Sarah Killian Serial Killer For Hire

{Anya}

The gavel struck like a gunshot.

The sound echoed through the courtroom, final and absolute.

The judge's words barely registered. A long-winded declaration of guilt, of justice being served. The jury had decided, the evidence had spoken, and now my fate was sealed.

That was it. Curtains closed. The end of my life - for a crime I did not commit.

Some watched with grim satisfaction, others with feigned indifference, but no one looked at me like I was innocent. No one except him... Alexander Cain sat in the back, a shadow among the crowd.

He had always been a man of silence, and yet at that moment, his presence was deafening. His expression was unreadable, but beneath it, I knew. He was watching, like he was waiting for something.

I wanted to laugh. Maybe I did. The guards at my sides stiffened as if I might lunge across the room and slit the judge's throat with my bare hands. As if I were capable of something so savage. But to them, I already was, and, of course, the sentence was death.  

Death. 

The word should have sent me into a panic. Instead, I felt nothing but cold, creeping contempt.

Then-

The doors burst open.

Gasps rippled through the courtroom as a figure stumbled inside, breathless, wild-eyed.

"I have evidence to prove Ms. Loraine's innocence!"

The judge's gavel slammed again. "Who are you, and how dare you interrupt-"

"Look at this!" The man -older, face slick with sweat - waved a film in the air. "This is everything you need."  

Whispers rose like a murmur of wind, there was an uproar in the court. My sentence had been given, the evidence was undeniable... Yet here we were, just what could this figure have discovered?

My pulse quickened as the prosecutor stood, face dark with irritation. "Your Honor, this is outrageous."

"I tried to submit this before, but it was ignored," the man cut in. "Evidence to turn this case on its head."

The words should have filled me with hope, but they didn't... because I knew better. This was his doing.

I turned, searching for him.

Alex had vanished. 

And suddenly, I wasn't sure how to feel about this ray of hope. After all, not all that glittered was gold. I knew more than anyone that he was a man who never moved without purpose.

They will tell you it began with a gala. A room of opulence and indulgence, surrounded by the wealthy elite... whom I sought to drag down.

That's the story they'll write. The perfect narrative. The scandalous downfall of Anya Loraine, the woman who clawed her way to the top and still wanted more. They'll say I was ruthless, driven by greed, that I plotted against the powerful, that I wanted chaos, that I... Killed.

But that's not where the story starts.

The first time I met Alexander Cain, it wasn't beneath chandeliers or amidst whispers of billion-dollar deals. It was in an alley slicked with blood. I cursed the misfortune of ever crossing paths with him.

I remember the alley - how the cobblestones gleamed wet beneath the dim glow of a streetlamp. My heels echoed as I walked, the umbrella in my hand an unnecessary burden. The forecast had promised rain, but the skies had betrayed me.

Lost in my thoughts, I almost didn't see him.

A figure slumped against the wall.

Blood seeped through his shirt. His head lifted, and our eyes met. Inky black. Cold. Comforting.