Zoe's POV
I had never imagined that justice would smell like polished wood, old paper, and fear.
The courthouse rose above the morning traffic like a monument built for other people's tragedies. Gray stone. Tall windows. Uniformed officers standing at every entrance. Reporters gathered behind barricades with cameras hanging from their necks, their voices blending into a constant murmur that sounded like rain before a storm.
My palms were damp.
I kept rubbing them against the fabric of my trousers, but the moisture returned almost instantly.
"Breathe."
Chloe's voice came softly beside me.
I nodded, though I wasn't sure I was breathing at all.
Garrett walked a step ahead, speaking quietly with Mr. Donovan. Lawyers moved through the entrance with leather briefcases tucked beneath their arms, looking composed in a way that made me feel strangely exposed.
We passed through security.
The metal detector beeped for someone behind us.
A police officer directed them aside.
