Hemademebreakmy promise. I don’t think it will be okay; it’s getting worse.
My ribs hurt.
But at least the monster didn’t get her.
13
Kara - Present
Owennursesaglassof whiskey next to me, most likely a left-over bottle from a certain Luca Knight’s short stay. I towel dry my hair and drop it on the sofa before picking up the bottle.
“Have you turned on the news?” I ask, grabbing a glass from the cupboard, pouring myself one.
“No.”
“And where’s your phone?”
“Gone, like you told me.” I nod and take a sip, the liquid warming my throat. I leave Owen at the small breakfast bar and sit on the teal sofa in the open plan living room.
Reaching over to the coffee table, grabbing the TV remote as I tuck my legs underneath myself and turn on the news.
BREAKING NEWSis flashing on the bottom of the screen, the red banner displaying key bits of information as the main coverage plays with a reporter standing as close as the police cordon will allow.
The backdrop shows the aftermath.
There are fewer emergency vehicles, and the victims of the attack have since been moved on, but it’s a hive of activity. Allilluminated by the blue and red flashing lights of the emergency services.
“Yes, thank you, Dan. At this time, we can confirm that an explosion went off at around 9:30 p.m. at the annual charity gala dinner of the Foster Families Foundation. Eyewitnesses suggest that there was a further incident inside the hall that involved a few of the dinner guests. At least ten people are dead, twenty-five are in a serious condition, and many others have been taken to hospitals around London for treatment of injuries. At this point, the police are not ruling out terrorists, the area has been locked down as they secure the scene and help those that are left.”
“Peter, are you able to shed any light on this further incident?”
“At the moment, no. What we can tell you is that this is an annual event that is held to raise money for the charity that has Owen Cooper as the Executive Charity Commissioner, and that tonight Mr Cooper made a rousing, passionate speech, announcing the creation of a new political, Independent Party. Some are saying and questioning whether this was just a poor coincidence, or whether there is foul play at work.”
Owen snorts from behind me, and I lean forward and take another sip.
“We are expecting the Chief Investigatory Officer on the scene to make a statement soon, and we will continue to report updates.”
“Thank you, Peter. As always, if any of our viewers have been effected by tonight’s attack, please do contact the number on screen. The police are asking for assistance in trying to piece together what happened, and we will continue to bring you updates as the story evolves.”
I pop the TV on mute and let the pictures continue to flicker on the screen. Some mobile phone footage will begin to make the rounds, and I need to do damage control.
Standing up, I walk across the room, opening the drawer to the media unit and pull out a manila envelope. I rip open the top and drop the contents into my hand.
Powering on the phone, I sit back down. I catch Owen’s stare from where he has turned around on the stool, making me feel like a bloody animal in a zoo. My skin prickles, and I’m hyperaware of the intensity of his gaze.
“Are you always a man of so little words?” I ask as I wait for the phone to power up.
He stands up and walks towards me, the grey tracksuit bottoms accenting his long, lean legs.
“What are you doing?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink, briefly turning his attention to the TV screen.
“I need to make some calls. There could be footage of what happened, and I need it to not exist.”
“And you can do that?”
“Yes.” I type in a code and dial a number, holding the phone to my ear.
“Are you alright?” the deep voice of Andrews answers.
