Page 62 of The Knight

"You sound so sure."

"My mom tried to expose a member of the Syndicate before she died." He grimaces. "She thought that since the cancer was taking her either way, there was no downside. So she went after the pharmaceutical CEO who fought off the FDA and nearly killed her with a drug that's since been banned. Needless to say, her evidence was written off. It wasn't enough for the authorities to do anything. It never is."

Heart beating, I point out, "I'm about to do something when I testify against Hass."

"Ah, but he's Syndicate lite. A little league teenage boy caught with his pants down making a very stupid mistake. He hit one of their own. It's different."

"I'm not one of their own."

Reaching over, Tanner ruffles my hair, a light smile on his face. "You'll be safe."

"If I'm not?" This close, I can see the golden brown in his eyes, and I feel the heat of his hand. It wasn't that long ago that the same hand was traveling up my skirt as he pushed me up against a bookshelf. I wonder if he felt anything when he did it. I wonder if he feels anything now. "What will happen if they come for me?"

"Then I'll threaten my dad with public exposure of his affair, and make him pull the strings to let you loose." There's a fierce expression in Tanner's eyes even as his mouth curves up into an insolent quirk. "What's he gonna do, disown me?"

"That's the worst that can happen."

After I say the words, though, I wonder if they're true.

There's so many worse possibilities that I can't even imagine what will happen next.

Chapter 25

Sitting in the back seat of an SUV, staring out the tinted windows, I wonder how it is that my life has come to this. I never thought that I'd be testifying in a case like this—or that Georgia would be sitting in the seat next to me, her lips lined in pink gloss, staring at her phone and scrolling through social media comments.

In the front seat, Mrs. Reynolds, the residence director, checks her rearview mirror and pulls over to the courthouse parking lot.

"This is it, girls."

Glancing out the window, I see reporters and get nervous. "The DA said he'd meet us here. Aren't we supposed to have some kind of police escort or something? It's a high profile case."

Georgia rolls her eyes. "Relax, Brenna. You'd think someone put a hit out on you the way you're acting."

"Actually, last semester... nevermind." I doubt reminding her of the very attack on me she lived through a few short months ago will improve Georgia's disposition. Somehow she's only become more self-involved since we went to the cops about that day in the aircraft hanger, her follower count swelling with each sympathetic piece that comes out about the case. "Let's just wait for him to show up. I'm sure it won't be long."

Georgia taps her fingernails on her knees as we wait. At first I think she's just bored, but then I realize she's just as nervous as I am. What we're about to do is a big deal—whether she acts like it or not.

Two teenage girls going up against a golden boy of the Syndicate.

I hope Tanner was right when he said I have nothing to worry about. Somehow I doubt he or any of the Elites will swoop in to save me if things go wrong. Whatever the Syndicate is or isn't, their families are all no doubt involved in the organization, and when it comes to boys like them, blue blood always comes before any other type of alliance. I'm on my own in this, with only the system to rely on.

Thankfully it's not long before the District Attorney shows up, his assistant DA trailing behind him, along with two uniformed men. They shoo the reporters out of the parking lot and close the gate, then have Mrs. Reynolds pull closer to the courthouse and drive into a small private parking garage. Something releases in my chest as the garage door seals behind us, the outside world blocked out along with the early morning sunlight.

The Syndicate may know who I am, or at least strongly suspect it, but I don't want to confirm their beliefs. And I don't want to be sitting near a car window when they decide what to do about me. Maybe I've been watching too many high drama TV shows, but bad things tend to happen to witnesses who go up against shadowy organizations. I'll be lucky if today ends with Hass behind bars and all my blood still inside my body.

"Good to see you bright and early." The DA greets us as we get out of the car. "Hope the reporters outside weren't too much trouble."

Georgia pouts. "I wanted to give an interview."

"As we went over before," the DA's smile grows tight, "it's very important that your testimony not be public untilafterthe FBI is able to track down the source of these human traffickers. I've been told they're very close to cracking the case. Now, if you'll follow me."

He leads us into the courthouse, with its stark white walls and yellow tile floor. I feel a trickle of sweat go down my back despite the unseasonably cool weather; some part of me reached for a blazer this morning to wear while I testify, even though I know there's no reason for me to try to look a certain way. Even with my best clothes on, I still can't hold a candle to Georgia, who's walking beside me in confidence and skinny heels.

The Assistant District Attorney goes over everything again. We'll be giving our testimony to the jury in a closed chamber. No media access, no photographs. Only Hass and the opposing counsel will be there from the other side. As he gives us advice on speaking clearly and overcoming our nerves, we pass by the bathroom doors, and Georgia asks for a chance to go to the bathroom—really, I'm sure, she wants to redo her makeup.

"Go on ahead." The ADA peers down the hall, and the bailiff stands at the end of it. "I'll just escort Brenna the rest of the way, and leave the bailiff with you."

For some reason he and the DA are in a hurry. Maybe they just want us to get to the courtroom and testify quickly; I don't know how all this works. But they lead me down the hallway, their steps long and difficult to keep up with, looking very important in their tailored suits with briefcases in their hands. We head towards a private office with big glass doors, and the ADA offers me a bottle of water.

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