Chapter 40 #2
On the arm of the sofa, Heidi leaves a note scrawled in big black letters for Jordan and Claudia and I make my way to the front door, praying that this will be over quickly, hopefully with a better outcome than the one I’m picturing in my head.
The air outside is warmer than feels appropriate. Heidi’s hand slips into mine as we head down the street.
“Milly!”
I stop, spine stiffening at the sickly-sweet voice, and turn. Nina is jogging towards us, decked head to toe in red. Red skirt, red lips, red shoes, as though mocking the situation. A grimace twists my mouth.
“I’m coming with you guys,” she says, smiling as she stops a few feet away.
“Nina—”
“No, you aren’t,” I snarl, voice sharper than glass.
“I am.” She doesn’t falter. “I’m here to support you.”
I take a step towards her, heat rising beneath my skin. “Rayden, get her out of here before I make sure she bleeds red in every spot she’s missed.”
Nina just raises a brow, clearly amused. “Why are you—”
Bitch.
“Nina, leave,” Rayden orders, his voice clipped.
“This is how you’re spending our day off. So, I’m coming with,” she retorts, crossing her arms over her flat chest.
“Nina, go home—”
Her gaze snaps to Ray’s. “You never spend any time there! It’s not fair and I won’t have it—”
A snarl threatens to spill from my lips, and I take another threatening step towards her.
“Fuck off, Nina.” It’s Jace who snaps, fierce and rough, with no room for argument. “You don’t give a shit about Kayla or Zac. Emilia’s right; get the fuck out of here.”
Nina falters, mouth opening and closing, her false confidence bleeding out of her. “I… You…” Her eyes dart between us, finally landing on Ray as her last hope.
“Go home,” Rayden grits out, voice like iron. “Now.” I’ve never heard him sound like that before. Threatening. It works. Nina’s eyes widen, colour draining from her cheeks before she glares at him, lip quivering. Her eyes dart to me, and then she spins on her heel and stalks away.
“Sorry—”
“Shut up, Ray,” I mutter. “She isn’t your fault.”
His lips purse, but his head dips in acceptance.
No one speaks after that. We head down the street as a unit, the four of them flanking Jace and I.
Halfway down the road, Jace’s hand curls around mine, giving it a soft squeeze.
I glance up, his bright hazel eyes meeting mine, filled with so much turmoil that I almost break, stumbling slightly in my boots.
He and Kayla might not be soulmates, but they’re bound in their own way.
Friends, or friends with benefits, there’s a connection there, however platonic or complicated it might be.
He’s walking beside me, and I can almost feel the ache radiating off him, the same helplessness that’s been eating me alive.
I’m still not entirely convinced that Zac even likes me, not really. Lust means nothing, especially these days. That night outside the bar or factory—the way he looked at me, making me feel like the only girl in the world—it doesn’t mean a thing, even if I can’t get it out of my mind.
The betrayal burns every time I think of it. Whoever reported them… whoever handed their names to the State… I can’t ignore it. I want to tear them apart.
It takes us half an hour to reach the old courthouse, in heavy silence that’s broken only by footsteps and the occasional rumble of a truck in the distance. Each one is a painful reminder that it’s not Zac out there, where he should be.
My stomach twists tighter with each new road, nausea swirling in my gut.
When we finally reach the fortress-style stone facade, two Enforcers stand at the glass entrance, rifles resting lazily against their shoulders. Their eyes track us as we approach.
Jace is the one who has the courage to step forward, telling them why we’re here and who we are. Nothing flickers in their expressions, no guilt or sorrow or pity, just robots that open the glass doors, hands on their rifles. One of them leads us inside, gesturing for us to follow.
The air is musty and stale as we’re led down a yellow lit corridor, and he stops in an opening lined with chairs, a few feet in front of some wooden double doors.
“Wait here,” he grunts, before disappearing inside.
I perch on the edge of the uncomfortable grey seat, hands gripping it tightly, knees shaking as I stare at the floor. Sam starts pacing; Heidi leans against the wall on one side of me; Rayden’s arms cross over his chest as he stands, wide and rigid, on the other side.
Minutes crawl by—eyes continuously darting to the black clock on the wall—each one louder than the last. My palms are damp.
Jace perches on the seat across from me, hands clenched together, elbows resting on his knees, head dipped.
I tug my lip between my teeth, biting down until a sting erupts along the skin, grounding me.
Steadying me. Reminding me to keep. It. The fuck. Together.
“Em!” The shout echoes around us, every head snapping up.
Claudia’s sprinting down the corridor, hair stuck to her forehead, wearing a blue checked shirt that I swear the workers wear at the stores. Jordan’s right behind her, equally breathless, still in his overalls.
“Oh my god,” she gasps, practically diving for me. Her arms crush around me, and I nearly slide off the chair from the force. All of a sudden, I realise that I’m shaking and have no idea how long for. She rubs her hands along my arms.
“You made it,” I breathe out, voice breaking on the last word.
“Thank fuck, they’re running late.” She pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes heavy. “We ran down here as soon as we saw the note.”
I nod, and Jordan rests a hand on Jace’s shoulder.
Before any of us can say any more, the Enforcer reappears. “They’re ready for you.”
The double doors are wrenched open, and all of a sudden my heart is pounding. Blood roars through my veins, and my breath thins.
We file inside, the seven of us moving like we’re walking into a trap.
The room is vast but bland, classic wooden pews stretching towards the front where two stands have been erected.
Enforcers line the walls, guns at their hips, and the air is heavy with the scent of leather, ink, and something metallic.
My heart slams against my ribs so hard it hurts.
Ten people shuffle in and take their seats.
The jury.
My gaze darts to the woman in the middle. Ruby Engleberry.
Of course.
She’s smirking, leaning in to whisper something to the man beside her, her pink painted lips smiling like she’s not holding the fate of my husband and friend—one of her own workers—in her hand. I don’t recognise any of the rest, but from the way Jordan tenses, I think he does.
It doesn’t matter.
Seeing Engleberry is enough to show me that the verdict’s already been decided.
There’s no one else here for Zac or Kayla. No one else found out in time to attend. It’s just the seven of us.
My pulse stutters when Elissa Germain enters. Her salt and pepper hair is piled into an elaborate twist, not a strand out of place. She’s dressed in black, long, dramatic—fucking theatrical. Like this is a funeral.
Maybe it is.
“She’s playing Judge?” Heidi hisses beside me.
“It would appear so,” Claudia says, her jaw clenched.
“I wouldn’t expect any different,” Sam mutters.
I can’t even respond. I keep my eyes fixed on the front, because I know that if I let them drift—if I let myself feel—I’ll shatter.
Germain sits behind an elaborate table, on an equally elaborate, green cushioned seat.
“Please bring the defendants in,” she says suddenly, her voice loud around the room. My breath catches, hands tightening around Heidi and Claudia’s as the door at the far end of the courtroom creaks open. Enforcers move into formation, their boots thudding in sync.
For a second, the air itself freezes.
Please, please, be okay.
The words repeat over, and over in my head.
And then I see movement behind the door.
I freeze.