I can’t report it—no body, no crime, and my NDA makes me legally liable for revealing anything I hear at work.
I can’t prove it—attorney-client privilege protects him, and Dom erased all the evidence.
But I can document it.
It’s the only thing I have left. The only power in this powerless situation.
I can’t stop him. Can’t save her. Can’t undo what happened.
But I can bear witness.
Because maybe, someday, this will matter.
Maybe someday, someone will be able to use this.
I save the entry. Back it up. Lock it with biometrics.
My phone buzzes.
Alex: Where are you??? I’m at Woody’s and it’s closing. Need rescue.
The relief is physical. My chest unclenches. I can breathe again.
She’s alive. She’s safe. He didn’t find her.
Me: On my way. Stay inside until you see the car.
I need to tell her everything.
I need to make sure she stays away from clubs. Away from downtown. Away from men in fur coats who smile too much and wear their wealth like armor.
Because he is still out there.
And he’s going to hunt again.
Six
“Got something for you.”Alex hands me a dandelion before strapping in, and the Uber takes off.
“Stop.” And just like that I’m more distracted than a squirrel with two piles of nuts. “Where. How?” I twirl it between my fingertips. “It’s January!”
Dandelions don’t grow in January. Not in Philadelphia. Not in freezing temperatures and snow.
But here it is.
Perfect. Golden. Impossible.
Like the one from the playground when we were twelve. When we both wished for a best friend and the universe delivered.
“Right. I found it in this alley.” She leans in conspiratorially while my heart forgets how to beat.
An alley.
No. Please no.
“I met this guy and I let him rail me in the alley.”
I bite down on my cheek. Because I can smell the vodka on her breath. And the sex on her skin.
