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A smile slips from my lips, bringing the familiar anger and despair. Pushing the phone aside, I go to my bag and snatch out a blue folder from it along with my laptop.
The last time the Church Killer committed a crime was almost thirteen years ago near this city, and then he disappeared as if he didn’t exist.
The police thought he died since he had a tight schedule for his crimes, but I believe otherwise.
And if I know one thing about serial killers who I’ve studied all these years…they stay close to their crimes and revel in the enjoyment from all their memories, basking in the terror they once inflicted.
His last terror was far greater than in any other city.
He will emerge from hiding sooner or later, and I need to catch him before he does it.
I’ll be damned if I let him destroy one more family.
My phone vibrates again, and I see a message flashing that makes me roll my eyes.
Who knows? Maybe Chicago can be your new beginning. And a place where you can find true love. Just like your namesake.
At moments like this, I regret spilling the beans to her all these years ago about my true name, the one my mom gave me. She loved everything about ancient Greece, from the myths to its history. Her favorite masterpieces were Iliad and Odyssey written by a famous Greek poet Homer.
When the Trojan prince, Paris, fell in love with King Menelaus’s wife, Helen, and stole her, the Greeks declared war on Troy. It lasted ten years, with the Greeks winning and setting Troy on fire. Since Troy had an unbreakable wall, they used trickery. They built the Trojan Horse and presented it as a gift from the gods. Soldiers hid in it, and once the horse was brought inside the city, they all emerged, burned, and conquered it. It’s one of the reasons the horse became the symbol of great deceit for thousands of years.
The war saw many losses, victories, and love stories with brave and power-hungry, vicious men on both sides who would do anything to win.
My mother had a favorite among them, though, leading me back to my name.
My true name caused me a lot of fights since kids loved to tease me about it even though half of them couldn’t pronounce it right.
A name that still brings me trouble whenever someone checks my paperwork, but thankfully, I swapped it with my middle one, so now I’m rarely called this. I’d remove it completely, but doing so would have meant disrespecting my parents.
Andromache.
Mom chose this name for me because Andromache was the wife of the Trojan prince, heir, and a true warrior beloved by people and respected by his enemies for his skills and morality alike.
Hector.
A prince who would do anything for his land, people, and family—even die.
Their true love match lasted years, and her life was a constant heartbreak after his death.
Not a love story that inspires poets, for it wasn’t legendary enough…it was calm, peaceful, and then it ended like every love story in those times. With tragedy, death, and blood.
Mom was superstitious and believed our names defined our destinies. She wanted me to experience a love story that would last a lifetime and bring me the most happiness on this earth. She wished for a Hector to swipe me off my feet and treat me like the princess I was raised to be.
What a funny concept, isn’t it?
Once upon a time, I believed and dreamed about finding my Hector. However, a monster destroyed me in ways my heart became an empty void, bleeding every single day, crying out for justice and revenge.
My name might be Andromache.
But I shall never fall for a Hector.
For he would have to understand me and my quest, have less than stellar morals, and believe in the morally gray despite what our consciousness and society preach to us.
A man who would have to accept me for who I am, the revenge burning my blood, and understand that I won’t rest until all the responsible people face the consequences for their actions.
And such a man doesn’t exist.
CHAPTER FOUR
