Page 125 of That Girl is Trouble

But this? The gunshot, his body dropping. He’s too far away. He’s alone. His heart stops and I’m not there to hold his hand.

It’s like I died too.

33

Two months later

Knee bouncing, I twist my fingers in my lap. Graves sits too close. Maybe he thinks it’ll offer me some semblance of comfort, but all it does is make the space feel tighter.

I wore black. Black dress under my black leather jacket. Black tights because Triss said I shouldn’t show up at a place like this in the middle of winter with my legs bare. Graves didn’t bother dressing nice. He sits wide legged beside me, arms stretched out on the back of the bench, Sinner cut draped over a black hoody, hard look on his bearded face. At least he combed his hair. His man bun has no fly aways today.

“You could have at least worn something with a collar,” I mutter to him, voice low.

Not looking at me, he whispers, “I’ll tell you what I told your sister. What I wear ain’t gonna change shit.” He glances over at me, taking in all the black, and smirks. “You look like you’re about ready for a funeral.”

“Might as well be.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. This is the best possible outcome.”

I purse my lips. He’s right, in a way. That night, I thought the worst. The gunshot, his body falling to the ground. The absolute devastation that ran through my body. Axe was dead, fucking gone. And I was paralyzed with grief.

Decker fired the shot, and according to Graves, it’s what saved Axe’s life.

Those cops were out for blood. Sinner blood. And walking up to that scene made that all the more enticing. The leader of the Soldiers of Sin, blood-covered, gun in hand, burning building behind him. It would have been easy to justify it, killing him. Death by cop. Vic Rossi had his claws deep in the South Bay PD. And the only reason Axe is still breathing is because Decker took the shot that put him down, aiming for his shoulder instead of his head.

Graves slaps my knee and stops my bouncing. “Will you relax?” he whispers.

I grit my teeth, readying a retort, when my sister’s voice booms across the room.

“Your honour, this is ridiculous. The Crown has completely failed to provide any evidence to support their claims against my client. I move for a dismissal of all charges.”

The prosecutor dips his head back and barks out a laugh. “Your client was found covered in blood and in the presence of three dead bodies. The weapon responsible for at least one of those deaths was in hand. I think that’s evidence in itself.”

She shrugs. “This isn’t a murder trial.”

“This isn’t a trial at all, Ms. Danforth,” the judge says coolly as he scrubs his hand over his grey-white goatee. “It’s simply a hearing for the Crown to present their evidence against Mr. Donovan. A fact in which you both seem to be confused about. Instead of using this time productively, you’ve subjected me to a rather unpleasant pissing match for close to twenty minutes. It’s no longer amusing. Mr. Radley, get on with it.”

“Thank you, Judge Winden,” Radley goads. He slips his hands into his suit pockets and smiles. “As I was saying, not only was Mr. Donovan found in possession of an illegal firearm, in the presence of three deceased—”

“Not a murder trial,” Triss maintains.

“—but he pointed said firearm at four police officers.”

“My client is also not being charged with attempted murder. Or assault.”

“His fingerprints are on the weapon,” Radley says. “Statements from three of the four officers—”

“Only three?” Judge Winden asks.

The smile on Radley’s face falters. “Well, uh. All four officers corroborated their stories. Unfortunately, it would seem one of the deceased, a”—he leans over a stack of paperwork in front of him, as if checking for a name—“Mr. Vic Rossi, had been making regular payments to one of the officers. He’s been put on administrative leave until that’s investigated further. The Crown deems his statement unreliable.”

Triss scoffs. “Unreliable? Your honour, Mr. Donovan was abducted and tortured by Mr. Rossi, who then tried to light him on fire. By the time he escaped, he was gravely injured and concussed, as you will note in the medical records I’ve provided the court.”

My eyes snap to Axe. His shoulders are tense, jaw clenched. His hair is a little longer than usual, the scruff on his jaw a little thicker, having been locked up for the last two months. Triss said they set his bail unreasonably high, but given who he is, it wasn’t unexpected. It’s just been… hard. His absence, his bed empty, no heartbeat in my ear to lull me to sleep. I didn’t get enough time with him like that, and now the only moments we get are the monitored kind—him in handcuffs and me across a table. No touching.

“My client feared for his life,” Triss continues. “The fact that one of the armed police officers attempting to apprehend him was on his captor’s payroll only exacerbated that fear. Mr. Donovan is sorry he pointed a gun at those officers, but he is a victim here. Let’s remember that.”

Mr. Radley shakes his head. “If that’s your defence, then so be it, but my evidence is not lacking. Regardless of his state of mind, he was in possession of an illegal firearm and he pointed it in a threatening manner at four peace officers. That is a crime. An indictable one.”

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