Page 35 of Trained In Sin

Seb

"You’re sure it was clean?” I ask Matthew as we sit in my office, the morning light casting long shadows across the desk. "Anonymous tip, concerned citizen reporting suspicious activity. Nothing that traces back to us."

"And the scene?"

"Staged to look like a mugging gone wrong. Wallet missing, phone smashed, signs of a struggle. The knife we retrieved has been wiped clean and planted nearby." He pauses. "The forensics will show he was strangled, but there's nothing to indicate who or why beyond a robbery that escalated."

It's not perfect, but it's believable. Damon Phillips will become another statistic, another victim of London's rising crime rate. His death will be investigated, filed, and eventually forgotten when no suspects emerge.

What won't be forgotten, what can't be allowed to disappear, is the evidence of what he really was.

"The digital evidence?"

"Being handed over to the appropriate authorities through... unofficial channels. The Met's cybercrime unit will receive an anonymous package containing copies of Phillips' hard drives, detailed logs of his online activities, and a comprehensive breakdown of his network connections."

I lean back in my chair, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. "Good. His victims deserve justice, even if they can't know how it was delivered."

"The timing works in our favour. They'll find the evidence, investigate his background, and conclude that someone from his... network decided he'd become a liability. It happens more often than the public realizes."

It's a neat solution. Damon Phillips dies as a victim of random violence, while his true nature gets exposed to the people who can ensure his victims get help and his accomplices get caught.

The authorities will assume his murder was connected to his illegal activities without having any proof of who actually did it.

"Do it."

Matthew steps out to contact his police source, a detective inspector who asks no questions and takes anonymous tips very seriously, especially when they come with substantial evidence of serious crimes.

Alone in my office, I try to focus on the satisfaction of knowing Phillips' victims will get justice. Try to feel pleased that a predator has been permanently removed from the world. Try to convince myself that I did the right thing, even if the execution was... imperfect.

But all I can think about is Saphy's face when she looked at me afterward. The horror, the disgust, the complete rejection of everything I am .

My phone buzzes with an update from Danny: "No movement on any of Ms. Jenkins' accounts. No activity on her phone, credit cards, or social media. She's completely off the grid."

It's been a week since she disappeared. A week of my people scouring London, checking every hotel, every safe house, every possible location where she might have gone to ground. A week of increasingly desperate attempts to find any trace of her.

She's good at hiding. Better than I gave her credit for.

Or she's had help.

The thought makes my jaw clench. Beth Morrison disappeared the same night Saphy did, and her absence feels too convenient to be coincidental. The loyal best friend, spiriting her away from the big bad wolf who dared to protect her from a monster.

If only they knew what that monster was really capable of.

I've had Danny run deep background checks on Beth, looking for any connection that might tell us where they've gone. Family properties, friends with holiday homes, anywhere they might feel safe from my reach.

So far, nothing.

Matthew returns, settling back into his chair with the satisfied expression of a man who's just set necessary wheels in motion.

"It's done. The digital evidence will reach the right people by this afternoon."

"Good." I pour myself a measure of whisky despite the early hour. "Any word from Hartwell? "

"Ms. Jenkins is on extended sick leave. Stress related, according to her supervisor. They're in contact with her, but she's requested complete privacy to focus on her recovery."

The words hit harder than they should. She's alive, she's safe, but she's so traumatised by what she witnessed that she can't even return to work. Can't face the normal routine of her life because of what I exposed her to.

"How long?"

"Indefinite. They're holding her position, but there's no timeline for her return."

At least she's not completely adrift. At least she has income, some semblance of security while she... what? Processes the fact that I killed someone in front of her? Comes to terms with the violence that follows me like a shadow?

Figures out how to live with the knowledge that the man she chose is capable of murder?

"Seb," Matthew says carefully, "perhaps it's time to consider that she may not come back. That what she witnessed was too much for her to overcome."

"She doesn't understand what Phillips was. If she knew…."

"Would it matter?" The question stops me cold. "Would knowing that Phillips was a predator change how she feels about watching you kill him?"

The truth settles like lead in my stomach. No. It wouldn't change anything. Saphy might understand that Phillips deserved to die, might even be grateful that he was stopped. But she'd still know that I'm the kind of man who solves problems with violence. Still know that I enjoyed watching him die.

Still know that when pushed, I don't call the police or trust the system, I take matters into my own hands.

"She chose me once," I say quietly. "Despite knowing what I was, what I was capable of. She chose me."

"Before she saw you kill someone."

"To protect her."

"She doesn't know that. And even if she did..." Matthew trails off, but I hear the unspoken truth.

Even if she knew Phillips was a monster, she'd still know I'm one too. The only difference is that my monstrosity serves her interests instead of threatening them.

But is that really enough? Is being protected by a killer better than being free of killers altogether?

"The digital evidence should reach them within hours," Matthew continues. "Once they start digging into his background, any suspicion about his death being random will evaporate. They'll assume it was connected to his illegal activities."

"And Saphy?"

"What about her?"

"When they investigate his background, when they discover what he really was, it'll be news. It'll be in the papers, online." I lean forward, hope flickering in my chest. "She'll see it. She'll understand. "

Matthew looks sceptical. "Will she? Or will she think you're somehow responsible for the evidence being discovered too? You've demonstrated a remarkable ability to manipulate situations to your advantage."

The thought hadn't occurred to me, but he's right. When news of Phillips' true nature breaks, Saphy might assume I planted the evidence. Might think I'm trying to retroactively justify murder with convenient discoveries.

"She knew him for three years," I say, more to myself than to Matthew. "Lived with him, shared a bed with him. If there were signs of what he really was, she might have seen them and dismissed them. When the truth comes out..."

"She might blame herself for not seeing it sooner."

"Or she might realize I saved her from something worse than a possessive ex-boyfriend."

The hope feels fragile, desperate. But it's all I have right now, the possibility that when Saphy learns what Phillips really was, she'll understand why he had to die. Why I couldn't risk him hurting her or anyone else.

Why some monsters don't deserve trials or rehabilitation or second chances.

They just deserve to stop breathing.

“Matthew, I need to find her.”

"Seb, are you sure this is wise? If she sees you as a threat…. "

"She needs to know I’m not. She's..." I pause, struggling for the right words. "She's mine. And mine don't get to disappear just because they're scared."

"What if we find her, and she calls the police when she sees you?"

"Then I'll deal with that when it happens." I stand. "But I'm not letting her hide forever based on a misunderstanding."

"Is it a misunderstanding? You did kill Phillips in front of her."

"To protect her. From a monster she didn't even know she was living with."

"And you think she'll see it that way?"

I consider the question seriously. Saphy is intelligent, compassionate, capable of understanding complex moral situations. When she learns what Phillips really was, when she processes the fact that she was sharing her bed with someone who collected images of children...

She'll understand. She has to understand.

Because the alternative, that she'll choose to stay afraid of me even knowing the truth, is unacceptable.

I've spent too many years building walls around my heart to let the one person who broke through them disappear into the countryside. I've killed for her once, and I'd do it again without hesitation.

But more than that, I've let myself love her. And that's a far more dangerous precedent than murder.