Chapter One
Washington, DC, Federal Courthouse
All eyes in the room were on her. Kenna Banbury, no, KennaJaxtonsat in front of an expansive room packed with people. A camera flash erupted from one corner, and she blinked against the glow. Cameras rolling. Pens poised. A gallery full of reporters waiting for what she had to say.
Waiting for her to explain.
“Mrs. Jaxton?”
She smoothed her hands along the knees of her slacks and looked at the prosecutor, her comfy frame in a stylish suit. Hair curled, makeup perfect. She knew she would be on the news, or even in documentaries in years to come, and she’d prepped.
Meanwhile, Kenna was still trying to figure out why this court case was nothing like any case she’d testified in. Ever.
None of it made sense. But then, this wasn’t a case like any other, was it?
Kenna scanned along the tables on either side of the aisle, all surrounded by teams of high-profile lawyers. Over her rightshoulder, perched above her was an older Caribbean American man in judge’s robes, wearing a scowl on his face. The jury sat to her left, people the government had handpicked as a cross section of the nation.
She closed her eyes, half expecting to feel the baby within her. But it had been months. Their daughter was safe with Jax right now—and would be forever. No matter what happened here, their child would be cared for. She would grow up never knowing the terror Kenna had lived through, or the fight their family had undertaken to free the world of a deadly force of puppet masters intent on changing history.
“Your Honor,” the US attorney said.
Kenna heard the unspoken judgment in her words.
The judge said, “Mrs. Jaxton, would you like the prosecution to restate their question?”
She opened her eyes and looked at him, still wearing that scowl. “Sorry, Your Honor.”
“This courtroom…this country…does not have the time or the inclination to sit here waiting for you to explain these events.”
Was she supposed to say sorry again?
Kenna cleared her throat. “Can the prosecution please restate their question?”
US Attorney Rebecca Hasworth smoothed down the front of her suit jacket and shifted her weight from one heel to the other. Regretting wearing the shoes that made her seem taller than she was?
Someone in the jury coughed, breaking the quiet. It was strange that so many people could make so little noise.
The attorney took a couple of steps toward her. “Mrs. Jaxton, would you please enlighten this court as to your involvement in the events of January 30?”
Everyone knew what she was talking about, but Kenna wasn’t going to answer a question she hadn’t been asked. “Which events specifically are you referring to?”
Hasworth was a professional, and she’d earned her position here today. She didn’t exactly bristle, but it was close.
“I was in Evanston, Wyoming, on January 30. What are you asking if I was involved in?”
“We’ve all seen the news reports. It’s why we’re here. The court of public opinion has deemed you guilty by association, or perhaps the source of the threat itself. But public opinion does not determine guilt or innocence here. That is something we ask the jury to decide. Therefore, as this is the matter that has brought all of us here, you are required by law to give this court an honest testimony. The massacre that took place in Chicago on January 30 is public record, and we are here to determine who the guilty party is. The people of the United States of America demand justice.”
“Objection,” the defense said. “Sounds like counsel is seeking to testify, not ask a question.”
“Sustained.”
Only someone who had never investigated a crime would think justice was something that could be demanded.
“The question is, what does justice demand of us?” Kenna stared at the prosecutor, resolute in her determination to honor the system. She’d worked to uphold it her entire life. But the cost? She’d paid a high price to see this through to the end, and a lot of that time hadn’t been all in with the fight. It felt more like being dragged into something, kicking and screaming. Just at the point in her life when she wanted to live her happily ever after, she’d been sucked into the fight againstDominatus.
And for what? She and her family had barely survived.
They’d been sifted like wheat. What was that expression? Weighed, measured, and found wanting.But God.The onlyreason they’d made it out the other side was because He had brought them through it.
