Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
W e’re standing outside the courtroom, waiting to be called in. To say I’m nervous is the understatement of the year. Cassie keeps telling me the worst that’ll happen is a postponement, but that does nothing for the weight pressing against my chest.
It’s been less than a week since I walked her through the park near her apartment. I went there planning to spit out an apology and leave. But the moment I saw the fury on her face and the fire behind her eyes—I knew something else was going on.
She hesitated at first, reluctant to walk alone with me.
But when her hand found mine, something shifted.
She didn’t let go, not until the tension got too much for her.
That touch said more than words could. She didn’t just need an apology.
She needed someone to listen. And for some strange, completely uncharacteristic reason, I wanted to be that someone.
I wanted to be her ear, her shoulder. Her anchor.
Before I knew it, my guard was down. It’s too damn easy with her. She has this quiet hold on me, and I don’t think she even realizes it.
“It’s not about how you answer, Axel. Just tell the truth,” she hisses beside me .
I smirk. I love how irritated she gets when I push her buttons, how she tries to hide her amusement behind that no-nonsense mask. But I see it. The way her eyes glint. The way she turns her head so I won’t see her lips twitching.
“The truth?” I echo, arching a brow.
She rolls her eyes and blows a few stray blonde strands from her face. “Okay, not the whole truth.” A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. She pinches her thumb and forefinger close together. “Maybe just... stretch it a little.”
“You’re telling me to lie now?” I whisper, mock-serious as I step in close, toe to toe. She always gets flustered when I invade her space. “I always knew you were bad,” I tease with a wink, watching a blush creep up her neck.
“Axel,” she breathes out, brows drawing together like she’s figuring out her response.
“Okay, okay.” I raise my hands in surrender.
I mean to step back—but then her hands press lightly to my chest, stopping me cold.
It’s the first real, voluntary contact she’s given me in days, and it roots me in place.
My eyes flick to her fingers, trailing the curve of her hand against my lapel—and my thoughts immediately go somewhere they shouldn’t.
Fuck.
“Unless you want them to know your alibi,” she questions, her voice softer now. She glances up at me with those green eyes—gentle, clear, and way too easy to fall into. “Didn’t think so. Stick to the basics. And please, please don’t talk to the judge unless he speaks to you first.”
“Why?” I grin, baiting her again.
She shoots me a flat look—the kind that says I’m serious —and that little flicker of authority only turns me on more.
Cassie turns away just as my case number is called.
I watch her smooth down her blazer and take a few steadying breaths.
I can’t tell if she’s nervous or just psyching herself up, but watching her fluster like that is. .. honestly, kind of adorable.
“Ready?” she asks quietly .
I nod in response.
A sneering voice cuts through the air behind us. “I thought you were fired?”
The anger hits me like a spark to gasoline.
D.A. Daniels.
I fight the urge to turn around and break his jaw. But then Cassie does something that stops me short. She turns to him and smirks. “Guess I know what I’m getting into after all,” she retorts, winking at him.
Daniels blinks, caught off guard. Hell, I’m caught off guard. This isn’t just sass—it’s protective. She’s defending me. And damn if that doesn’t hit me harder than it should.
Then I hear them—Trigger and Hunter, mostly—their voices cutting through the tension like blades.
They’re swaggering toward us like they own the goddamn building, like they’re walking into a fight they’ve already won.
Typical . I lift my chin in acknowledgment, a silent greeting, one we’ve all come to recognize in places like this where words don’t carry as much weight as looks do.
There’s no time to stop and talk—not with Cassie leading the way like a woman on a mission—so I follow her through the heavy doors, into the courtroom without a word.
My eyes drop the second I’m behind her. Cassie’s ass moves with this effortless confidence, a subtle sway that borders on hypnotic.
It’s maddening. The kind of motion that makes you forget where you are, or what’s at stake.
My throat tightens, and before I even realize what I’m doing, my tongue swipes across my bottom lip like I’m dying for a taste.
Maybe I am. Not just for her body—though, hell, that’s a given—but for the control she has, the cool, calculated poise that somehow still manages to light me up inside.
She walks like she owns the place, and for a second, I’m not sure if I’m following her into a courtroom or straight into hell. Either way, I’ll be behind her.
She stops at the defense table, gesturing for me to sit. I swallow the nerves and obey— for once —without a word. A firm squeeze on my shoulders from Trigger and Hunter reminds me they’ve got my back and Cassie notices, offering them a quick smile and a subtle nod.
We rise as Judge Michaelson enters. Cassie stands tall, exuding confidence. She glances over at Daniels with quiet defiance, then turns back to me with a wink.
We’ve got this. She’s saying it without words.
And suddenly, that’s enough.
The arraignment begins. Cassie paces in front of the judge like she owns the floor. Not pleading, but commanding the room. Telling them exactly how it’s going to go.
Then Daniels opens his mouth, dragging out some bloated, half-assed argument about my supposed guilt, relying on headlines and hearsay like that’s enough to put me away. His voice is smug, too polished, but there’s a hint of desperation underneath—like even he knows he’s grasping at straws.
Cassie’s jaw tightens, her spine stiffening an inch. I can see it—he’s getting under her skin, and that pisses me off more than the accusations.
Judge Michaelson shifts in his seat, heavy robes rustling as he turns toward her. “Miss Caruthers. How does the defendant plead?”
She rises with all the grace of someone born to command a room. Not a flicker of doubt in her. Her hands smooth down her skirt—sharp and deliberate—and then she looks Michaelson square in the eye. “Not guilty, your honor.”
A beat of silence follows. I swear even the air holds its breath.
“On what grounds?”
“Lack of substantial evidence, a confirmed alibi, and wrongful accusation based on reputation.”
Goddamn. She doesn’t just say it—she means it. There’s no stutter, no hesitation. She’s not just defending me; she’s daring the whole room to prove her wrong.
The judge leans forward, turning to address Daniels. By the look on his face, the judge is already unimpressed. “Can you present evidence to the contrary?”
Daniels is a mess. His confidence is unraveling by the second—he’s sweating through his cheap suit, flipping the pages of the file on his table like maybe the truth’s hiding between the lines. He looks like a priest caught mid-sermon at a strip club.
“Not at this moment,” he stammers, and I swear I hear someone snort quietly behind me.
Micahelson’s face hardens. “You pushed for an early trial, Mr. Daniels.”
“Yes, but?—”
“Miss Caruthers, anything further?”
Cassie doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. She’s a statue carved out of cool defiance and raw brilliance. “Yes, your honor. Motion to dismiss the trial.”
The courtroom ripples with quiet murmurs—whispers like wind stirring just before a storm.
“Your honor!” Daniels barks, panic in his tone now.
The gavel cracks once, a warning thunderclap.
“Silence,” the judge bellows before returning his attention to Cassie.
She steps forward, undeterred by the commotion she’s caused as she continues, “…Insufficient evidence against my client. This trial is built on assumption and reputation. You can’t convict a man based on what he might have done.
And you can’t try a man when there’s no evidence.
My client deserves better than that. This courtroom deserves better. ”
Her voice rings out, calm and sharp, every word sinking deep into the walls of this place like she’s etching it into history. She’s not just defending me—she’s dismantling the entire case with precision.
The room is frozen. No one dares move. Even Hunter mutters from behind, “That’s hot.”
I shoot him a glare, but my mouth betrays me with a grin. Trigger elbows him hard, but he's smirking too. We're all watching her unravel the case, piece by piece, armed with nothing but her voice. And if that isn’t sexy as sin then I don’t deserve to be in her presence.
The judge looks between Cassie and Daniels like he’s watching a match he didn’t realize was so one-sided. The tension is razor-thin.
Then— bam —the gavel strikes.
“Dismissal denied.”
The words hit harder than any punch I’ve taken. My stomach sinks. I rub my damp palms over my trousers, fingers twitching. I stare at them, willing them to steady, but I can feel myself unraveling, the frayed edges I thought I’d stitched shut years ago tearing open again.
Cassie must sense it. Her hand brushes against mine under the table, subtle yet reassuring. I glance down just as she gestures with a single finger: wait.
So I do.
Judge Michaelson exhales like this whole circus has exhausted him. I echo it, lungs finally giving up the tight hold they’ve had for the last half an hour.
“But I’ll allow bail to continue,” he announces, his voice firm. “You understand the conditions, Mr. Bonanno?”
Shock stabs through my chest. For a second, I don’t even register the words. Cassie nudges me again. I rise slowly, blood thrumming in my ears.
“Yes, your honor,” I answer, my voice steady even as everything inside me quakes.
The gavel slams down again; I flinch.
“Court will reconvene in two weeks. Mr. Daniels, if you don’t have evidence by then, I’ll have no choice but to dismiss this case.”
Cassie’s shoulders visibly relax and it’s like the room is suddenly flooded with oxygen.
The courtroom buzzes as people rise, but I’m still rooted in place, trying to piece together what the hell just happened. Cassie told me this would be the worst-case outcome. And she was right. It’s barely a scratch because I still get to walk out that door.
She leans close, her breath warm against my ear. “Told you so.”
Her voice drips with smugness, but her eyes sparkle with something softer.
And all I can think about is how much I want to kiss that look right off her face.
I want to pin her to the defense table and thank her properly, recklessly, sinfully.
But I don’t. I can’t. Not here. I’ve still got an empire to protect, a name that means something—even if it’s soaked in blood.
But fuck me , watching her rip Daniels apart like that, command the room like she was born to rule it? That’s the hottest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.
She lifts a brow, like she can read my filthy thoughts. Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. That spark’s still there, dancing in her expression like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
My lips curl into a slow grin.
And I think I’m in trouble.