Page 132 of Ruthless

As Cerberus operatives moved to escort us from the chamber, Vincent broke away from his guard, closing the distance between us in three quick strides. The guards tensed, hands dropping to their weapons, but Vincent ignored them. He grasped my chained handsbetween his, squeezing so tightly I could feel his pulse racing through his fingertips.

"I didn't get to say half of what I planned," he whispered frantically. "There was more evidence about Milan, about the violations—"

"Enough," I murmured, leaning my forehead against his for a fleeting second. "You were fucking magnificent."

His eyes widened at the unexpected praise, then softened. The guard's hand closed around his shoulder, pulling him back. Vincent resisted fiercely, his body going rigid as he fought against the guard's grip.

Something shattered inside my chest at the sight. Twenty-six years of people letting me go, turning away, stepping back when Prometheus demanded it. Twenty-six years of no one fighting to stay. Until now. Until Vincent.

The simple act of resistance—of someone physically struggling to remain at my side—hit me harder than any bullet ever had. My throat closed, vision blurring as Vincent twisted against the guard's hold just long enough to whisper, "I won't let them take you from me. Not after everything."

As they pulled us apart, I caught a glimpse of Ana being led through a separate door. Our eyes met across the chamber. She mouthed what looked like "I'm sorry" before the guards ushered her away.

The guard behind me shoved me forward, impatient. As they dragged us in opposite directions, Vincent's eyes never left mine. In that moment, something profound passed between us, deeper than words or touch. A promise. A vow.

For the first time since I'd been brought to Tartarus, hope flickered in my chest. Not because I believed in the Tribunal's mercy, but because I believed in Vincent. In the last few weeks, I'd watched himtransform from a cautious therapist to someone willing to fight with teeth and claws for what mattered. For me.

His eyes held a message only I could read: If they try to separate us, I'll burn the entire fucking Pantheon to the ground.

My answering smile must have unnerved my guards, because their grips tightened. But it wasn't meant for them. It was for Vincent, for the promise between us, for the knowledge that finally someone was fighting for me instead of against me.

And that was worth everything, no matter what theTribunal decided.

Three hours.

I'd paced the small holding room for three hours since they dragged me away from Luka. My shoes carved an invisible path in the polished marble floor, back and forth, eight steps each way before turning. The Cerberus operatives stationed at the door watched impassively, their faces blank behind tactical visors.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor, doc," Lo remarked from where he lounged against the wall, his casual posture contradicting the tension radiating from his shoulders. "They'll make you pay for repairs."

"How can you be so calm?" I demanded, raking my fingers through my hair for the thousandth time. "They could be sentencing him to death right now."

Lo's eyes hardened momentarily, his carefully constructed nonchalance slipping. "Because falling apart won't help him. And neither will wearing yourself out before we even know what we're dealing with."

He was right, of course. But knowing that didn't stop the panic clawing at my chest or the nausea churning in my stomach. Every minute that passed could be Luka's last. The man I loved might be bleeding out on cold marble while I paced uselessly in this glorified holding cell. The thought alone nearly doubled me over.

I forced myself to sit, pressing my palms flat against my thighs. "Do you think they believed us? About Prometheus killing Apollo?"

"Hard to say." Lo's fingers drummed an erratic pattern against his thigh. "The evidence is solid, but the Tribunal doesn't exactly advertise their thought process."

I opened my mouth to respond when the door swung open. A female Cerberus operative stood in the threshold, her expression cold as winter stone.

"The Tribunal has reached its verdict," she announced. "You will return now."

My heart slammed into my throat. This was it. The moment that would decide everything.

"Any chance of a hint?" Lo asked the operative with a wink. "Just a little preview? Thumbs up, thumbs down?"

She stared at him blankly. "Follow me."

As we moved through the underground corridors, I strained to glimpse Luka, but the passages remained empty except for our small group and our guards. Had they already taken him to the chamber? Or worse, had they carried out a sentence without waiting for us to return?

The thought froze my blood. I lengthened my stride, nearly overtaking our escort before a guard stepped into my path, forcing me to slow down.

"Easy, doc," Lo murmured, falling into step beside me. "If they'd executed him, they wouldn't bother bringing us back."

The logic made sense, but it did nothing to calm the frantic drumming of my heart. After everything we'd survived—after finding Ana, after exposing Prometheus's crimes, after Luka had finally begun to heal—I couldn't bear losing him now.

We entered the Tribunal Chamber through a side entrance I hadn't noticed before. My heart hammered against my ribs so violently I thought I might be sick, every cell in my body screaming in protest at the possibility that I might be too late, that I might walk in to find Luka already gone, his body cooling on the marble floor.

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