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“Can I see him now? Nathaniel, I mean. Is he...?”
“You've done well today,” the lawyer said reassuringly. “Apparently something has been arranged for you.” He gestured toward a new face in the room. New to him, but not to her.
Mick. A beacon of hope in a sea of despair, a friend of Harry's who had risked everything to bring light to their darkness. Her heart ached at the thought of Harry. It hurt to even think his name. Harry was gone. Dead.
As if reading her mind, Mick approached with measured steps and a somber expression. The reality of Harry's death felt like a wound that refused to heal, and the possibility that her ordeal might truly be over was a concept she dared not fullyembrace. Technically she’d done all that was asked of her in court and she was free to go. But go where?
Another mind reading moment as Mick answered her unasked question. His words were meant to be a comfort, "I'm here to help you figure out what's next.”
She knew something else she wasn’t sure how to say—the danger was not past.
All thoughts of her own safety were secondary. Nathaniel was her North Star, her reason for enduring. She would not, could not, let her past cast a shadow on his future. "I've made too many mistakes, but Nathaniel will not pay for them. I don’t know if what I did today was the right thing, or will cost me even more in the end. But I’ve got to keep trying to get things right,” she declared, her voice laced with a mother's fierce determination.
Mick nodded, understanding the depth of her resolve. "What you did was absolutely the right thing. More women are going to speak up knowing that you were the first and were so brave about it. You’ve started something massive. A revolution.”
Mick's hand was firm on Rose's back as he escorted her out of the building, his eyes scanning their surroundings with the vigilance of a sentinel. There was tension in his posture that spoke of readiness, a physical manifestation of the promise he carried—to protect her, to ensure her safety. But his posture also made it obvious that he too understood this wasn’t over yet.
The corridor outside the room where she testified seemed longer than it truly was, each step echoing slightly in the hollow space. She was walking into a future that wasn’t yet planned. When they reached the door that led to the street the daylight seemed harsh, an unforgiving spotlight after the dimness of the indoors.
Once outside, Mick's gaze softened slightly as he looked at Rose. "We're going to see Nathaniel now," he said, the statement more of a vow than a simple plan. The mention of her sonbrought a flicker of light to her eyes, the closest thing to relief she'd felt in what seemed like an eternity. They’d been apart for weeks. He was safe. She knew that, but it was so difficult to not be able to sing him his bedtime songs or wash his sweet face every morning. No matter how dire their circumstances had gotten, she’d found ways to be the soft place where he could fall.
“He must be so confused.”
“I saw him a couple of days ago. He’s very upbeat and getting along great with the other children in the house. Of course he asked about you and can’t wait to see you. But he seemed to be having a wonderful time where he is.”
That made her happy for him and also planted a sour seed of doubt in her stomach. If he was truly happy there without her, maybe she should stay away. Nathaniel didn’t deserve the mess she’d accidently led them into. He deserved better than that. Mick, with his uncanny skills of perception, squashed that thought.
“You’re his mother. Boys want their mothers. Need them. Things will be different now. Better. You have to trust the process.”
“It’s weird there is a process for this stuff. It seems so screwed up and terrible. Yet there is a road map to how it all works. Like it’s normal to suffer this much and claw your way out.”
“I wish it wasn’t, but you’ll have to trust me, we’re experts. So, now that you're safe, have you thought about what you want to do for the rest of your life?" His voice was gentle, probing the edges of a wound that was still healing.
Rose hesitated, her stride faltering for just a moment. "Safe..." she repeated softly, the word feeling foreign on her tongue. She looked up at Mick with doubt. "I'm not convinced we're safe yet," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mick nodded, acknowledging her fears without dismissing them. "I know it's hard to believe, after all you've been through," he admitted. "But I'm here, you have the backing of the Kinross organization, and we won't rest until you and Nathaniel can live without looking over your shoulders."
“Why though?”
He looked perplexed. “Why what?”
“Why do I have the support of the Kinross organization? Why would they send one of their best people to escort me out of court? There are so many people in need, why me?”
“The Kinross family protects the weak.”
“Oh,” she replied, deflating like it was an accusation.
“But they partner with the strong. The people who will testify, tell their story, even at great personal risk. We have your back because you have the backs of all the other women who needed a voice.”
She took a deep breath, letting herself imagine, if only for a moment, a life reclaimed—a future where she could dream and aspire without the constraints of her past. She wished Harry had the same chance.
As they reached the car, Mick held the door open for her, and she paused. She watched how he was still scanning, still waiting for something to happen. Even if he didn’t want to say it out loud, she knew she had to keep her guard up. But at least she’d be back with Nathaniel soon. Even if this wasn’t completely over yet.
CHAPTER 7
Harry’s pulse thrummed in his veins, a potent drumbeat as he approached the sleek, black motorcycle parked in front of the quaint little bookstore. He’d been in the store earlier that day. He was a reader now. Lounging with a book. Lulled by wonderfully tethered together words that made up someone’s story. There had never been time or maybe not the right time to pick up a book and disappear into it. He’d always thought it was such an indulgent use of time. Now as he’d found the time to do it, he realized how wrong he’d been. It wasn’t a waste to sit with a book. It was this weird kind of portal he could step through and turn off all the noise in his head. The little bookstore had been the best place he’d found so far in town and now that asshole was in there, trying to cause problems.
The black motorcycle was a stark invader amidst the tranquility of the town, its presence as ominous as the man it belonged to. Harry's eyes narrowed as he peered through the bookstore window, the unfolding scene inside filled him with rage.
