Chapter 50 Courtroom

Chapter 50 Courtroom
The air outside the courthouse feels sharper than it should, not colder exactly, but defined in a way that makes everything seem a little too clear as I step out of the car and let my feet settle against the pavement.
For a second, I focus on that.
Solid. Real.
Enough.
Movement carries around us in steady lines, people crossing the entrance, voices low, footsteps constant, and none of it is directed at us, even though the awareness lingers anyway, quiet and unspoken.
Josh comes around the front of the car without hesitation, already scanning past me instead of at me, while Mike steps out on the other side and adjusts his jacket with a motion that looks routine but isn’t.
Jake falls in behind us, quieter than usual, his gaze moving in quick passes that don’t linger, while Drew stays close enough at my side that I don’t have to check to know he’s there.
Patrick closes the door last.
The sound is soft, but it lands.
“Inside,” he says, and no one questions it.
We move together, the steps stretching wide beneath us as we climb, each one measured without being slow, deliberate without drawing attention, like the pace has already been set and we’re just following it.
Halfway up, Mike’s movement shifts slightly.
It’s small, but it changes something.
“What,” Josh asks without looking at him.
Mike keeps his gaze forward. “Black SUV. Across the street.”
I don’t turn.
Jake’s voice comes quieter, almost casual. “Same one?”
“Maybe.”
That’s enough.
The awareness tightens beneath the surface, not breaking stride, just settling in deeper as Patrick’s voice cuts through it, calm and even.
“Keep moving.”
We do.
The doors open before we reach them, cool air replacing the edge of the morning immediately, and inside everything softens in a way that feels controlled, carpet muting footsteps, voices dropping without needing to be told.
People sit along the walls in small clusters, some talking, some not, all of them waiting for something that hasn’t happened yet, and we pass through without slowing, without being stopped, without needing to announce ourselves.
We’re expected.
That lands.
Josh takes the lead down the hall, his pace steady, and the rest of us fall into place without thinking, Mike shifting slightly ahead, Jake hanging back just enough to cover the space behind us, Drew’s shoulder brushing mine once as we turn the corner.
Patrick walks beside me.
Not in front.
Not behind.
Beside.
“Still good?” he asks, low enough that it stays between us.
“Yes.”
He studies me for a second, just long enough to confirm it, then nods and looks ahead again.
The courtroom doors are already open when we reach them.
That feels intentional, too.
Josh slows just enough for the room to come into view before stepping through, and the shift is immediate. The second we cross inside, the space opens up with high ceilings and hard lines that carry sound even when no one is speaking.
People are already seated, some turning as we enter, most not, but the attention is there anyway, quiet and constant in a way that settles along my shoulders without needing to be acknowledged.
Mike moves slightly closer.
Jake stops just behind my shoulder.
Drew’s hand brushes mine once, then falls away like it didn’t happen.
Patrick doesn’t touch me.
He doesn’t need to.
The awareness is constant.
Josh leads us toward the front, direct and controlled, and no one blocks the path as we take our seats, the bench cold beneath me as I sit, solid and grounded in a way that lets everything else settle into place.
Voices murmur across the room, papers shifting, chairs adjusting, all of it normal in a way that doesn’t feel normal anymore.
Mike leans slightly toward Josh, his voice barely above a breath. “SUVs are still there.”
Josh doesn’t look back. “We deal with it after.”
After.
The word lingers without needing more.
Jake exhales quietly behind me, controlled but present, while Drew’s knee presses lightly against mine, steady and grounding in a way that doesn’t draw attention but still holds.
Patrick remains completely still beside me.
Not rigid.
Controlled.
Like he’s already accounted for everything in the room.
“Eyes forward,” he says quietly.
Not a command.
Still followed.
I adjust slightly, my focus narrowing as I look ahead, the bench, the space where everything will happen, the side door still closed for now.
The room settles.
Not silent.
Waiting.
Something shifts at the edge of my awareness, a pause that doesn’t match the rest of the room, and I don’t turn my head because I don’t need to.
I feel it.
Someone watching.
Not passing.
Not curious.
Focused.
It lingers just long enough to register before it disappears, like it was never there at all.
My fingers curl slightly against my palm.
Drew notices.
He doesn’t say anything.
Josh’s voice comes quietly, steadily. “Em.”
“I’m fine.”
The words land clean, even if everything under them is tighter than it was a minute ago.
Mike shifts again.
Jake stills.
Patrick doesn’t move at all.
That’s how I know he felt it too.
The side door opens.
The sound pulls the room tighter, just slightly, but enough to matter as everything dips and settles into something more focused.
Josh straightens.
Mike goes still.
Jake’s attention locks forward.
Drew’s knee presses more firmly against mine.
Patrick’s voice stays low.
“Stay with us.”
Not new.
Still lands.
I don’t look away.
“I am.”
And this time, there isn’t even a second of hesitation in it.