I had decided to call it an early night that night, not wanting to face Scott any more than I had to.

I got it. It was his job to protect me, and he wasn't doing that when he was busy doing me. But if he was mad at himself, then that was his own problem, not mine.

When he didn't want me, sure, it made my chest tighten but I wasn't going to push him, risking what I thought would be further embarrassment. No one made him rush up those stairs after me and pin me against my door. He made that choice–whether good or bad–and he had to live with it.

And for Christ's sake, it was sex. It wasn't like we had killed anyone. And no one had showed up to kill me, so all was fine.

Or so I thought.

Scott was gone by the time I woke up the next morning, and when Alex arrived for his night shift, he showed up with a new partner–Benjamin–a man older than Alex with pale skin and brown hair. He spoke quietly but with surety, and when I asked Alex where Scott was, I was informed that he was working overtime at the bureau getting ready for the trial on Monday, making sure all necessary precautions were in place.

Sure.

Not that I doubted that, but Alex had no idea that Scott was clearly trying to avoid me.

It made my jaw clench and head shake. For the first time since it happened, I actually regretted sleeping with him. What had been such a great moment was squashed and destroyed by the fact that Scott didn't want to even see me anymore.

I should have never made a move. I should have let things be. Sure, he finished it, but I had started it, and clearly that was a mistake. Because whatever it was that seemed to be growing between us was now dead.

The saving grace to it all was that the trial was quickly approaching and this would all be over soon, and I would never have to see him again.

But as the weekend rolled on, there was a constant a sense of dread in my stomach. Reality had finally set in about what would happen Monday morning as Alex explained protocols–from the moment I left this house, until I was on the stand, I would be in a bulletproof vest with the bold FBI letters stitched across it. Before I even arrived to the courthouse, I would change cars, and do so again once I left, making sure that I wasn't being followed. While waiting to give my testimony, there would be several FBI agents escorting me around the courthouse. I would never be alone, not even in the bathroom.

By Sunday night, I was mere hours away from seeing Vine again and being put on the stand. I forced myself to replay the night in the parking garage, and the day at the flee market, remembering exactly what got me into this mess so that I could end it once and for all. I tried to once again find that fire that had burned inside me, the rage towards Vine for ruining my life that helped me hold my head high and my will steel, but as the hours ticked by, my determination was waning.

I briefly wondered if Shelton would be there, but I doubted it. Though I had no idea what he looked like, I assumed the FBI did–but what if they didn't?

What if he sat in court as an unassuming spectator? What if he finally saw the man who was threatening his empire–helping the man that had been trying to take him down since the moment his mother was murdered? Would he try anything? Or just stare me down while I was none the wiser?

I really didn't know much about Shelton, though I knew enough by now that I was going to be challenging a man who had been spending the last three decades building a criminal empire that hadn't been challenged until now.

Way to put a fucking target on my back.

There was still no guarantee that once the trial was over, and Vine was-assuming–found guilty, that I would be able to return to my normal life. There was no promise that just because I finally held up my end of the deal, that I would get the happy-ever-after I so naively believed was waiting for me at the end of this ordeal when I signed my witness statement.

Because at the end of the day, I wasn't playing by the FBI's rules. I was playing by Shelton's.

Tomorrow morning I would take the stand, revealing myself to the world. There was a fair chance that Shelton would come after me, and if that happened, there would be no returning to my normal life. I would be thrown into witness protection, given a new name, a new job, a whole new life where Mitchell Grassi never existed.

I would never see my parents again, or be by my sister's side once she finally got married, or sit on the sidelines and cheer her on as she walked across the stage as Doctor Lydia Grassi. I would miss Mike's child–who was due only two months from now–or any nieces or nephews that would come after. My life would be snatched away, with no chance of ever going back.

And as I lay in bed that night, I can't stop the tears from prickling my eyes. With no one around to be strong for, I let myself be weak. Because once I leave this room, I had to show the world that Vine didn't scare me, that Shelton was nothing but a name, and I, without a single doubt in my mind, would be there to take them down.

Me. Mitchell Coby-Michael Grassi.

But no matter how much I tried to reassure myself that tomorrow would go exactly as Scott had been promising since the day he knocked on my door, that tomorrow would finally bring an end to this living nightmare, I couldn't stop the gnawing fear in my stomach that this was far from over.

-/::\-

My alarm goes off at 4:15, not that it mattered–I had been staring at the white ceiling since two in the morning. I'm not even entirely sure if I slept at all. I had tried to keep my eyes closed as much as I could, but my mind refused to shut down.

A part of me wished Scott had been downstairs, that he would tell me that everything was going to be okay and that he was going to make sure nothing happened to me. But even if he had been, I was still mad, and my pride was stronger than my fear, so it really didn't matter one way or the other.

Alex had informed me last night that I needed to be out of the house by five o'clock sharp. The courthouse was about an hour and a half away, and I would need time to switch cars before I arrived at the courthouse by 7:30. I had no idea when I would be called to the stand, so Esther wanted to make sure she saw me one final time before the trial began.

I take a deep breath before I push the covers back and wander to my closet. Esther suggested wearing the most modest/innocent looking outfit I had. I choose a black suit with a light blue shirt underneath. I quickly slip it on and pair it with white shoes before brushing my hair to the side, straightening it. Esther also suggested that I don't wear any makeup. I had begrudgingly agreed, only covering my bags under my eyes.

Turns out, testifying was a hell of a lot more than just sitting on a stand and telling the jury what happened. I also had to make the jury like me and trust me in those few minutes I would be recalling my story. Because sometimes the truth just wasn't enough.

I rub on a thin layer of concealer for my under-eye bags and finish off my look with tinted chapstick–subtle enough to be mistaken as my natural color while still adding a pop of color.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I feel ten years younger–like I was getting ready for my high school homecoming all over again. There was a vulnerable look in my eyes, one I had never seen before.

There's a quiet knock on the door and I take a deep breath before stepping away from the mirror and opening the door.

Alex's eyes greet me and he smiles as he takes me in.

"You look very nice." His voice is the calm before the storm.

"I tried to think what would match a bullet-proof vest." I swallow the laugh in my throat, unable to let it loose today. Alex just smiles.

"Ready?"

I take a deep breath and step into the hallway.

"As I'll ever be."

Benjamin, Ben, as he had insisted I call him, meets us at the bottom of the stairs, a black vest in his hands.

"This will go over your head, and then we'll tighten it to fit you." He states with authority, though his voice is soft. He unlatches the shoulder straps so that the vest opens up. He swings it around my head and I stand still as he lowers it onto my.

"Holy shit," I gasp as the material rests against my body, my knees buckling a bit. I hadn't expected it to be so heavy. Ben doesn't respond as he velcros the shoulder straps before reaching behind me and securing two more straps along my waist.

"How much does this thing weigh?" I huff, pulling at the neckline as Ben does a final check to make sure everything is secure.

"Twelves pounds." Ben pats my shoulders, ignoring my struggle.

The straps are tight and constricting, and I shimmy under them trying to get comfortable.

"Stop that." Ben chides, his hands wrapping around my arms to still me. "The tighter it is, the less space for a bullet to go through." He says as if it's no big deal, like I'm totally used to people shooting at me.

Right. Bullets.

I drop my hands to my side and Ben gives me a final pat.

"Ready?" His brown eyes stare into mine. I have a feeling people are going to be asking me that a lot today.

"Yep." I pop the "p" just a bit, my nerves starting to tangle inside me.

Alex and Ben lead me outside to an awaiting SUV. The car is huge and shiny, and I notice there are no license plates. Two men are sitting in the front seats and Ben climbs in on one side as Alex opens the door for me to get in. I shimmy my way into the vehicle as Alex takes the seat next to me and shuts the door.

The man in the passenger seat lifts a walkie-talkie to his mouth.

"41-90 checking in. All passengers secure. We're rolling." The man nods to the driver and he begins backing out of the driveway. My stomach drops as the car bounces over the asphalt hump. This was the first time since Scott brought me here that I was leaving–and there was a good chance I may not come back.

My lips begins to quiver and my eyes feel heavy. There's a lump in my throat and I'm suddenly worried I may puke all over the tan leather interior of the car.

"How are you feeling?" Alex leans over, keeping his voice low. Though I'm sure everyone heard, they all keep straight faces.

"Not great." I answer honestly, not even finding a way to work a joke in. Because there were no jokes to be made. Everyone in this car was putting their lives on the line today, and not a single person knew if we were going to make it or it.

Alex reaches out his hand and I look over at him with a smile before I take it.

"You're going to be fine." He gives my hand a squeeze.

"You sound so sure." I smile tightly at him, the words getting caught in my throat, tears once again returning to my eyes.

"That's because I know Scott, and he's not going to let anything happen to you." I drop Alex's hand at the mention of Scott and look down.

"I hope so."

-/::\-

The next hour and fifteen minutes pass in total silence. I watch the scenery speed by me, not recognizing anything from my drive up with Scott only two months ago.

God, it felt like years I had been in that house, but it was really only six weeks.

But now I was in the home stretch. I just had to survive through it.

Literally.

-/::\-

By the time we reach the city outskirts, the driver pulls into a parking garage and twists and turns the car down three ramps, causing my stomach to leap into my throat, before parking next to an identical SUV.

Alex turns in his seat to me.

"We're going to switch cars now and both will drive to the courthouse. Once we get there, well be in the judges' parking garage so that no one but the FBI will have access while we get you inside the building." I take a deep breath. I had never heard Alex speak so professionally before, his agent mode activated. It was just another reminder of how much danger we all were in.

I just swallow before I nod. Alex and Ben get out of the car and Alex signals for me to wait. I watch from my seat as they look around the garage, Alex wandering to the other car and tapping on the driver's window.

The blacked out glass roles down and I can't see the driver Alex begins taking to. The exchange is short before Alex nods his head. Ben appears at my door.

"Let's go." He says gently, more like a request than the command that it is.
I scoot from my seat in the middle of the car and climb out. Ben's hand immediately lands on the small of my back as he hurries me across the small space between the two cars. Alex opens the door for me and I quickly hop inside, taking the same spot in the middle as I had in the last car.

Alex and Ben climb in on either side of me, their doors shutting with a deafening echo.

The man in the passenger's seat raises a walkie-talkie to his mouth.

"32-29 checking in and rolling out." His voice is deep and short.

"Confirmed, 32-29. You have permission to proceed." A woman's voice responds. I wonder who she is, and how she's involved with the case. Is she another agent? Or does she just work over the walkie-talkies, listening while men and women in the field risk their lives while she sits at a desk?

The driver nods and he throws the car into drive as he climbs the SUV up the same ramps we had come down just two minutes ago.

The car speeds through the streets of downtown, passing people waiting for the bus or strolling their way into work, simple things I had taken for granted just two months ago.

The driver has the blue and red lights flashing through our commute, never once stopping at a light or stop sign. We fly through the morning traffic and after only ten minutes, the car approaches the immense building made from some sort of dark brown rock. The whole place looks cold and unnerving, not like the beautiful courthouses I've seen on TV.

We pass by by the front of the building, and I notice the hoard of TV cameras and journalists waiting on the steps. My stomach drops. It never crossed my mind that this case would be newsworthy–though it made sense. The right-hand man to this city's worst crime boss was definitely news. I had just been so cut off from everything, it never even occurred to me.

"Are they going to be in the courtroom?" I point out the crowd to Alex as we pass by.

Alex looks out the window.

"The judge blocked any news crews from filming the trial but there will be journalists in there taking notes and using tape recorders." He says blankly, barely having glanced at them.

I nibble on my lip and nod, my uneasiness growing. Not only was I about to reveal myself to the men who wanted me dead, but to the entire world.

I wonder if my parents are watching the news, having any clue the part their son was about to play.

The cars disappear off the streets and dip below into a parking garage after getting the go-ahead from two security guards who inspect the outside of the cars, I'm not sure for what.

The cars speed along through the quiet garage until coming to a screeching halt in front of a bank of elevators where two new agents are waiting for us. Ben steps out of the car first and I follow behind him. Alex is right behind me as the three of us approach the elevators. Alex and Ben nod to the two agents as the five of us wait in silence before the elevator dings in arrival.

My group clamors in, and I find myself in the middle, the four men flanking my every angle.

I wonder if this is what it's like for the President.

I watch the numbers above the door climb from 2G, 1G, and LL, before settling on L, the silver doors opening in front of us.

I swallow down the lump in my throat.
Here goes nothing.

-/::\-

Scott paces back and forth through the holding room as he glances at his watch: 7:28.

They should be here any minute now.
"You gotta relax, Hoying." Esther comments from across the room, her head buried in a file.

Scott turns and faces her, anything but relaxation on his features.

"This is an important case," he snips a reminder at her, as if she doesn't already know. Avi had a to disclose the potential conflict of interest of Scott being on this case. Esther wasn't happy about it, but as long as Scott didn't let his emotions get the best of him, Esther could make do. She expected Scott's relationship with the case to come up in court, so she studied Scott Hoying's file from front to back, even cracking open the file on Connie Hoying's murder to better understand why Avi had lost his god damn mind letting an agent with a personal connection–though her choice of word had been "vendetta" –lead the case. Her heart broke as she read through Scott's witness statement, but it didn't ease her concerns at all about the conflict of interest.

Suddenly, the only door in the room opens and Agents Clark and Nevins step inside, Mitch close on their heels with Alex and Ben behind him.

"Right on time," Scott hears Esther stand behind him. "Nicely, done boys."
Scott's eyes land on Mitch; his hair is swiped to the side and straightened and he seems to be wearing a suit under the large cavalier vest that seems to be swallowing his frame, just another reminder of why he couldn't afford a single distraction. Mitch's eyes are downcast, his shoes seemingly more interesting that the commotion of the room. He looks young, like he's just out of college and the scariest thing he has to face is finding a job.

Mitch's brown eyes look up and meet Scott's, causing his jaw to tighten. He looks petrified, and a pang of guilt surges through Scott for leaving him without anyone to talk to. He had been there for every concern Mitch had during this case, but during the time Mitch probably needed him most, Scott left him.

"Good to see you, Mitch." Esther steps forward, pushing past Scott. "How are you feeling?"

Mitch offers Esther a small and tight smile.

"Is it too early for a drink?" Mitch manages to laugh, but Scott doesn't miss the quiver underneath it.

Esther chuckles and shakes her head.

"Once this case is done, I'll buy you the strongest drink they've got out there." Mitch seems to release a breath and his shoulders relax as much as they can while carrying the weight of the cavalier vest.

Scott looks him up and down–despite the nerves, he knew Mitch was going to be just fine.

There's a knock on the door and everyone in the room turns towards the noise–they weren't expecting anyone at this time. Alex shoots Scott a look before he cautiously steps forward, Ben and Nevins stepping in front of Mitch as Alex opens the door.

"Yes?" He barely pulls the door open, just poking his head out. Scott can't hear what's being said, but when Alex straightens up, Scott's stomach drops.

Something's not right.

Alex nods his head before shutting the door and holding onto the frame for a moment before turning back to the group.

"Can we speak for a minute?" Alex's eyes find Scott's.

Fuck.

"What's going on?" Mitch asks, pushing past Nevins. Esther reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder, trying to hold him back.

"Stay here." Scott orders him as Alex reopens the door and steps outside, Scott fast behind him.

"Scott!" Mitch yells, clear concern in his voice before Scott slams the door behind him.

Alex's face is somber and he looks down at his feet.

"What the hell's going on, Alex?" Scott keeps his voice low, his eyes wandering the scarce crowds around them.

"That was one of the court officers." Alex speaks slowly and Scott looks at him exasperated, wanting an answer now. "They said there's an issue down in Vine's holding cell and asked if we could come down there immediately." Alex sighs.

"Fuck," Scott hisses. "This can't be good."

The two agents hurry through the courthouse, flashing their badges at security before weaving their way through the mryaid of hallways down to the holding cells.

Scott steps into the room first, four court officers huddled around one cell.

"What the hell is going on here?" Scott's voice booms through the small room.

All four men turn and look at him before looking at each other, trying to decide who's going to speak.

"Jesus christ," Scott huffs at the waste of time and pushes past the small group to the cell.

His stomach plummets and he feels like he's been kicked in the throat when he takes in the scene before him.

On the ground lays Vine, a bedsheet tied tight around his neck, the other end attached high on the cell bars, his brown lifeless eyes staring open.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Scott roars as he hurries into the cell, squatting down and checking for a pulse. He presses down on the still warm skin harder, searching for anything.

"Fuck!" Scott yells when he feels not a single beat, quickly standing straight up. His chest heaves as he paces across the tiny cell, his hands pulling at his short hair.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He wasn't supposed to be dead. This wasn't what Scott had spent his whole life chasing–for the man who murdered his mother to have taken the easy way out. He was supposed to rot in prison for the rest of his miserable life, and know that Scott was the one who had put him there. He wasn't supposed to get to choose his fate. Scott was.

"Scott." Alex's voice brings him back. Scott turns back to the five men watching him, his arms falling to his sides. His hands clench into fists, his knuckles turning white as he fights back the desire to punch of the idiots that was responsible for it.

Scott stares down the group of men in dark blue uniforms.

"Who the fuck was suppose to be watching him?" Scott screams as he takes a step towards them, his voice bouncing off the cell walls, and the four men look between one other.

"Scott," Alex steps inside the cell with him.

"Fuck!" Scott turns and kicks the bed in the corner, the mattress hopping into the air and landing wayward on the metal top it had been resting on.

Scott's jaw clenches as he turns back around and stares down at the man he had been dreaming of personally locking away since he was seven years old.

The fucking piece of shit one-upped him one final time.

Alex turns to the officers watching Scott's meltdown from outside the bars.

"One of you needs to find the judge and alert him that our defendant is dead, and someone else needs to call the local medical examiner immediately." Alex orders calmly but loudly, and two men break from the group, both going in different directions.

Alex glances at Scott as he squats down and examines Vine, a hand over his mouth as he shakes his head, his jaw clenching as he looks down at the lifeless body. Alex grabs his cellphone and quickly dials Avi as he steps outside of the cell.

"Avi, it's Alex."

"Alex?" Avi asks, confused as to why one of his agents would be calling him before the trial he was working was about to begin. "Everything okay?" Avi asks cautiously, already having an idea of the answer.

"Not exactly."

-/::\-

I sit at the small table in the holding room, my leg bouncing as I nibble at my cuticle.

First, Alex and Scott went running out of here, then Esther, after a court officer requested her immediate presence in front of Judge Middleton.
I had no idea what was happening, but it couldn't be good.

My face felt hot and flushed and my stomach was in knots. I wasn't sure if I was on the verge of passing out or puking. Maybe both.

I just wished someone would tell me what was happening.

I was left with Ben, Nevins and Clark, who all stood around with straight faces, unaffected by the flurry around them. I had to wonder if they knew what was happening, or if they were just that good at acting.

I watch the seconds on the wall clock tick by, each one painfully slow.

It was now 8:34am; the trial should have started over a half hour ago, but something told me that I wasn't going to be stepping into a courtroom today.

Suddenly, the door pushes open, and I quickly stand, sighing in relief as Alex steps inside and shuts the door behind him, happy to see a friendly face, until I take in his worried expression.

"Alex," I step towards him. "What's happening?" I just want a straight answer. I was tired of this waiting game. Alex takes a deep breath and looks away, his lips setting in a hard line.

"There's been a change in plans." Alex looks back at me. "We need to take you to the FBI headquarters while we figure everything out." Alex glances at the other agents in the room, informing me of the plans at the same time he gives them their orders.

Clark lifts a walkie-talkie to his mouth and ducks his head as he speaks to whomever is on the other end.

"Alex," I look away from Clark, grabbing his attention again. He's on edge, and I really know something's wrong now. "Please. What the hell is happening?" I plead, feeling like on the verge of screaming if no one tells me in the next minute.

Alex's jaw tightens and his eyes flurry back and forth before he takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye.

"Vine's dead." He says quietly, catching the attention of the entire room.

The wind gets knocked out of me as I stumble back, the back of my thighs knocking against the edge of the table.

"What?" I gasp, my head swimming, my hand rushing up to my head.

Vine was dead. How? In the courthouse? Did someone kill him? Was someone here to kill me too? Where the hell was Scott?

"Look," Alex grabs my arm gently, shaking me from my thoughts. "Right now, we need to get you to our headquarters and then we'll figure out our next move." Alex's eyes scan me, trying to figure out where my head is at. "Okay?" He gives me a little shake, and I look into his brown eyes.

I swallow hard and nod.

"Okay." I whisper, my voice suddenly failing me.

Alex's hand falls away from me and he turns to the other agents in the room.
"The three of you will be responsible for his safe transportation to headquarters. EAD Kaplan will be waiting for you. Scott and I are staying back until the crime scene team arrives." Alex commands the room.

My head snaps up at the mention of Scott.

He had to be out of his mind.

Ben takes a step forward and nods.

"Alight team, cars are ready. Let's get moving." Nevins and Clark quickly flank me as Ben takes the lead and the four of us start moving.

"Alex," I call out for him as we pass by, but Clark puts a hand on my shoulder and keeps me moving forward, hustling me along until we reach the elevators.
As soon as the doors open, Ben steps in and to the side, allowing me to enter as the two men behind me follow suit and resume their positions before the doors even close.

By the elevator opens to 2G, both SUVs are ready and waiting, their doors open. A man waiting by the back car nods his head and offers up a "clear," before my group hurries from the elevator banks. Ben pushes me into the back of the car and pulls himself in besides me as the car door shuts.

The man who had been waiting for me quickly hops in front and orders the driver to go, the tires of the car squealing before we go racing into the street, lights and sirens blaring as we pass by the flurry of cars around us.

My hands wring together in my lap as the scenery speeds by.

Vine was dead.

What the hell did this mean for me?What the hell did it mean for Scott?
Was there still going to be a trial? Was my life still in danger?

I can't stop the bombardment of questions that fly through my head before the car comes to a screeching halt inside yet another garage.

Ben pushes the door open and offers a hand to help me out.

Waiting at the bank of elevators is Mr. Kaplan, his hands in his pockets as Ben escorts me forward.

"Mitchell," he nods to me, his brown eyes perfectly calm as you approach. "How about we head up to my office?" He offers with a smile, not a trace of concern on his features.

I swallow hard and nod, not trusting my voice.

He extends his arm and leads me to the elevator. He clicks the up arrow, and the we wait until the doors open.

He lets me enter first, and he steps in, followed by Ben.

I watch the two SUVs speed off to god knows where as the elevator doors close and the three of us acsend.