Page 113 of The Casting Couch

I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat.The kind that’s made of gratitude and guilt and longing all knotted together.

Brooke tapped her pen against the clipboard thoughtfully.“The man you… took down?He’s being charged.Not just for what happened with you and Nico.Turns out there’s a long list of laws he’s broken.So… you weren’t wrong.”

I exhaled slowly, a tiny crack of relief working its way into the crushing weight on my chest.

“So does that mean I’m getting out?”I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Brooke shook her head.“Not yet.I’m recommending to the board that your time be kept short, considering the circumstances.It’s the best I can do.”

I rubbed my eyes, trying to chase away the sting behind them.“Why am I even in here?I stopped a predator.Doesn’t that count for something?”

“It does,” she breathed.“To me.Probably to the board too.But the law doesn’t bend just because someone did the right thing for the wrong reason.Violence—any violence—violates your parole.I’m sorry, Bradley.”

My chest ached.Not from panic, but from the deep, bitter disappointment of knowing that sometimes doing the right thing still comes at a cost.I leaned back, head thudding gently against the cinderblock wall.The cold of it seeped through my shirt, a cruel reminder of where I was.

But still… Nico loved me.

I clung to that fiercely.Like a secret.Like armor.I pictured his smile, the sound of his laugh when he was really laughing, full-body and unfiltered.I pictured his eyes when he looked at me—really looked.That softness, that spark.

He saw something in me I hadn’t even seen in myself.Not yet.But I wanted to.

I wanted to earn it.

So I let the cold sink in.Let the cell do what it was going to do.But I wouldn’t let it hollow me out.

Because for the first time in what felt like forever, I had something waiting on the other side of this.

Someone.

And that made all the difference.

* * *

The clink of my handcuffs echoed with every step as the guards led me into the courtroom.My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat.This was it.The sentencing.The moment I’d find out how much longer I was going to be locked away from everything I’d clawed my way back to.

The courtroom was colder than I remembered—air-conditioned within an inch of its life, sterile and humming.Pale wood paneling, rows of wooden pews for an audience I didn’t think I had, and fluorescent lights buzzing with bureaucratic indifference.It was full but quiet.Uncomfortably quiet.The kind of quiet that pressed against your ears like water pressure.

I was guided to the defense table, cuffs tight around my wrists, and sat beside my court-appointed attorney—a tired-looking woman with a salt-and-pepper pixie cut and a pile of folders in front of her.She gave me a brief nod.We’d met only once, briefly.She’d said my case was “complicated but not unwinnable,” which inspired about as much confidence as a parachute made of tulle.

The judge entered, an older Black woman with a commanding presence and reading glasses perched low on her nose.Her expression was unreadable, like she’d seen a thousand Bradleys before and wasn’t particularly impressed.I couldn’t blame her.

“All rise,” the bailiff said, voice booming.

We stood.I tried to keep my breathing steady, but my pulse was sprinting laps.The judge sat.We sat.I stared straight ahead, bracing for the worst.

And then I heard a shuffle in the gallery behind me.

I turned just enough to glance over my shoulder.My heart stuttered.

Nico.

He was there.

Not just there—he was watching me with those wild blue eyes that had once made me feel like the entire world had color again.He looked like he hadn’t slept.Like he’d run straight here from something important.And he wasn’t alone.

Jack, Liam, Petyr, Dimitri.Nessa, in a too-loud leopard-print blazer.Laura, arms crossed, chin up.Moira, big hair and bigger sunglasses, already tearing up behind them.

All of them.They were here.

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