Chapter 38 #2
"We'll explain later," he said, his voice strained. "These rooms are recorded."
"I don't give a shit about the recordings," Cadence snapped, her hands clenching into fists on the table. "I want to know if what you said in there was true. Did you really falsify my documents? Did you really manipulate my placement at Courts?"
The silence that followed her questions was deafening. I looked at Cole, whose face was a mask of resignation, then at Ryder, who seemed on the verge of breaking. They were both waiting for me to speak, to take the lead as I always did.
"Yes," I said finally, the word like ash in my mouth. "It was my idea. It was all my fault." I stepped closer to the table, needing her to believe me, to believe this lie that might save her life. "I had Ryder falsify the records."
"Why?" Cadence demanded, her voice cracking on the word, fresh tears springing from her eyes. "Why would you do that to me?" I swallowed hard, forcing myself to continue with the fabricated confession.
"It was a mistake. I was pig-headed and stupid. I shouldn't have done it, but..." I hesitated, hating myself for what I was about to say. "I was annoyed when you stood up to me in the quad. When the coffee…" I trailed away, knowing how pathetic it sounded now.
I saw the exact moment understanding dawned on her face. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, a storm of emotions, disbelief, horror, rage, passing across her features in rapid succession.
"You ruined my life over a cup of coffee," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, louder, her control snapping like a wire pulled too tight: "OVER A FUCKING CUP OF COFFEE?" She was on her feet now, her chair scraping loudly against the floor as she shoved it back.
"Do you have any idea what you've done to me?
The hell you put me through? I was kidnapped, tortured, raped, and you, you did all of this because of fucking coffee?
" Each word was a knife, twisting deeper into my gut.
I wanted to tell her that we were lying to save her, that we hadn't done any of this, that we loved her too much to let her suffer for crimes she didn't commit.
But I couldn't. Not if we wanted to keep her safe.
"Cade, please," Ryder begged, his voice breaking. "Just listen-"
"No!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face now. "Get out! All of you, get OUT!"
"Cade-" Cole tried, his calm face cracking.
"I would rather rot in the Hole than ever see any of you again," she sobbed, her body shaking with the force of her rage and grief. "GET OUT!"
She was screaming now, her voice raw and desperate, her hands pressed against her ears as if she could block out our very existence. The door burst open, and an enforcer rushed in, taking in the scene with a practiced eye.
"You need to leave," he told us firmly, moving to stand protectively between us and Cadence.
I wanted to argue, to stay, to somehow make her understand.
But the sight of her, broken, betrayed, believing we had orchestrated her suffering from the very beginning, rendered me speechless.
We had no choice but to let the enforcer usher us out, Cadence's sobs following us into the hallway like physical blows.
The door closed behind us with a final, damning click. Cole leaned against the wall, his face in his hands. Ryder stood frozen, tears tracking silently down his cheeks. And I felt hollow, gutted, as if something vital had been torn from my chest.
"What do we do now?" Cole asked, his voice muffled by his hands.
"We wait," I said, though the words tasted like defeat. "We wait for the tribunal to reconvene, and we hope to God we've done enough."
"She hates us," Ryder whispered, his voice raw with pain. "We ruined her life, and she hates us for it." I didn’t know how to respond. He looked broken. His whole world crashed around him. I knew how he looked, because I felt the same.
We moved through the corridors in a daze, three broken men united in our misery.
The Trivium complex was a labyrinth of marble and glass, cold and impersonal, a fitting backdrop to our despair.
When we reached the main lobby, I was so lost in my thoughts that I nearly collided with a tall, imposing figure.
"Does someone wanna tell me what the fuck is going on?" a cultured voice snapped.
I looked up to find Dominic Blake staring down at me, his expression one of irritated confusion. He was impeccably dressed as always, his dark hair streaked with silver at the temples, his eyes cold and calculating. The sight of him sent a chill down my spine.
"Blake," I said, my voice flat. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question," he replied, his gaze sweeping over the three of us. "I've just returned from a fruitless trip abroad when I heard something about a Consort in custody." His eyes narrowed. "Your Consort, if I'm not mistaken."
"Cade," Cole said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. "They're accusing her of fraud, of falsifying her Legacy status." Blake's eyebrows rose slightly.
"So the girl is being railroaded," Blake mused, something like genuine interest flickering in his cold eyes. "And you three have... what? Confessed to orchestrating the fraud yourselves?" Ryder nodded miserably.
"They're going to send her to the Hole if we can't convince them she's innocent."
"Aaron Purcell is behind it," Cole added, his voice hardening. "He's pushing for her conviction." Blake's expression darkened at the mention of Aaron's name.
"That vindictive bastard, fucking sick of snakes in the grass," he muttered. Then, louder: "And you think your confessions will save her? With Aaron pulling strings?"
"We have to try," I said, desperation edging my voice. "We can't let them take her."
Blake stared at us for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, a sound of profound exasperation.
"Why do I always have to clean up these messes?
" he said, seemingly to himself. Without another word, he brushed past us, striding toward the administrative wing of the complex with purpose in every step.
We watched him go, confusion mingling with our despair.
What did he mean? Was he going to help Cadence, or make things worse? With Blake, it was impossible to tell.
"What the hell was that about?" Ryder asked, voicing what we were all thinking.
"I don't know," Cole replied, his voice hollow.
"But knowing Blake, it can't be good," I said nothing, too exhausted and heartsick to speculate.
All I could think about was Cadence, her face contorted with rage and grief, her screams echoing in my ears, her absolute devastation that we had orchestrated her suffering from the very beginning.
And in trying to save her, we had lost her more completely than ever before.
The three of us stood in the lobby, lost and broken, as the weight of our actions and the uncertainty of Cadence's fate hung over us like a guillotine blade, ready to fall.