Cold-Blooded

Chapter 1

The cold steel of the handcuffs dug into my wrists as the jury foreperson's words echoed through the courtroom: "Not guilty." A surge of whispers and the rustling of papers filled the air, but I remained outwardly composed, my gaze fixed on the worn carpet beneath my feet. Inside, my heart pounded with a tumult of disbelief and simmering anger. I had not taken a life — at least, not that they knew of. The events leading to this moment flashed through my mind like a frenzied montage, each frame a snapshot of how quickly life could unravel.

As the bailiff approached to remove the restraints, I saw a forgotten coat slung haphazardly over a chair nearby. Its fabric beckoned with a promise of concealment, and without a second thought, I snatched it up. The weight of something metallic nestled within its folds confirmed my suspicion. It was far too large, clearly not mine, but desperation and instinct made me slip it on, hiding the bulges of concealed weapons beneath its bulk.

Across the room, my lawyer met my gaze with a subtle nod of understanding. We had rehearsed this moment in whispers and stolen glances during the trial. I took a steadying breath, savouring the brief taste of freedom wrested from the jaws of injustice. "Thank you," I murmured to my lawyer and the judge, my voice a calm facade over the roiling storm within.

Turning to leave, my movements careful yet swift, the courtroom held its breath. Then, the quiet shattered. As I stood up a gun slipped from the coat's pocket, hitting the floor with a sharp clatter that seemed to reverberate off the walls. Time stopped for a heartbeat; the room froze in disbelief at this stark reminder of the chaos I had brought into this temple of order. My stomach clenched, but there was no time to dwell.

Before the officers could react, I bolted for the double doors, heart hammering against my ribs—the hallway beyond blurred into a mosaic of faces, footsteps, and emergency lights.

My heels clicked on the marble floor like the ticking of a countdown. Behind me, alarms blared into the chaos, boots pounding in pursuit. Every nerve screamed for escape, for justice against the betrayal that had nearly cost me everything. I had been on the brink of reclaiming my life, and now I was thrust back into the game as a fugitive, a player in a high-stakes drama I had not realised I was starring in.

I navigated the labyrinthine corridors with the familiarity of someone who had frequented these halls for reasons less noble than justice. A door swung open ahead, and I barrelled through, barely registering the surprised face of a young officer I collided with. He staggered, momentarily stunned, as I surged past without a second glance, my sole focus on reaching the exit.

Outside, the crisp night air slapped my face, a jolt to my senses. The parking lot sprawled before me, rows of cars promising anonymity and escape. I bounded down the stairs, adrenaline fuelling every stride.

At the bottom, a car screeched to a halt. Theodore, my childhood friend, and confidant leaned out the open driver's side door, eyes wide with fear yet determination etched into his features. "Teddy, you came," I gasped, a surge of relief and disbelief flooding through me.

Without a word, he gestured urgently, urging me into the passenger seat. The stolen coat billowed around me like a cloak of defiance as I threw myself into the car. The engine roared to life, tyres squealing in protest as Theodore floored the accelerator. We veered sharply, narrowly missing a barricade of officers flooding into the lobby.

Outside the car windows, the world streaked by in a blur of motion and colour, starkly contrasting the suffocating confines of the courtroom. At that moment, as the wind whipped through my hair and freedom beckoned on the horizon, I knew that I was finally in control of my fate despite the chaos and uncertainty ahead.

(A/N - What do you all think about this chapter??)