I turn to Noah. “Is Peyton here?” My heart rate kicks up in preparation for that little shit bailing on us.
“I escorted Edwin here myself,” Noah says with a triumphant grin.
Parker shakes his head, and I can’t help the small giggle that escapes. It’s mostly relief. And a little bit for the use of Edwin’s name.
The judge enters the courtroom before I can say anything else, and a silence descends over everyone. The judge looks around at all the people filling every spare inch of the place and gives a questioning look to the security guards. They shrug as if this has never happened before.
The judge seems confused but drops it and, with a wave of her hand, ushers in the prosecutors and defendants.
I brace myself for Owen’s entrance, and Declan reaches for my hand and gives it a supportive squeeze.
Owen looks like he always did. Dressed in a suit, showered, with a stray strand of dark hair falling across his brow. My heart practically stalls at the sight of him, but the tears gather when he finally looks around the room at everyone who showed up.
For him.
I notice the subtle change in his expression. The sudden realization that maybe he’s not the monster he thinks he is.
A single tear falls down my face.
Peyton performs his role perfectly, and I silently swear to thank him for that sometime soon. Everything else goes by the book, and the prosecution looks shell-shocked with the evidence presented. All-in-all, it goes exactly how we’d hoped, but the jury is unreadable, and when we’re dismissed for a lunch break, my nerves take over.
Declan sticks by my side like glue, even when his phone is clearly blowing up with messages from work.
“You don’t want to get those?” I ask him, stuffing another bite of a cafeteria sandwich in my mouth, desperately trying not to think about how Owen is doing.
Declan shakes his head. “I only have a week left of this anyway.”
I scrunch my nose, my hand halting my next bite. “You’re resigning right after my trial?”
“What’s the point of staying any longer? You won’t be there, and I’ll likely be fired.”
I sigh. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t convince Declan to do anything. He’s made up his mind, and when he does, it’s as though nothing could change it.
“I know that look,” he says as I stuff the last of my sandwich in my mouth.
I raise a brow and smirk.
“You don’t agree with my decision,” he says, slightly amused.
“Of course I don’t, dumbass.”
Declan’s eyebrows furrow at the insult, but he doesn’t stop me from continuing.
“You didnothingwrong. You followed protocol. It was me who didn’t. And though we know the mission in Italy got thirty-five people killed, at least we know why now, and that it had nothing to do with you or me. We were doomed from the start. And everything with Owen… You didn’t even know what was going on because I chose not to tell you. If you think for one moment you aren’t fit for the director position, I will quite literally throw you through that wall over there.” I point past his head for emphasis.
He doesn’t fall for my antics and keeps his gaze on me. “What if I’m resigning because I want to?”
I glare at him. “If that’s true, which I know it’s not, then I’d support your decision.”
He huffs. “You think you know me so well, don’t you?”
“I’m pretty sure I know you better than you know yourself.”
He raises a brow in challenge.
“First, you like your coffee sweet as hell with extra whipped cream, eventhough you order it black in front of others.”
Declan pales, and I sit up straighter in my chair, ready to take the fucker out.
