Old habits die hard, and while the judge began her standard comments about procedure and decorum, I scanned the courtroom—not for exits, but for threats. The federal prosecutor sat rigidly at his table, surrounded by three assistants. Behind them, a cluster of men in identical dark suits watched.
The judge began the trial. "The charges before us today are as follows—"
Before she could complete her sentence, the double doors at the rear of the courtroom burst open with enough force that the hinges protested. Every head snapped toward the rear.
A U.S. Marshal strode down the center aisle. The man's face betrayed nothing as he approached the bench, a sealed envelope clutched in his gloved hand.
He spoke in a firm, respectful voice. "Your Honor, I apologize for the interruption. I received instructions to deliver this directly to you, and the message within is to take effect immediately."
The judge raised an eyebrow while she accepted the envelope. She broke the seal, unfolded the document inside, and began to read.
I thought I saw confusion spread across her face. Her eyes tracked back to the top of the page as she reread the document.
I glanced at Alex. He was already looking at me.
The judge folded the document and looked down at us. "This is an unprecedented moment. By executive order, this proceeding will cease."
The courtroom fell into complete silence before the judge continued. "A full presidential pardon has been issued for all four defendants, effective immediately."
First, a series of gasps rippled through the crowd, and then the courtroom erupted in bedlam. Cameras flashed, and reporters leaped to their feet.
One of the reporters shouted questions at the judge. She hammered her gavel against the bench in a futile attempt to restore order.
I froze, unable to process the words that had just changed the trajectory of our lives. I waited for someone to reveal the trick. Or, surely, there was fine print. Nothing in recent days had prepared me for mercy.
Our attorney clutched my shoulder. "It's real. I thought this might happen. We heard rumblings minutes before arriving in court. The President has expressed absolute opposition to Asphodel, and the details are out in the open.
I turned toward Alex. He was already on his feet, trying to move toward me. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears.
The chaos around us faded to white noise. I buried my face against his neck, breathing him in.
Our guards froze, uncertain what to do as we pressed up against each other.
The judge cleared her throat. "Unshackle them. These men are free to go."
The marshal closest to me fumbled with his keys. I reluctantly stepped back from Alex, just enough to extend my wrists. The cuffs fell away with a click. I rubbed the raw skin beneath, sensation flooding back in painful waves.
Alex winced as they removed his restraints, with his slender wrists marked with red welts. I reached out, and we held each other in a proper hug.
The courtroom continued to churn with activity. Reporters shouted into their phones. The prosecutor gathered his papers with fury showing in red blotches on his face.
Miles stood beside Marcus. My older brother caught my eye and shook his head in wonder.
A rare crooked smile spread across his face. "So, we're not going to prison." The expression shaved years off his features, reminding me of the brother who'd taught me how to ride a bike a lifetime ago.
Miles simply whispered, "Fuck."
Alex looked at the three of us. "What happens now?"
I had no answer. We had been living moment to moment for days. The future now stretching before us seemed endless.
Matthew, Mom, and James pushed through the crowd.
Matthew reached us first, pulling Miles into a hug, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Mom was right behind him, pressing her hands to my cheeks like she needed to convince herself I was real.
Then came James—eyes wet, lips tight, his arm reaching for Marcus. No words passed between them—only a rough pull into a massive hug. Marcus clung back fiercely.
James congratulated our brother. "You held it together."
