15
ELI
The courtroom feels wrong.
Too open. Too many sight lines I can't control. Federal marshals positioned at key points but not enough coverage for the variables. Graves sits at the defense table in restraints, but restraints can be compromised. Systems fail. People make mistakes.
And Traci's about to walk into the kill zone.
Helena's in the witness room. Sequestered until she testifies. Standard protocol that makes tactical sense but leaves me handling this alone. Want her beside me. Want her scent cutting through the courthouse smell of furniture polish and fear. Want the grounding contact of her hand in mine when tactical instincts scream to extract Traci and eliminate the threat.
But witness sequestration means she can't hear Traci's testimony before giving her own. So I sit in the gallery alone while Rebecca escorts Traci to the stand.
The prosecutor stands. "The United States calls Traci Vance."
Rebecca walks with her to the witness stand. Traci's small frame seems even smaller against the formal courtroom backdrop. She raises her right hand, takes the oath. Holds up her notebook with the wordsI do.
My hands grip the gallery bench. White-knuckled. Wishing Helena was here to ground me. But she's in the witness room. Waiting. Not knowing what's happening. That isolation probably eating at her the same way sitting here watching eats at me.
The questioning begins. Traci answering with careful precision. Facts delivered in writing in her notebook. Creating distance between herself and the memory.
Smart girl. Keeps her functional when emotion would break her.
But watching her testify—watching her relive what Graves did—makes violence simmer under my skin. The kind I've spent four years trying to contain. The kind that got children killed in Syria because I hesitated when I should've pulled the trigger.
Won't hesitate with Graves. If the system fails, if he walks, I'll handle it myself. Put him down like the predator he is and deal with the consequences after.
I need Helena here. Need her scent, her touch, the grounding pressure that keeps me from disappearing into operator mode where the only solution is elimination. But witness sequestration means she's isolated. Probably pacing. Probably running scenarios about her own testimony.
I wish I could go to her. Pin her against the wall until she stops thinking. Make her focus on my hands, my mouth, the certainty of my claim instead of courtroom anxiety.
The prosecutor walks Traci through timeline. Compound details. Who was there. What Graves said and did. Building the case methodically.
Then he asks the critical question. "Traci, did Simon Graves know you were being held at his compound?"
She writes quickly and surely in her notebookYes. He gave orders about me specifically. Told the handlers Iwas valuable merchandise. That I needed to be kept in good condition for high-value clients.
My jaw clenches. Hearing it stated in open court. The clinical terminology Graves used to describe a teenage girl he was selling.
I want Helena here. Want to feel her body against mine. Want the distraction of her scent and warmth to cut through the rage building in my chest. But she's isolated in the witness room. Won't know what Traci just said until she reads the transcript later.
Good. She doesn't need to hear this twice. Once when she testifies will be enough.
Defense gets their turn. Expensive suit. Practiced sympathy. Questions designed to undermine.
"Ms. Vance, you testified that you were held for approximately two years. During that time, were you given any medications?"
The strategy becomes clear. Attack Traci's reliability. Plant doubt about her mental state.
Bastard's good at his job. Making reasonable arguments sound compassionate. Making Traci question her own memory.
But Traci holds. She writes the answers to each question with the same careful precision. When defense produces photos showing no visible scar on Graves's hand, she doesn't break. Just waits while prosecution pulls arrest documentation proving she's right.
Pride cuts through the violence. That's my niece. A survivor who learned to see everything because noticing details meant staying alive.
Finally, defense counsel sits. Traci's released from the stand.
She's shaking when she walks back toward the gallery. Rebecca guides her to a seat. Traci's eyes find mine across the courtroom.
