A/N: I would just like to make a short apology in advance for any grammar/spelling errors that may be in this. I didn't have time to proofread it because I really just wanted to get the next chapter to you guys as soon as possible, so here it is! I apologize for the delay but I've been so caught up in Christmas and New Year that I've barely had the motivation to write. But I hope you enjoy!
Six Months Later
*Scott POV*
I watched as Mitch valiantly took the stand, his chest slowly rising and falling as I watched him steady his breaths. Being in the same room as Trevor and not killing him was enough to set me on edge, but I tried to keep my cool and remember exactly why I was here. I was here to support the beautiful man that is my fiancé, and to make sure that the bastard who hurt him goes away forever.
Randall asked Mitch a few questions that I’d heard them rehearse many times over the past few months of preparation, and Mitch answered each of them accordingly, his voice as strong as ever. I paid close attention to his eyes and how they never left Randall’s face for even a second to glance at Trevor. That had been Randall’s first piece of trial advice. He’d said that looking at him might frighten him to the point of messing up their carefully rehearsed question and answers.
Randall had told Mitch to be prepared in case Trevor’s lawyer wanted to question him, but he’d said that it was a very small possibility. He didn’t think that Trevor’s team would be able to disprove Mitch’s story in any way, so when Randall ended his questioning, I let out a small sigh of relief. He’d gotten through it.
That was until, of course, Trevor’s lawyer stood, causing my breath to catch in my throat.
“Your honor, I’d like to ask Mr. Grassi a few questions of my own,” he said confidently.
Mitch shot me a worried look, and I’m sure that his expression mirrored that on my own face. I tried to reassure him telepathically that this would all be over soon and not to freak out, but even then I could see the pace of his breathing increase rapidly as the lawyer got to his feet.
“Mr. Grassi,” he started, “Can you please explain again the events of the date in question. The date where you claim that my client viciously attacked you and your partner.”
The smug tone in his voice was enough to make me want to punch him, but it also made me worry about where he might be taking this.
“Um,” Mitch started nervously. “He, uh, came to the motel at which we were staying,”
“I’m sorry,” the lawyer interrupted. “Why were you at a motel again?”
“Because Trevor set our apartment on fire, and we couldn’t stay-,”
The lawyer held his hand up, cutting Mitch off for a second time. “Wait, if my client set fire to your apartment, why didn’t you report that incident to the police?”
