Too Late

I stand up, the cuffs digging in to my wrists. I hate that Sloan is going to see me with these on. It’s a little emasculating and I hate for her to see me in any other light than she always has. At least they let me wear a suit today and I don’t have to walk in with that ridiculous standard-issue orange jumpsuit on. Orange is not my color and I know for a fact that this suit is Sloan’s favorite.

“Let’s do this,” I say to Paul. “Piece of fucking cake.”

Paul nods quickly and stands. I can tell he doesn’t like my confidence. He hasn’t liked it since the moment we met. I’m also not sure that he likes me, but I couldn’t give two fucks what he thinks of me. As long as he clears me of these charges, he’ll be my favorite person in the world.

Well...second favorite. So far, Sloan is still in the top spot.

Sure, she’s done a lot of fucking shit to piss me off, but I know it was all thanks to Luke and the lies he told her. I’m sure she’s spent enough time with him now and enough time apart from me to be coming to her senses.

I follow Paul out of the room, quickly flanked by four guards. Two in front and two behind me. A fifth guard opens the door to the courtroom, and as soon as we file through the door, I scan the crowd for her.

I see him first. The cocky fucking bastard, sitting second row, next to his little bitch-friend Dalton. Or Ryan. Whatever the fuck his name is.

Sloan isn’t sitting next to him, though. She’s sitting in the far corner on the back row by herself. I smile at her, but she glances away as soon as her eyes land on mine.

There’s one of two reasons why she isn’t sitting with Luke. She either figured out his bullshit by now and wants nothing to do with him. Or they were advised not to sit together in the courtroom, thanks to their little indiscretion behind my fucking back.

I’ll go with the former.

I take my seat, but I keep my eyes on Sloan. Doing so means I’m turned sideways in my chair, not facing where the judge will sit. But that’s fine. I’m not looking away from her until she makes eye contact with me again.

“All rise for the honorable Judge Isaac,” a guard says.

I rise, but I don’t stop staring at Sloan. I can hear doors open and steps being taken, but I’m not going to fucking look at that man until she makes eye contact with me. She’s wearing a new dress. A black one. It looks like she’s going to a fucking funeral. Her hair is pulled back and up in a twist. She looks sophisticated. Fucking sexy as hell. My dick twitches in my pants and I wish I could ask for a bathroom break and take her to a hallway and pull her dress up around her waist and press my fucking face between her legs.

I miss the way she smells. I miss how soft her thighs are against my cheeks. I miss the way her whole body tightens up when I shove my dick inside her.

“You may be seated.”

I sit.

Fucking hell, it’s hot in here.

I hear the judge start talking at the same time Paul slides me a piece of paper. I glance down at it long enough to read it.

“You need to face forward out of respect for the judge.”

I laugh under my breath and grab the pen.

“Fuck the judge and fuck you, Paul,” I write. I slide the note back to him and return my eyes to Sloan.

She’s looking at me now. Her eyes are locked with mine and her lips are pressed together real tight like she’s nervous. I like that. I love it, actually. She’s feeling something while she looks at me and I can tell she isn’t thinking about Luke at all right now.

“I love you,” I mouth.

Sloan’s eyes drop to my mouth and I smile at her. Then that stupid fuck—that ridiculous fuckface motherfucking stupid fuck—stands up and walks to the back of the courtroom, right to where she’s seated. He makes his way down the aisle until he plants himself right next to her. He wraps his arm around my fucking fiancée and she squeezes her eyes shut and buries her face against his shoulder, like she’s relieved he moved to be next to her. My eyes meet his—the fucking motherfucking fuckface brainwashing fuck—and he leans forward, blocking my view of her. He stares at me, hard, like he’s threatening me to turn around.

I want to kill him. For a few seconds, I try to think of ways I can do that.

Grab the security guard’s gun and shoot him.

Run to the back of the courtroom and break his fucking neck.

Grab the pen that I just wrote Paul the note with and shove it right in his carotid artery.

But I don’t. I refrain, because I’m pretty sure this case is going to go in my favor and I’ll be out on bail until the next hearing.

His murder can wait.

It needs to be planned out with more precision and preferably without the eyes of a judge on me.

I decide to turn around. Not because Luke threatens me to do so with that fucking look in his eyes—but because I need to convince this judge that he’s making the right decision when he throws this case out due to self-defense.

I try to follow along as both lawyers stand up and speak. I try to follow along as the judge responds to each of them. I smile when the judge looks at me. But inside, my blood is boiling. Knowing Luke is back there, sitting next to her, holding her. That means she’s probably been with him at night while I’m forced to fuck my own hand, alone in my jail cell. It also means he’s probably been inside her. His fingers, his dick, his fucking tongue. Tasting and taking what’s mine. What was supposed to be only mine.

My pulse is raging when the judge’s gavel comes down. “This court session is adjourned.”

I breathe in slowly through my nose. I release it when I look at Paul. “What the fuck just happened?”

He makes a face like I’m supposed to keep my voice low. My eyes flick to the back of the room when I hear Sloan’s cry. Luke is helping her stand, but her arms are around him and she’s crying. Sobbing.

She’s upset. That can’t be good news for me. She’s upset for me.

“Is this going to trial?” I ask Paul. “You said this wasn’t going to fucking trial!”

Paul shakes his skinny little head. “The judge decided not to take it to trail,” Paul says. “Which means your claims of self-defense were upheld. You’ll have to go back to your cell, but only until I can bail you out on the other charges pending against you. It may be four or five hours, but I’ll come get you once your bail is posted.”

I glance back at Sloan, watching as Luke helps her out of the courtroom. Why is she crying, then? If the charges against me were dismissed, why is she crying?

“How long do you think it takes someone to recover from being completely fucking brainwashed?”

Paul looks at me. “What are you talking about, Asa?”

“Like how much therapy do you think a person will need in order to get over being brainwashed? A few weeks? Months? More than a year?”

Paul stares at me a moment and then shakes his head. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Asa.”

He stands, so I stand. The same four guards escort me out of the courtroom.

I should probably be fucking ecstatic that this case just got thrown out. The next one should be even easier, because Paul says Luke’s department isn’t pressing charges. So as long as I cut a plea deal, undergo some psychiatric treatment, and give them the information they want on Jon and Kevin, I more than likely won’t be charged with shooting Luke in the fucking chest.

That says a lot about our court system. I fucking come within six centimeters of killing a guy in cold blood, and I walk free because I tattle and claim a mental illness?

I fucking love the USA.

It almost feels like all my efforts have gone to waste, though. Since the moment I started growing suspicious that someone was brainwashing Sloan, I’ve been concocting this elaborate scheme and I’m not even really getting credit for it. I had to deny having anything to do with the fake raid, which was really hard for my ego. I’m fucking proud of that and I want to brag to the world that I pulled it off flawlessly.

Not to mention the fucking schizophrenia shit. Shower with your clothes on, check the lock on a door a few times, and people think you’re losing your fucking mind. I had to do it, though. I know myself and I knew if I found out my suspicions were true and Sloan was fucking someone else, that I would more than likely lose my shit and murder the guy. I can’t very well murder someone and run the risk of being tried as a mentally competent adult. I had to have a back-up plan so I wouldn’t rot in fucking prison like my father did most of his life.

Maybe it wasn’t a complete waste. I at least have the “schizophrenia” to fall back on if I ever need it. Which I probably will eventually, because Luke is still breathing.

When I make it back to my cell, I fall down onto the bed as the bars clank shut behind me. I can’t help but smile.

This whole thing is turning out so beautiful. Sloan will take some time to come around again, but I know she will. Especially once Luke is out of the picture for good. I’ll have to somehow look past the fact that Luke has been inside her. I can fuck him out of her, though. I’ll just have to fuck her a whole goddamn bunch and in every position until I no longer think about him when I look at her.

“What are you so fucking happy about?” a voice says.