In Love and Diplomacy

Chapter Forty-Two: Cruz-ing For a Bruising

"Let me tell you what I wish I'd known,
When I was young and dreamed of glory
You have no control..."

- Hamilton, "History Has Its Eyes on You"

Chapter Forty-Two

The room was tense. I was surprised no one had keeled over yet from the sheer weight of it all. It pervaded the air of Greystone. There was nowhere to run. It was time to end this.

"Avery."

Cruz spoke my name calmly, but his expression was flabbergasted. I was furious and feral, and he'd never seen me like this before. I myself couldn't remember a time when I was so angry, so beside myself with the acidic boil of fury.

I was finally, finally demanding answers. The claws were out — because apparently it was the only way to get them.

"Let's sit." Cruz slowly gestured to the table. The entire room was holding its breath, waiting to see my next move. Movement was out of the question when a wild animal walked the edge, and I still toed the line. My chest was heaving, panting for breath.

But I'd let Cruz state his case. I worked in law; I respected the sanctity of trial, even if he didn't. I respected the right of defense in the face of prosecution. So I moved back and took a seat at the table, everyone's eyes still on me as I settled. For once, I was judge and jury. For once, I wasn't the one who needed to defend myself.

Julian and Simon moved first. Simon took a seat between me and Quentin, a buffer of sorts, and Julian settled next to him to help fortify it. Cruz moved slowly to the other side of the table to sit across from me, his eyes wary. His gaze drew cautiously over the tense wall of bodies across from him.

Reed was the last to settle at the table, but he didn't sit at Quentin's empty side. He crossed over and sat right next to me, just like Simon had. I was flanked by the men of Greystone, men I'd grown to trust more than the man in front of me. The one I'd trusted for years.

Cruz took a deep breath as he cast another questioning glance around the table, this time at his old friend Quentin. But Quentin didn't meet his gaze. He was only looking at me. His expression was almost distasteful accusation, but I couldn't think of anything he could accuse me of.

Making a scene, maybe? But excuse me for losing my shit when I'm stuck in this absolute shitshow of a summer. I am owed answers. I am owed weeks of my life back.

I wouldn't trade my time with Reed for anything, but it was the principle of the 'going-on-the-run' aspect of it all. There was nothing for Quentin to accuse me of; I could really only think of things he could be accused of, albeit with only speculative evidence.

"Now that we're all settled, let's take a breath. Quentin mentioned Warren Cawton was being interrogated. What did we learn? Has he given any answers?" Cruz asked, apparently deciding to start at the beginning, ignoring my outburst.

What did we learn? What did we learn? We learned a lot of shit about you and your potential felonies, Derek Cruz!

Simon was the one who cleared his throat to answer the question. Simon always moved or spoke first. Julian wasn't present for everything that'd occurred, and Reed and I were not offering responses. So, Simon did. Simon explained Warren's crumbled alibi, his contradictory statements, and the discoveries on his laptop. Simon filled the room in on Warren's odd body language, his slip-ups, and his unwavering belief in the good of his own cause. Cruz and Quentin listened intently, even leaning closer as Simon described Warren's explanation of a corrupt partnership. Simon informed them of the horrid affair involving moral and legal wrongdoings between the government and Seaplast.