Everlife Boxing Gym.
Niamh had spent the whole afternoon pounding away at the heavy bag.
She’d trained in kickboxing years ago–picked up some solid boxing skills, too–but it’d been a long time since she’d really given it her all.
The hanging bag swung back hard, rebounding straight into her face and leaving her cheek flaming red.
Niamh slumped down onto the mat, and suddenly the tears wouldn’t stop.
She’d been drugged and assaulted.
And the one who’d done it was Daniel–a bloated, disgusting man whose face now
haunted her.
Niamh’s jaw clenched with hatred, a twisting knot of nausea and pain tightening
inside her,
After stumbling out of the hotel, she hadn’t gone back to work or bothered calling in sick. She’d wandered straight into the first boxing gym she found, desperate to hit something, anything, until she felt empty.
But no matter how hard she fought, the filth clinging to her skin refused to wash
away.
That night, as she left the gym, a friend request popped up from an unfamiliar
account.
She never accepted strangers. But the message attached caught her eye: Want to see what I captured last night?
Last night. The words sent a chill up her spine.
Heart hammering, she accepted the request. Within seconds, a photo arrived.
There she was, sprawled across a hotel bed.
A man’s body was draped over hers.
The angle showed only her face and the man’s back, but it didn’t matter; both of them were clearly, unmistakably naked.
Niamh’s hand started to tremble.
14:18
Chapter 109
Under the streetlights, her face looked bloodless, her lips bitten raw.
Overnight, her world had collapsed.
Being violated by Daniel was hell enough. Now some stranger had snapped a photo and was using it to threaten her.
So this was what despair felt like.
Niamh stared at the image, furious enough to hurl her phone across the street.
But in the end, her arm dropped. Smashing her phone wouldn’t solve a thing.
It was done. She had to keep her head.
She pressed the call button and dialed back–her voice steady, her mind racing.
By the time Niamh made it back to the old house on Trinity Lane, it was nearly midnight.
Someone was waiting outside.
In a tailored suit, the man looked completely out of place against the faded brick and battered doors.
Niamh paused under the streetlight.
The man’s face, sharp and elegant in the shifting glow, left no room for doubt.
Jonathan.
She couldn’t pretend not to see him not when he’d come all this way. If Jonathan was here, he must have something to say.
She walked over, meeting him eye to eye.
“Why didn’t you come to work today? You didn’t call in,” Jonathan said, his voice calm and even.
Niamh stared at him, searching his face for any sign of emotion.
But his features were as cold and unreadable as ever–a marble statue, betraying nothing.
“I skipped out. If you want to fire me, go ahead,” she shot back.
Jonathan didn’t react. Instead, he handed her a photograph.
“Is it because of this?‘
It was identical to the one she’d just received on her phone.
14:18
“He knows about us?” Niamh asked quietly.
Otherwise, why send the photo to Jonathan?
“He probably doesn’t,” Jonathan replied, shaking his head. “If he did, he’d be demanding much more. My guess is, he did some digging–found out about the rumors at work, figured if something.happened to you, it might affect me too. So he sent this, to test my reaction.”
Niamh gave a bitter, humorless laugh.
The bastard behind the camera was a true entrepreneur–selling the same photo to as many buyers as he could, squeezing every drop of profit from her misery.
Jonathan had figured as much himself. The moment he received the photo that evening, he’d guessed Niamh must have gotten it too.
He’d half expected that, by the time they met tonight, she’d be the one to ask him for help.
3/3
