The Traitor ✓ (Book Six)

Chapter Twenty Five

  She turns around on her heel, off to find her client before the trial starts. Like always I follow her, that is my job, and I haven't learned my way around this place.

The place is a maze- The architecture confusing to someone who hasn't been around it for years. I'm behind her, carefully watching every person that passes. It's almost indescribable, the way she carries herself- because she knows how powerful her presence is.

Because sure, people took notice at her becoming a lawyer because of her dad- but then they saw how amazing she is and that stuck out. She turns a corner- and yes, I do recognize this as the hallway in front of courtroom one. I haven't gotten around to asking how many there are.

In here, there's even more press. I take a deep breath- I'll be fine. That's what I tell myself. The few people in this country who do know my real name think that I'm dead.

I make eye contact with a reporter and smile. She doesn't blink- neither do any of the others. They must be from local stations, too.

"Damon-"

I immediately snap out of it at the sound of Maria's voice. I can't afford to be spacing out, not here and not with her. A split second could- does mean the difference between life and death. She raises an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry... forgive me I just thought I recognized someone." I lie.

"Well save the spacing for tonight-" She sighs. "The last living rapist is testifying today and I get to question him."

Great. Just great.

It feels like we're the last people to arrive. The seating meant for observers is completely full, some spilling out into the back and aisles.

  And there he is- that motherfucker that somehow managed to live. When I look at him I'm filled with nothing but disgust. Having grown up around so many women, and being raised by mostly women- I always felt protective. It's one of the reasons I kept saying I would get Emily out, though I knew deep down it would never happen.

  There was one moment, though- where we were both hopeful, when she spent about twenty minutes not being angry at me. The power went out, which caused all of the keycard operated doors to falter. (You'd think they would have learned their lessons after that and get a generator, but nooooo). I saw this as an opportunity. Even if I got stuck behind and never knew what her life became, even if I was the one getting to retired afterwards, it would be well worth it to know I somewhat made up for the trauma she had to endure.

  So I went to her. Asked her to come with me, and I thought we were home free when we made it onto the grass field above headquarters. She was so happy. We were not out of the clear yet. About five seconds later, she got shot in the back of the leg and we both got dragged back in. They tortured her and made me watch- because they knew that was plenty painful.

  I never tried to help her escape again, not really. I told myself I was formulating a real plan, but now I can see it:  I have never been good enough, and I never will be. I am not a good person, and I never will be.

  So as I finally take my eyes away from the motherfucker, I force myself to keep it together. Punching him probably won't help me keep my job, or draw attention away from myself.  Maria takes a seat at the defense table. I'm just behind her, in observation but close enough to lunge forward if something happens. She whispers something unintelligible to the girl's other defense attorney.

  I take a moment to really observe the room, as I've done countless times before. There are twelve jurors- two Hispanic, four black, five white, and one Native American. Seven women and five men. They are all sitting the same way- I'm assuming this is all of their first times on a jury. Nervous and not ready for this, they shift their legs every few seconds and breathe heavily.

  Reporters and cameramen are as close to the front as allowed, a few mumbling things into a mic to their partners on air. I turn around, focusing my attention back to the front just as the judge gavels the court in.

  "Court is now in session-" She says. "The defense attorney may not question the primary witness."

  Maria carries her open notebook to the witness stand with her. This should be entertaining. I've seen her do it before, and when she has that notebook it never ends well.

  "Mr.Lee-" She starts. "You say, for lack of a better word, Ms.Rose beat the living shit out of you. I mean, that eye has definitely looked better-"

  "Objection- why is this relevant?" The guy's attorney stand up.

  "Sustained." The judge takes a sip of water, not even humoring him.

"Thank you-" Maria smiles. "Now as I was saying, do you believe what she did was justified?"

  "No." He answers immediately. "Absolutely not."

  Well that's a load of bullsh-

"Really? So you agree with the statement 'rape is okay?" She raises an eyebrow.

  "What? No of course not-"

  "But you admit to raping this woman's best friend?"

"No, I would never-"

  "So now you're going to lie under oath? Because we already know what happened that night, Mr. Lee."

  The motherfucker leans forward as much as his injuries will allow and glares into Maria's eyes. For a second I'm afraid he might try to hit her, so I'm on the edge of my seat too.

  "It doesn't matter what I did. This isn't my trial."

  "Oh it matter more than you know, Mr.Lee." She leans forward. I bite the inside of my cheek. "See, her best friend may not be here anymore to press charges, but let me go over exactly what happened that night for the jury. At approximately eight pm, my client's best friend started walking home as she always did. Then, she was dragged to the scene of the crime by a group of eight men- Mr.Lee included, and they raped her multiple times. My client, who was on a walk at the time and was going to step aside to take a break, found them. Upon discovering what they did to her, she killed every single one of them. My client was only avenging her best friend. In law, there is a term called justified murder, and I have no doubt in my mind that this incident fully qualifies."