Chapter 24 - A Third Party? (2)

Ayra hesitated for a long moment before entering the office building. 

The air felt heavier, the weight of the last few days pressing down on her shoulders. Her nerves acting up while she did her damnedest to calm herself. 

She adjusted her blond wig, tugged her scarf tighter around her neck, and smoothed her borrowed coat. 

Her mother’s letter had led her here, but doubt gnawed at her. Would Mr. Landor even remember her mother? Would he even be willing to help her?

“Hi,” Ayra greeted, keeping her voice carefully polite. “I need to speak with Mr. Landor. It is urgent.”

The young woman behind the desk barely glanced up at her, engrossed as she was in a book as she asked; “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but it’s about a more... personal matter. Please, do tell him it’s from an old friend,” Ayra replied, leaning forward slightly.

The receptionist frowned, but perhaps there was something in Ayra’s tone that convinced her to pick up the phone and phone the man's office. 

After a brief conversation over the phone, she nodded toward the hallway. “Second door on the left, miss. He said he’ll see you.”

...

Minutes later, Ayra walked into the room, her heart thundering. Mr. Landor sat behind a desk cluttered with papers, a balding man in his sixties with sharp, observant eyes.

He gave her a quick glance, his demeanor guarded and slightly hostile.

“And who are you, if you don't mind?” he asked, folding his hands before him and offering her a seat. 

Restless and unable to settle, Ayra choose instead to stand as she didn't feel like sitting. “My name is Ayra. I believe you knew my mother.”

His brows furrowed in apparent confusion and he shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “I’ve had many clients over the years, dear girl. You will need to be more specific, I am afraid.”

“Her name was Marissa,” Ayra provided carefully. “Marissa Russo.”

"Who?" He queried, genuinely confused. "I doubt I knew her."

"What about Marissa Ashford?" Ayra asked, looking at him intently. Ashford was her mother's maiden name. "Does that ring a bell?"

The color drained from his face. He leaned back in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests of his seat tightly.

“Marissa, huh,” he murmured, as if testing the name. “I haven’t heard that name in... years, it seems.”

“It’s urgent, Mr. Landor,” Ayra said. “She left me a letter saying I should come to you if I ever needed help getting out of Scosch. Well, I... I need it now.”

Landor’s eyes darted toward the door. He adjusted his glasses nervously and took a minute to clear his throat. 

“I think you’ve made a mistake, Miss Ashford. I can’t help you.”

Ayra felt a surge of frustration. “You haven’t even heard what I need. At least let me - ”

“Miss,” he interrupted, his voice firm now, “I don’t get involved in... situations like... this anymore. I’m sorry for your trouble, but I think you should leave.”

Ayra hesitated. She needed him to believe her. 

With a trembling hand, she reached up and pulled off her blond wig, letting her dark brown hair spill over her shoulders in waves. 

Then she removed the blue contacts, revealing her natural hazel eyes.

Landor’s jaw tightened and he swallowed tensely, his face going pale. “Good Lord... You really are her daughter.”

“Yes,” Ayra said, seizing on his reaction. “My mother trusted you, and she wouldn’t have sent me here unless she knew you could help me. Please, Mr. Landor.”

The man sighed and said: "You called her Merissa Russo before?"

"Yes," Ayra replied. "She married my father - Ferdinand Russo."

He stood abruptly, pacing behind his desk. “On that case, you really do not understand one with what you’re asking. Helping you could cost me everything.”

"What?" Ayra asked.

Landor rounded on her.

"You know people are looking high and low for you, right?"

"Well, yes, that's why I - "

"It is settled then! I can't help you!"

Ayra stepped closer. “What are you so afraid of? I just need -”

“YOU need to listen!” Landor snapped, his voice low, forceful. 

“Do you have ANY idea who’s looking for you? The Director is not a man to cross. If Lucian finds out I so much as spoke to you...”

The name sent a chill through Ayra. She knew Lucian was powerful, but hearing Landor’s fear made the fear of him people had in the city seem more than unnerving. 

“I understand the risk,” she said, trying to calm him down and perhaps play the sympathy card. “But I have nowhere else to go.”

Landor shook his head, his hands trembling as he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. 

"I always knew that deal with Marissa was going to bite me in the behind one day," he muttered. 

“You don’t understand the kind of man he is. Lucian controls more than you realize. He has people everywhere. Even this office isn’t safe from his reach. Even fleeing from Scosch is hardly enough.”

Ayra clenched her fists, frustration from dashed hope mounting. “So, you’re just going to turn me away? My mother trusted you!”

“That was a long time ago,” Landor said quietly. “Things have changed.”

“Maybe for you,” Ayra retorted, her frustration boiling over, “but not for me. My life is falling apart. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask to be used, or hunted, or -” 

She broke off, her voice cracking as, suddenly, she found herself breaking down inside emotionally. 

“You were her... Friend. You must have some way to help me. Please.”

Landor’s expression softened for a moment, but the fear and determination returned just as quickly. “I’m sorry, Miss Russo. I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” Ayra demanded, stepping closer.

He met her gaze, guilt flickering in his eyes. “Both.”

Ayra’s chest tightened. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but she could see the truth written all over his face. Landor wasn’t just unwilling - he was terrified.

Ayra stepped back, her hands trembling as she sought to hold herself.

Landor looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

“I’ll find another way,” Ayra said, forcing steel into her voice. “Thank you for seeing me.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the office, her heart pounding. 

She had hoped this meeting would give her a way out she desperately needed, but it had only served to make the noose around her neck feel all the more tighter. 

As the door closed behind her, Landor slumped into his chair, running a hand over his face. 

“Marissa,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “What in the world have you gotten such a little girl into?”

For a moment, he considered going after Ayra and helping her despite the risks. But then the thought of Lucian loomed over him, and he stayed seated, paralyzed by fear.