Page 52 of On Your Knees

Sobs wrack my body as I struggle to crawl toward my phone. Each movement sends sharp jolts of pain through my bruised and broken form. I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the agony, my head spinning as I attempt to stand. But each effort to rise is met with excruciating pain, and I’m forced to collapse back to the floor, the nausea nearly making me vomit.

“Please… leave me alone,” I murmur through gritted teeth, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own ragged breathing. The pain is so intense it feels like it’s squeezing the very life out of me. Every inch I manage to move feels like a monumental effort, and I nearly pass out again as I try to inch my way across the apartment to the couch where my cell phone lies.

Despair washes over me as I finally collapse in defeat. I can’t do this anymore. The thought of dying here, alone and broken, seems almost merciful compared to the relentless pain and fear I’m experiencing. I feel unworthy of life, my mind a tumult of fear and anguish.

Christopher’s threatening words echo in my mind, sending fresh waves of terror through me. He’s made it clear that he’d kill me if I dare to pursue custody. The stark reality of his threat settles heavily over me, adding to the overwhelming despair that grips me.

Chapter 25

Benedict

“Look at this,” Vin says, sliding a piece of paper toward me with a sense of urgency.

I take the document, trying to keep my gaze fixed on the front of the church to avoid drawing attention. “What is it?” I ask, briefly scanning the paper.

“It’s the financial record for that shell corporation we traced back to Christopher Matthews,” Vin explains. “Check out the date of the last significant transaction.”

I study the paper closely and my eyes widen as I see the date. “It was yesterday.”

“That’s right,” Vin confirms. “The same day he met with Delgado. We’re currently tracing where the funds are headed next, but it’s looking like Christopher might be laundering money for the Delgados.”

“What about the trafficking ring?” I ask, my concern evident in my voice.

“We’re still piecing that together,” Vin replies, handing me another sheet of paper. “But we’ve uncovered something significant about Gregory Saunders.”

I take the new document and scan it, my curiosity piqued. “What’s this?”

“Check out who’s listed as the beneficiary on this insurance policy,” Vin says.

I read the name on the paper, and it’s the shell corporation’s name, not Saunders’ wife. “Not his wife?” I ask, incredulous.

“This policy was taken out a week before Saunders died,” Vin says, his tone grave.

The realization hits me hard. “Christopher Matthews is more deeply involved than we originally thought.”

As the implications of the documents sink in, my mind immediately drifts to Eva. I can’t shake the thought of how devastated she’ll be to learn that her ex-husband is entangled in this mess far deeper than we initially realized. The weight of it all—the danger, the betrayal—will likely crush her.

“I should go and tell Eva,” I whisper urgently to Vin, making sure no one else can overhear. I’m also driven by a personal need to see her. The night we spent together was intense and filled with unresolved emotions. The way I went down on her, the connection we shared…it left a lot unsaid. I want her to understand that my feelings for her extend beyond her involvement in this case. I want her to know that I’m not just using her role to advance our investigation.

My mind is clouded with uncertainty about how she’s processing everything. I don’t even know where she stands emotionally or how she’s handling the pressure. We need to have a conversation, to clear the air and address everything that’s been left unsaid.

I look at Vin, my resolve firming up. “I’m heading out,” I say, needing to make it clear that this isn’t just about the case for me. “I need to check on her, see how she’s doing, and talk things through.”

With a final, reassuring nod to Vin, I turn and head for the door, my thoughts consumed by the urgent need to bridge the gap between us and face whatever truths lie ahead.

I hurriedly make my way to Eva’s apartment, my thoughts racing with concern. As I approach her door, I notice it’s slightly ajar. My heart skips a beat. “Eva?” I call out tentatively, pushing the door open with a trembling hand.

The sight that greets me inside is horrifying. Her apartment, once so full of life, now feels like a crime scene. Eva is sprawled on the floor, her body a mess of blood and bruises. The room is dimly lit, casting eerie shadows over her battered form. The sight of her like this is almost too much to bear.

I rush to her side, my heart pounding in my chest. Dropping to my knees, I gently cradle her in my arms, trying to keep my hands steady. There’s an overwhelming panic coursing through my system. “Eva?” I whisper urgently, my voice cracking with fear. “Oh, please let her be okay. Can you hear me?”

Her eyes flutter weakly, and I let out a shaky breath of relief. She’s still conscious, though barely responsive. Her breaths are shallow, and her body trembles with each intake of air.

I try to stay calm, though every inch of me is screaming with anxiety. My hands are trembling as I check for any signs of further injury. I need to get her help, but I’m desperate to keep her awake and conscious until then. “Hang in there, Eva. Help is on the way,” I murmur, my voice a mix of desperation and determination as I reach for my phone to call for an ambulance.

“She’s pretty banged up. Busted lip. Swollen eyes. She's also got a concussion and a few broken ribs,” Doctor Cartwright says to me, his voice calm but carrying the weight of concern. “But she won’t respond to us when we ask her who was responsible. We’ve done what we can for now. Lucky for you, Father, I don’t know what would have happened had you not rescued her in time.”

I shudder at the thought, my heart heavy with guilt and fear. “Can I see her?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

---