Page 129 of Ruthless

Aeacus frowned. "You understand that the penalty for killing a director is death? Your confession guarantees your execution."

I smiled, tasting copper as my split lip cracked open again. "If you've already written the ending to this little play, why waste everyone's time?" I rattled my shackled hands toward the theatrical chamber. "Skip to the finale. One bullet, back of the skull, cremation by noon. We all know the drill."

"The Tribunal process must be observed," Minos replied. "Even for those who confess. Your motivations and the circumstances must be examined before a sentence is passed."

Of course. The Pantheon loved its rituals, its traditions. Never mind that those same traditions had allowed Prometheus to abuse children with impunity for decades. Fucking theater, all of it.

"I have representation," I said, the words feeling strange in my mouth. Assassins didn't get lawyers. We got bullets.

The unexpected statement caused another stir among the observers. I couldn't see Vincent yet, but I knew he was there somewhere, preparing to make his case. The thought of him gave me strength, a warm certainty beneath the cold dread of my situation.

"This is most irregular," Hera called from her screen, her Russian accent sharp with disapproval. "The accused traditionally speaks in their own defense."

"Yet nothing in the Charter forbids representation," I countered. "Article seventeen, paragraph three: 'The accused may present evidence and testimony in any manner deemed appropriate by theTribunal.'"

I had Lo to thank for that bit of research. Who knew his exceptional skill at finding legal loopholes extended beyond avoiding speeding tickets and tax evasion?

The Tribunal conferred among themselves, their screens briefly switching to a private channel as they discussed. Finally, Minos's screen brightened again.

"The Tribunal will allow representation. Who speaks for Luka Aleksandar?"

The bronze doors opened again. Vincent strode in, shoulders squared and chin lifted, radiating a confidence I'd never seen before. Gone was the slightly rumpled therapist with soft sweaters and gentle eyes. This Vincent moved like a predator, calculating and purposeful, the charcoal suit hugging his frame like armor. Beside him walked Lo, uncharacteristically serious in simple black attire that somehow made him look more dangerous than his usual flamboyance.

My heart stuttered in my chest at the sight of Vincent. It had been three days since I'd seen him, three days of isolation in Tartarus with nothing but my thoughts and regrets for company. He looked tired but unbroken, determination written in every line of his body.

What have you done to yourself for me, doc?The thought brought equal measures of gratitude and guilt.

"Dr. Vincent Matthews and Lorenzo Vasquez will speak for the accused," Vincent announced, his voice carrying clearly across the chamber.

Lo's full name sounded strange. I'd never heard anyone use it, not even him. He caught my eye and winked, as if reading my thoughts.

"Dr. Matthews is not a member of the Pantheon," Rhadamanthys observed, his dark eyes gleaming with interest as they swept over Vincent appreciatively. "This is unprecedented."

"So is a director sexually abusing his assets and grooming a child to become his wife," Vincent replied, his professional veneer cracking as his voice rose. His hand trembled slightly before he clenched it into a fist. "Yet here we are."

A shocked silence crashed over the chamber like a wave. The collective gasp from the observers tickled my ears, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as their perfect composure cracked like thin ice.

Minos recovered first. "Those are serious allegations that have no bearing on the matter at hand."

Vincent's careful demeanor slipped further. "No bearing?" He laughed, a harsh sound I'd never heard from him before. "With respect, Judge Minos, that's complete bullshit."

Lo's eyes widened slightly. This wasn't the script they'd practiced.

Vincent caught himself, inhaling sharply through his nose. "Forgive me," he said, not sounding sorry at all. He moved to stand beside me, his shoulder almost touching mine. I could smell his cologne, that familiar scent that had become synonymous with safety in my mind. "We're not here to dispute that Luka killed Prometheus. We're here to prove his actions were justified by Prometheus's violations of the Pantheon's most sacred codes."

Another wave of whispers swept through the chamber. The Directors shifted on their platform, clearly taken aback.

"Such violations, if proven, do not negate the crime of killing a director," Dionysus noted from his screen, his smooth voice carrying a hint of skepticism.

Hades leaned forward on his screen, his powerful frame commanding attention even digitally as he studied me. "But perhaps they might mitigate the sentence," he said, his deep voice resonating through the chamber's speakers. "The Pantheon's traditions exist fora reason, even those we have long neglected." He shared a brief glance with Rhadamanthys, who nodded.

"That is precisely our argument," Lo interjected, stepping forward to stand on my other side. "The evidence we present will demonstrate that Prometheus's actions weren't merely personal misconduct, but systemic violations that threatened the very foundation of the Pantheon's operations."

Dionysus leaned forward on his screen. "And why should the Tribunal consider such a claim? Luka Aleksandar has demonstrated himself to be unstable, disobedient, and dangerously unpredictable."

"Because the alternative is far worse for the Pantheon," Vincent replied. He moved to the center of the mosaic. "Before I present our case, I request permission to call a witness who can testify to the conduct that led to this killing."

The Tribunal conferred again, the three screens briefly going dark. I studied their interfaces, trying to gauge which way they were leaning when they returned. Minos seemed thoughtful, Rhadamanthys intrigued, while Aeacus remained utterly impassive.

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