Page 29 of Kill Feed

I let her guide me to a chair at a long glass table, setting my helmet down beside my seat on the wooden floor.

The bodyguard takes a position near the door, stolid as ever, while Selene leans over with a conspiratorial grin slapped on her sharp-featured face. The glass doors to the meeting room swing open again, and another person steps inside, instantly filling the space with his own authoritative energy.

He looks to be a few years older than Selene, with dull features, salt-and-pepper hair, striding with calm but confidence.

“Ah, right on time,” Selene chirps, extending a hand. “This is Julian, our head of operations.”

I rise from my chair and shake his hand, firmly but politely, before trailing my gaze to the quiet woman who now takes a seat right next to Selene.

“Kamala,” she answers bluntly, sensing my gaze.

I sit back down, ready to get this over with.

“So, tell me… how long have you been doing photography professionally?” Selene begins.

I clear my throat and answer, “About four years now, but I started with Freelance photography when I was sixteen, so six years in total. I’ve worked with small businesses, personal projects, that sort of thing.”

“Goodness, you started young!” Selene beams, her eyes glimmering with that unstoppable aura. “Ever worked for a company like ours before? A big production, live events, that kind of scale?”

I straighten a little in my chair. “Not exactly on this scale,” I admit. “Mostly independent projects, but I’ve covered small events and done shoots for web campaigns.”

Kamala tilts her head, scanning me with a curious, assessing look with her auburn eyes.

“What’s the most challenging shoot you’ve done?” she adds to the conversation, speaking fully for the first time.

I pause, thinking quickly, fingers lightly drumming against my thigh, but eventually stop.

I answer with ease. Question after question flies my way, one more precise than the next. A few casual ones here and there.

Maybe doing a shoot for a Halloween event won’t be so bad.

Selene flips through the last few pages of my portfolio, eyes darting over the images. “Your work is really stunning. I love how cohesive everything is. The structure, it’s beautifully laid out.”

I bite at the inside of my cheek. “Thanks,” I manage, voice even, though my mind flashes to Lucas… the one who actually set it up. Shit, I hope the next question isn’t going to be about why I want to shoot for Phantom Productions. I’ll need to pull his ass in to answer that one.

Kamala leans forward now, one arm neatly resting on the table. “I have to say, I think you’re very brave.”

I frown at that, puzzled at her collection of words. “Brave?”

Julian straightens. “Yes. When I read your bio, I just had to Google you. I mean… wow. Just shocking.”

I lock in place, body and nerves carved into stone.

Selene finally sets the portfolio down. “I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like, having your mother and sister slaughtered right in front of you by your own father. Terrible.”

My veins crystallize into frostbite under my skin as the room starts to tilt, the floor dropping out from beneath my feet. What the fuck is happening right now?

Julian huffs, adding quietly, almost as if he’s afraid to disturb the silence. “I read the news article. The police… they arrived just in time before he could… you know. The authorities shot your father right there and then… to save you.”

His words scrape against me as broken glass dragged over an old wound, resurfacing long-suppressed memories.

Selene exhales with a gentle shake of her head. “That must have been unimaginably traumatic for a twelve-year-old.”

Kamala nods in agreement. “I can’t even begin to understand how traumatic that must’ve been to witness. And survive.” She places her hand on her chest to keep her heart from dropping to the floor.

They speak as if this is casual conversation, a normal fucking discussion among colleagues, and I’m sitting right fucking here. My hands grip the edge of the table so hard my knuckles blanch, vision blurring at the edges. How can they possibly fucking know any of this?

Sure, the media was all over that shit back then, and exactly why I moved cities. But that was so long ago.