Alex stepped into the inquiry chamber, the weight of the place pressing down before he'd even taken his seat.
The dark mahogany panels stretched up the walls, portraits of past presidents glaring down with the kind of judgment only oil paint could preserve.
Crystal chandeliers spilled golden light over polished tables arranged in a rigid U-shape, as if the room itself had been designed to make the accused feel small.
His eyes went first to William and Brad. They sat opposite him, injuries wrapped and displayed like props.
William shifted his sling a little too carefully, while Brad winced just enough to be seen.
Their pale, nervous expressions carried the right amount of fragility, but to Alex it looked rehearsed... two actors performing victimhood for an audience.
Behind them sat Marcus, flanked by Tyler and Robert. Marcus's gaze met his for a fleeting second, smug and steady, before sliding away.
