Throne of Truth

Such generic, everyday questions...apart from the last one.

Greg delivered his answers in fluid, concise ways.

I had to hand it to him. He sounded sane and came across as any hard working individual and not a greed-hungry psychopath.

“Yes, I did. Still do.”

“Yes, we did many things together. Picnics, bike rides, you name it.”

“Of course, Joe Charlston and I go way back.”

“No, I did not. That wasn’t my intention at all.”

Time ticked onward. Jurors yawned a little.

Elle’s eyes seared me from behind, and Larry didn’t move in his chair.

The courtroom had turned from an explosive kettle yesterday to a stagnant pressure cooker today.

Tension gathered the longer Greg blah-blahed on the stand. I felt sick just waiting for that one question. That simple phrase guaranteed to launch him into a tirade destined to send me to hell. ‘Did Penn Everett try to kill you?’

I thought I wanted to get this farce over with. But being this close to a guilty verdict—again for something I didn’t do—turned my heart to icy stone, trying to protect itself before the inevitable happened.

Already my ears rang with the jurors’ conclusions.

Guilty.

Guilty.

Guilty.

I froze with visions of the judge bringing his fist down with a life sentence without parole.

Sweat trickled down my back the longer Greg and his lawyer enjoyed their question-answer dance.

And then, the question arrived, blaring like a freight train, smoking with authority ready to steal any happiness I might’ve earned.

His red-lipped lawyer muttered, “And do you, Greg Hobson, stand by your statement that Penn Everett went to that cabin to kill you? That you had reason to believe he’d plotted your murder and intended to carry it out?”

Greg glanced at me then Larry. His eyes flew behind me, no doubt looking at Elle.

The sound of fabric shifting on seats itched my ears. The entire courtroom didn’t breathe.

I desperately wanted to turn around, to grab Elle’s hand and thank her for everything she did and apologize that it wasn’t enough. That my past had ruined everything anyway.

But I couldn’t tear my eyes off Greg. Some masochist part of me needed to sear this moment into my brain forever. I’d use it as fuel in any prison brawls I had to win. I’d punch and punch and punch some asshole and pretend it was Greg.

I almost stood up and held my hands out for the cuffs, tasting the inevitable.

But something fucking miraculous happened.

Greg leaned back, shrugging like a toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “You know what? I’ve had time to reflect on what happened that night, and I think I might have got it wrong.”

Fucking what?

My chair legs screeched as I scooted forward. Did that really just happen? I needed a replay. To press rewind and see if my brain had fritzed or if this was real life.

Greg relaxed into his tale, bringing his leg up to cock over his knee as if he spoke to his brethren at a bar not a jury in court. “I didn’t lie—I honestly thought he did want to kill me—but I’m a reformed man and recently been using the downtime to truly assess what I thought and what was real.”

Christ, he had the jury eating out of his goddamn hand.

Everyone sat up, the jaded glaze fading from their eyes as if grateful he was about to tell them exactly what they should believe in so this sham could be over, and they could go back to their families.

Greg sighed heavily, acting the perfect grieving witness. “I won’t deny that Penn Everett hurt me. Shit, I still have the bruises to prove it, and he did put me in the hospital—those are facts.” He smiled at the jury. “My ribs were cracked and larynx bruised. The doctors said I was lucky to still have a voice box.”

I rolled my eyes.

Fucking, please.

“But Everett had a point yesterday. I would’ve gone crazy over any dude touching my girl and thrown a few punches, too.”

My mouth hung open.

Did I just hear that correctly?

Wait, that can’t have just happened?

I’m in an alternative universe.

I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone.

Elle’s softest gasp sounded behind me, dotting my skin with goosebumps.

Larry sat ramrod straight, his fingernails scratching into the table.

I was glad I wasn’t the only one fucking stupefied by this change of events.

What the hell is going on here?

“He got it wrong that I was raping her.” Greg’s face turned black with familiar greed then lightened to innocent once again. “We were role playing.” He leaned into the jury as if it was a secret between them. “Ms. Charlston likes a bit of bondage, if you know what—”

“Stay on topic, Mr. Hobson,” the judge muttered.

Greg held up his hands. “Hey, kink isn’t on trial here, is it?”

A juror or two snickered.

Judge Blake scowled. “Continue without the sexual references that may or may not be true.”

Greg nodded. “Yes, your honor.” Sitting tall, he added, “Penn was jealous of Elle and me. Elle was going to break it off with him to be with me—”

Another noise came from behind me. A small keen like a broken kitten. The chemistry between Elle and I exploded as I felt her tension, endured her panic.

“Overruled.” Larry stood. “We have multiple witness statements from Ms. Charlston's bodyguard, father, and other staff that state that is incorrect. Ms. Charlston and Mr. Everett were engaged to be married.” Larry shot me a quick smile. “They still are.”