There is soone here to see you."
Saira Vaughn looked up at the officer who had co to escort her. She smiled faintly. It had to be Spencer. That poor grandchild of Sir Collins—he must have co running to her in tears, desperate for help with the ss he’d stumbled into this ti.
She wasn’t particularly eager to get up and et him. In fact, she felt no urgency at all. The entire reason she had chosen Maniwa for lanie was precisely because of its reputation—remote, unruly, and mostly ignored by the authorities. A place where consequences were vague and justice was optional. That was the point.
Now that she had been caught here, she knew better than to expect a quick escape or a fair outco. The system here was unpredictable, and if it decided to crush you, it rarely needed a reason.
So really, there was no need to rush.
With a soft sigh, Saira finally rose from her chair. There was no use stalling any longer. She followed the officer down the dull corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the concrete walls.
When the door to the eting room opened, she stepped inside—then stopped. Her brows drew together slightly.
It wasn’t Spencer.
A tall man in a plain, dark suit stood waiting. He didn’t rise from the chair until he saw her hesitate. Saira’s eyes narrowed as she studied him, her posture still and guarded.
"You were with lanie, weren’t you?" she asked, her voice cold and flat.
The man gave a small nod, then extended his hand across the table.
"Yes," he said. "I was there to defend her. My na is Attorney Elias Krar."
Saira didn’t take the offered hand. She moved slowly to the chair opposite him and sat down, keeping her eyes fixed on his face.
"What are you here for, then?" she asked. "Did lanie send you?"
Krar shook his head once, smoothly, like he’d anticipated the question. "No. My client sent to lanie, and now he’s sent to you."
"You were not hired by lanie?" Saira asked slowly, wondering who would have dared to help lanie so swiftly. She’d thought it had been bad luck that lanie had been able to get away so quickly. So, she had been wrong then? It seed there was soone else playing behind the scenes as well.
Saira gave a humourless laugh and looked at the attorney again. "Of course. And let guess—this mysterious benefactor wants to help out of the kindness of his heart?"
"I wouldn’t put it that way," Krar said calmly. "But yes, he can help. If you’re willing to et certain terms, there’s room to negotiate. A reduced sentence. Possibly parole under favorable conditions."
Saira leaned back in her chair, arms folded. "I’m not interested in ’favorable conditions,’ Mr. Krar. I want out. Completely. If your client wants sothing from , he can start by offering sothing real."
Krar t her stare without flinching. "Outright release is not on the table. Your current charges alone—fraud, falsifying official docunts, operating under multiple false identities, attempted murder and accessory to murder—are enough to lock you away for life."
She smiled thinly. "Alleged accessory to murder."
"There’s surveillance," he said evenly. "Phone records. Witness testimony."
There’s surveillance," he said evenly. "Phone records. Witness testimony."
She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "All circumstantial. Still, you’re right. The fraud alone would do it. I made too many people look stupid in very public ways. They’ll want to make an example of ."
"Exactly," Krar replied. "And that’s why you need this deal more than you want to admit. Without it, your sentencing hearing will not go well. No judge is going to show leniency to soone they think manipulated the system, sent the detectives into a frenzy and left a body behind."
She studied him in silence for a mont. "So tell sothing useful. What exactly does your client want?"
"We’ll get to that," Krar said. "But before we do, I need to know you’re actually considering this."
She gave a small, humorless laugh. "What makes you think I’d trust any of this? You won’t tell who your client is, what he wants, or why he sent you. I’ve had worse offers in tighter corners, but they at least ca with nas."
Krar didn’t respond right away. He watched her, face unreadable. Then, slowly, he pushed back his chair and stood.
"If that’s your decision, Ms. Vaughn, I’ll walk away."
Saira raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"I’m not here to convince you," he went on. "This offer isn’t a negotiation. It’s an opening—one your record doesn’t deserve, but you’re getting it anyway. Maybe out of respect. Maybe for other reasons. But make no mistake, I won’t be back. If I walk out that door, the next ti you see soone in a suit, it’ll be the prosecutor reading your final charges. And I assure you, they won’t be as polite."
He picked up his briefcase and gave her one last look.
He turned and headed for the door.
Saira remained still, watching his back, her arms still crossed tightly. But the words "lifeti sentence" echoed in her mind with growing weight. Fraud, fake IDs, accessory to murder. The list was too long. They’d build their case and throw the book at her, simply because they could.
When Krar’s hand touched the door handle, she finally spoke.
"Wait."
He paused but didn’t turn around.
She rose from her chair and rubbed her hands, "You want a yes before even telling what he wants in return? That’s not how I work."
"At least tell what your client wants," she said. "Then I’ll decide. If it’s sothing I can do, I’ll agree."
Krar studied her a mont longer and then turned towards her.
"All right," he said. "But once I tell you, there’s no taking it back. You’re in. Understand?"
Saira nodded once. "I understand."
"Good," he said quietly. "Then let tell you exactly what’s being asked of you..."
Reviews
All reviews (0)