Page 74 of Jayson
Yes. We do.
And my fists are already curling into the shape of fury.
“One Friday we were cramming for midterms at my place,” she continues. “We stayed in the library. Around ten, Riley said she should head home. Her mom was strict about curfew, and my driver was off that night, so she decided to walk.”
She closes her eyes, breathing through the memory like it’s smoke. “I offered to go with her. She laughed. Said it was three blocks, hardly a trek across Europe.”
My fingers curl. I know how predators love short distances.
“She left through the back garden,” Keira whispers. “I watched her pick a rose on the way out, tuck it behind her ear.”
Her voice fractures. “That’s the last time I saw her. The last time anyone saw her.”
I wait. There’s more—there’s always more.
“Police came. They questioned everyone. Dad said she probably ran away. That girls her age crave drama. They found the rose later, crushed by the pond.” She presses trembling fingertips to her lips, like she can keep the next words from escaping. “I thought maybe…it was my fault. Maybe I should have walked with her.”
Shame flickers across her face like headlights. I know that look too well. It’s shame and guilt magnified.
“Go on.” I prompt.
She inhales. “That night is a blur. I blocked out so many things, I just couldn’t get a clear timeline of things. But then I started remembering little things. Things about that night. It was like a dream I was slowly remembering.”
“Trauma does that,” I point out.
“So many things about the night she disappeared started to become painfully clear a few months ago.”
Her voice is quiet—too quiet. But the words are a fucking grenade.
A few months ago.
I remember that timing like a scar.
That was when the Bishop headlines hit every major outlet.
Mayor implicated in high-level trafficking ring, codenamed The Aviary.
I saw his face on every screen in the city—pale, smug, still trying to smile through the blood on his hands.
And now… I see hers. Keira. Haunted. Cracked down the center.
It wasn’t just a scandal. It was a trigger. That’s when the puzzle pieces must’ve started snapping into place for her—ugly, jagged pieces soaked in memory and shame.
Her friend didn’t just go missing. She was taken. Sold. And her father… the one man who was supposed to protect her… He was probably the fucking auctioneer.
I feel sick.
All this time, I thought Keira was just collateral. An unfortunate witness to a murder. A pawn in a game she didn’t understand.
But now?
Now I realize she’s been living in a nightmare far longer than I thought.
This isn’t just about what she saw me do.
It’s about what she survived long before I ever touched her world.
And worse—what she’s only just started to remember.
