Trespasses Louise Kennedy Novels & Stories

At six years of conquest and thirty years of positioning and the specific feeling of watching the youngest of us be chosen over all of us and then choosing someone else over us again. “Leon made his choice,” I said. “He can live with the consequences of it.” I went through the gap. The third passage was unfamiliar. But it wasn’t complicated — it ran in one direction and the direction it ran was toward the lower chamber by a route that bypassed the main passage entirely. Kennedy had been thorough. Of course Kennedy had been thorough. We moved through it fast. Fifty meters in I heard voices. I slowed. Rogers behind me slowed too — I felt the change in his footsteps, the specific compression of

Don’t mention it. The voice on the callbox was panicked. “Wait – what’s happening? Why did – ” I didn’t hear the rest since Leo rolled on through and onto the property. We drove across the massive, tree-lined driveway to the side of the house, where I jumped out the back of the limo. Bert tried to reason with me. “Connor, you should wait here. Technically, this is trespassing.” “I was just in prison for murder, Bert. A little trespassing doesn’t really bother me.”

Austin's POV I sit in stunned silence, my eyes fixed on the screen as I watch the footage again. The grainy video shows Louise walking towards the pool door, her eyes fixed on something in the distance. Then, a figure emerges from the shadows, their movements swift and deliberate. They approach the pool door, their hand reaching out to unlock it. My heart races as I realize this must be the person who allowed Louise to escape.

And hands it over to me. “If your eight hours end before I get my hands on the flash drive, the first thing you’ll wake up to will be news of both Hatty and Emmette’s arrest for the alleged attempted murder of Charlton.” I open the phone to see the number was there just like he had said. “Now get up and go back to Emmette before he notices,” Kennedy said, reaching out to help me up. I hesitated at first, but eventually took his hand as he pulled me to my feet. He handed me a napkin. I hesitated again before taking it, then turned my back on Kennedy.

"Then the federal marshals will receive a tip about Leo’s location within five minutes. Without my security, Thatcher’s men will reach him before the police do. The choice is yours, Little St. Claire." I stared at him, the cold realization of his trap settling over me like a shroud. He hadn't just protected Leo; he had engineered this entire crisis to ensure I could never escape. The phone on his desk buzzed. Killian answered it, holding it to his ear for three seconds before his face went entirely stone-cold. "What is it?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Killian lowered the phone, his silver eyes locking onto mine with a lethal focus. "Thatcher didn't go to the police," Killian said. "H