He’s a danger.
I swallow hard. Once I begin the story, I don’t stop until I have no breath left to tell another soul. “He wore a key around his neck.”
8
GRAVITY
LONDON
The laws which govern our society are not so unlike the ones which govern our universe, except for one critical distinction: our laws can be broken.
When it comes to our justice system, how do we decide who deserves mercy and who doesn’t? How do we choose which rules to uphold when a life hangs in the balance?
Morality shifts with time, it’s fluid, evolving. What we consider a sin today might be a virtue tomorrow. Our moral compass realigns with each generation, rendering past judgments obsolete, absurd even. Centuries from now, our definitions of right and wrong might be as baseless as once believing the world was flat. Yet we dig in our moral heels, resisting change.
Change is terrifying.
An internal countdown ticks within me, marking the days until Grayson’s trial. With less than a month to prepare my findings, a creeping dread has started to coil around my chest with the fear that, despite any of my efforts, I won’t be able to save him.
Some laws can be broken—and some cannot.
And Grayson’s fate feels as unbreakable as gravity itself—a force pulling two objects toward each other by a law neither can defy, destined for an inevitable collision.
No external force is powerful enough to alter his trajectory.
Not even me.
“London?”
Lacy’s concerned voice jars me out of my thoughts, and I look up from my phone.
“Warden Marks is already en route from the facility,” she says, sounding as exhausted as I feel. She lowers the desk phone to the cradle. “I’m sorry.”
I drop my cell into my handbag with a sigh. “You’ll have to tell him in person, then. You can handle him.” I give her a tight, reassuring smile. “Just tell him I had an emergency with a patient that I couldn’t neglect.”
I glance away from Lacy’s doubtful expression. I’m not usually one to avoid an uncomfortable situation, but I know I’ll cave the moment I see him. And despite Sadie’s advice to delve deeper with my patient, I feel continuing Grayson’s sessions is the wrong course.
I can’t go deeper.
I’m already drowning in him.
Until recently, I’ve been able to bury my past without any fear of it slithering into my professional life, and I know Grayson is the catalyst for why that’s suddenly happening. I don’t want to confront my fears; I want them to go back to their dark corner and rot.
I can complete everything I need for trial by reviewing our recorded sessions. I’ll prepare my conclusion, then I’ll move on from this case and patient, locking it all away in the dark corner of my mind where it belongs.
Once I’ve made a decision, I’m firm in my resolve.
“All right, I’ll be back tomorrow,” I tell Lacy, turning to leave. I need to be out of here before they arrive.
“Oh, wait. One more thing.” She holds up a finger. “A Detective Foster has left numerous messages. Do you want to return his call?”
I don’t recognize the name. “No. If he calls again, tell him he can contact me through email with his request.” I receive many solicitations from investigators and law officials, and I simply can’t respond to them all.
“Will do,” Lacy says, her smile bright. “Try to enjoy your day off, London.”
I square my shoulders as I head toward the elevator, my determination building with each sure step. When I press the Down button, relief washes through me—until the silver doors slide open.
And my eyes meet his.
