrieve my hand from his at supersonic speed, as if I’ve been hit by lightning. My breathing catches; it takes everything in me not to collapse or run and hide.

“How…how did you find me?”

“It wasn’t an easy thing to do, but blood speaks, Ms Griffin.”

“My name is Aurora Harper.”

“Why, yes.” His expression remains unchanged as he motions at the sofa. “Aren’t you going to offer me a seat?”

“Get out of my office. Now.”

“That’s very unfortunate, Ms Harper. I was hoping to get you on the witness stand for Mr Griffin’s parole hearing.”

This time, I stumble backwards. I nearly fall on the sofa but manage to hold myself up at the last minute. My legs shake so prominently, I can’t contain my stance or my emotions.

My worst nightmare rushes to the forefront of my mind, as if it’s been lurking right beneath the surface all along.

Vacant Eyes.

Blood.

Duct tape.

The look of absolute desolation.

No. Not again. No.

“He’s not eligible for parole.” My voice is barely audible.

“The judge changed his mind for exemplary behaviour.”

This can’t be true.

This is a nightmare.

My heart beats loud and fast. I’m that girl running in the forest, my breathing constricted, my lungs suffocating, my head about to snap from the pain.

He’s coming.

He’s there.

They are also there.

“Ms Harper.”

My head snaps up to meet the solicitor’s gaze.

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind? If you tell the judge you were young and confused —”

“I wasn’t young and confused. I saw a monster for who he is and acted on it. Now, leave my office and never return again.” My throat hurts from the force of my words. “You should be ashamed for defending a man like him. Those women could’ve been your daughter, your wife, your sister.”

Stephan’s expression doesn’t change as he reaches into his jacket and retrieves an envelope and a business card. When I don’t take them, he places them on the table. “Call me if you change your mind.”

As soon as he leaves, I drop onto the sofa, my hands and legs trembling, sweat running down my back and temples.

My heart aches and I feel like I’m about to combust.

I pull my knees to my chest as memories start trickling back in. The attacks. The slurs.

The assault.

No. Please no.

The envelope stares at me. I know who it’s from. I contemplate burning it, throwing it away, but the need to solve the puzzle strikes me again.

And this time, I can’t ignore it.

I open it with unsteady fingers. Plain white paper with his messy handwriting taunts me.

Remember Muse,

Next time we see each other, either I kill you or you kill me.

20

Aurora

I leave work early.

But I don’t go to Jonathan’s house.

In fact, for a second, I contemplate driving my car to someplace else.

I could go to Wales. Or Scotland.

If that’s still too close, I can go to another country. Pick a place on the map and fly over there.

I can start anew. If I’ve already had one rebirth, I can have another, right?

Only, I can’t leave H&H and Layla and everyone else behind.

I can’t abandon the dream I started with my own hands. I can’t keep running for the rest of my life.

When I walked out of the court hearing that day, I promised he’d never be the master of my life again.

He won’t control my every breath as if he has a right to. As if he owns my life just because he gave it to me.

Every time someone looks at me, I breathe wrong. I watch my surroundings as if expecting the eggs, the slurs, the assault.

“The devil’s spawn.”

“Her father’s daughter.”

“Murderer! Murderer! MURDERER!”

I hit the brakes and place both hands on my ears as if that will stop the voices from screaming louder in my head.

My breathing is non-existent. My heartbeat escalates like a heavy weight is perched on my chest.

No.

No one will find me. They can’t.

Just because the solicitor did, doesn’t mean my past will come rushing back in.

It takes me several minutes to compose myself and drive to my flat. All the way there, I watch the rear-view mirror and over my shoulder, imagining a hand coming out of nowhere.

By the time I reach the reception area, I’m a hot mess of screwed up nerves. My head is crowded with the screams and the cries of the victims’ families, and the way they asked me why.

I didn’t even know myself. How could I answer them?

“Ms Harper.” Paul in reception intercepts me, lowering the volume of the TV.

I come to a halt and plaster on a smile. “Hey, Paul. How are you?”

“Good. Have you moved out?”

“Yes, temporarily. I’m keeping the lease, though.”

“I…see.” He tips his lips up, but I don’t miss the pause. “There’s a new package for you.”

My heartbeat skyrockets with something a lot different than the reason behind the solicitor’s visit.

Alicia’s voice message.

“Where is it?”

Paul retrieves a small box from under the counter like the other time.

I take it with a slight smile. “I’ll drop by to check my mail, but can you call me whenever I get any others?”

“Definitely, Miss.”

“Thank you so much, Paul.” I motion at the empty sofa in an awkward attempt to make conversation. “No Shelby today?”

“He’s not feeling well.” His cockney accent is thicker than usual as he slides his gaze back to the Premier League football game on TV.

I thank him again and count the minutes until I’m in my flat. As soon as I’m inside, I shrug off my jacket, kick my shoes away, and run to my TV. I plug the flash drive in and press Play.

Like the other time, there’s silence at the beginning before Alicia’s voice trickles in.

“I lied to you, Claire, and I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, but I thought I was protecting you. I thought the only way to protect you was to keep you in the dark. Maybe that wasn’t my brightest decision, but I want you to know how much it pains me to have one hair on your head hurt. I hope you forgive me for what I’m about to confess.”

Her voice goes dead.

I skip ahead, but just like the other time, the recording is over.

Damn it.

It’s like whoever sent this is playing a distasteful joke on me.

I slump in front of my TV, the screen blank, and pull my knees to my chest.

What could she have meant about keeping me in the dark? Was it about the devil we both knew? Though Alicia hardly met him. She usually came to me at school, not at home.

Or is this about something else?

I honestly don’t know anymore. I’m too emotionally drained and exhausted to gather any logical thought.

My limbs shake as I recall the solicitor’s visit. Parole. He said fucking parole.