Betrayed part 3

 Dorian stood frozen, watching as Victor Moreno’s figure melted into the shadows. His mind spun, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He felt the chill of fear settle deep in his bones, knowing that Moreno’s words weren’t just a threat—they were a promise.

For the first time in years, Dorian felt truly powerless. His hands shook as he fumbled for his car keys, his heart still hammering in his chest. He quickly unlocked the door and slid into the driver’s seat, locking it behind him. He sat there in the dim light of the parking garage, gripping the steering wheel, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

Moreno was free.

The system—his system—was supposed to be impenetrable. How had Moreno, a man with enough enemies to fill a prison block, managed to slip through the cracks? Dorian had helped put him away, provided the evidence that sealed his fate. And now that same man was walking the streets, untouchable again.

As the adrenaline subsided, Dorian’s thoughts turned to the only solution he could think of: Randolph. He’ll know what to do, Dorian told himself. We can fix this. But deep down, he knew this wasn’t just a matter of fixing things. This was the consequence of a deal he had made—a deal with people more powerful and dangerous than he had ever imagined.

He drove home, his mind still racing. The streets were dark and quiet, but Dorian couldn’t shake the feeling that Moreno’s eyes were on him from every shadow. Every passing car made his pulse quicken, every distant figure looked like a threat.

When he finally pulled into the driveway of his townhouse, Dorian practically leapt out of the car and rushed inside, locking the door behind him. The silence of the house, once a comfort after long days in court, now felt oppressive. He paced the living room, glancing out the window every few seconds.

He couldn’t sit still. He grabbed his phone and dialed Randolph’s number.

“Randolph,” the deputy chief answered after a few rings, his voice gruff and tired. “What’s going on? It’s late.”

“Victor Moreno,” Dorian said, his voice shaking. “He’s out. I just saw him.”

There was a pause on the other end. “That’s impossible,” Randolph said finally, though his tone was less certain than Dorian had hoped. “I have contacts in the prison system. There’s no way he—”

“I’m telling you, I saw him with my own eyes,” Dorian interrupted. “He’s out, Randolph. He found me tonight, outside the courthouse. He threatened me.”

There was another long silence. Dorian could almost hear Randolph’s mind working, calculating the situation. “Alright,” Randolph said slowly. “Stay calm. We’ll handle this. I’ll make some calls and find out how the hell this happened. In the meantime, keep your head down. Don’t do anything rash.”

“Keep my head down?” Dorian snapped. “He knows where I live. He knows everything.”

“Just trust me on this,” Randolph said, his voice firm. “I’ll deal with it. We’ve handled worse.”

Dorian hung up, feeling no better than before. He knew Randolph was a skilled operator, but Moreno was different. He wasn’t just some low-level thug who could be silenced or bought off. He was a kingpin, a man with connections that stretched far beyond the city. If he was out, it wasn’t just a slip—it was intentional.

Dorian poured himself a drink, but the whiskey did little to calm his nerves. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t shake the feeling that Moreno wasn’t done with him. His mind flashed back to that final look in Moreno’s eyes during the trial, the moment he had realized Dorian had betrayed him. That cold, calculating stare had haunted Dorian ever since.

Now, it was worse than ever.

The next few days passed in a blur. Dorian threw himself into his work, presiding over cases with mechanical efficiency, trying to push thoughts of Moreno out of his mind. But even in the courtroom, he couldn’t escape the nagging sense of dread. Every unfamiliar face in the gallery felt like a spy, every unexpected glance from a court officer seemed suspicious.

Randolph, true to his word, had made inquiries. But the answers were unsatisfying, vague. Officially, Moreno was still listed as incarcerated. But the reality of the situation was clear: someone had pulled strings to get him out, and that someone was beyond the reach of the law.

One evening, as Dorian sat in his chambers reviewing case files, a note was slipped under his door. He stared at the folded paper for a moment, his blood running cold. Slowly, he reached down and picked it up, unfolding it with trembling fingers.

It was a single sentence, scrawled in neat handwriting:

“We’ll be seeing you again soon, Judge Hayes.”

Dorian’s hands shook as he crumpled the note, a wave of nausea washing over him. He stood abruptly, pacing the room, his mind racing. It was no longer just a matter of staying out of Moreno’s way. This was a game of cat and mouse, and he was the prey.

Desperation clawed at his mind. He had to do something—had to find a way out of this nightmare. But every option felt like a trap, every move leading him deeper into the web of lies and deals he had spun over the years.

He thought about going to the authorities, confessing everything—his betrayal of Moreno, the deal with Randolph, the dirty hands behind his judgeship. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it wouldn’t save him. The system was too corrupt, too entangled with the very forces that had set Moreno free.

And if he exposed it all, he wouldn’t just lose his judgeship. He’d lose his life.

As Dorian sank into his chair, exhausted and overwhelmed, a new thought emerged from the chaos: Maybe there was only one way to stop this. One final, desperate move to end the threat of Moreno for good.

If the law couldn’t protect him, perhaps something darker could. He had spent his career defending men who played by their own rules—men who understood power and how to wield it without limits.

Now, he was beginning to wonder if he needed to become one of them.

The next morning, Dorian made a call to an old client, a man whose number he had sworn never to use again. The man answered on the second ring, his voice quiet but unmistakably dangerous.

"Dorian Hayes," the man said, a trace of amusement in his tone. "I wondered when you might call."

Dorian swallowed hard. "I need your help."

There was a pause, then a slow, knowing chuckle on the other end. "I thought you might."

And with that, Dorian crossed the line—fully, irreversibly—into a world from which he would never return.