Chapter 7
The courtroom was packed.
It had been three months since the arrests. Three months of headlines. Three months of depositions and motions and leaks to the press. Three months of Andrew and Margaret Prescott screaming that they were the real victims.
Three months of Emma healing.
She sat at the plaintiff’s table, flanked by her father and her attorney. Her face was almost completely healed now. The orbital fracture had been repaired. The bruises had faded.
But the scar above her left eyebrow remained.
Thin.
Pale.
A permanent reminder.
Jacob and Lily were in the gallery, sitting with Hawk and Viper, who had insisted on coming. “For security,” they had said. But Daniel knew better. They had become family. Uncles who taught the kids how to defend themselves and how to pick locks and how to always, always look for the exits.
The judge called the court to order.
The bailiff read the charges.
Andrew and Margaret sat at the defense table. They looked smaller. Deflated. The expensive clothes were gone. Replaced by jailhouse scrubs and manacles.
Andrew’s attorney had tried to get a change of venue.
Tried to argue that the pretrial publicity had made a fair trial impossible.
The judge had laughed.
Literally laughed.
And denied the motion.
The prosecution’s case was devastating.
They played the videos.
Redacted.
But clear enough.
The jury watched in stunned silence.
Several of the women cried.
One of the men—an ex-marine, the prosecution later learned—had to be excused after the third tape. He said he couldn't be in the same room as Andrew without wanting to “break something.”
They called witnesses.
Nannies who had worked for the Prescotts and quit after seeing things they couldn't unsee.
Housekeepers who had cleaned up the blood.
Doctors who had treated Emma’s “accidents” and suspected the truth but had been too afraid of the Prescott name to say anything.
They called Sheriff Tompkins.
He had already pleaded guilty to a dozen charges in exchange for testifying against the Prescotts. He was going to prison for eight years. He told the jury everything. The bribes. The cover-ups. The gun planted in Daniel’s basement. The way Andrew had called him that night, terrified, telling him to call everything off.
Then they called Margaret’s friends.
The bridge club.
The charity board.
One by one, they admitted that Margaret had told them about Emma’s “falls.” Had joked about it. Had blamed Emma. Had been proud of her son for “keeping his wife in her place.”
The defense didn't call a single witness.
They didn't put Andrew on the stand.
They didn't put Margaret on the stand.
They had nothing.
Not a single argument that could stand against the mountain of evidence the prosecution—with Wolf and his team’s quiet, invisible help—had assembled.
The jury deliberated for four hours and seventeen minutes.
When they came back, the forewoman stood.
She didn't look at Andrew.
She didn't look at Margaret.
She looked directly at Emma.
And she nodded.
Once.
Then she read the verdicts.
Guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty.
On every single count.
Andrew closed his eyes.
Margaret screamed obscenities at the jury. At the judge. At Emma. At Daniel.
The bailiffs dragged her out.
The judge set sentencing for two weeks later.
The courtroom erupted.
Reporters shouted questions.
Cameras flashed.
Emma sat perfectly still.
She didn't scream.
She didn't cry.
She simply closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Six years.
Six years of fear.
Six years of pain.
Six years of wondering if she would ever be free.
It was over.
Really over.
Daniel squeezed her hand.
She opened her eyes and looked at him.
“Thank you, Dad,” she said quietly.
Daniel smiled.
“You don't have to thank me, baby. That’s what dads are for.”
They stood to leave.
The crowd parted for them like the Red Sea.
People reached out to touch Emma’s arm. To whisper words of support. Of admiration. Of solidarity.
She nodded at each of them.
Graciously.
Strongly.
Outside, the sun was shining.
Jacob and Lily came running.
“Mommy! Mommy! The bad men are gone forever?” Lily asked, bouncing on her toes.
Emma knelt and took her daughter’s face in her hands.
“Yes, baby,” she said. “They’re gone. They’re never going to hurt anyone ever again.”
Jacob stood straight, his little chest puffed out. Just like his grandfather.
“I knew Grandpa would fix it,” he said seriously. “Grandpa fixes everything.”
Daniel ruffled the boy’s hair.
“Not everything,” he said. “But the important things? Yeah. I’ve got those covered.”
Wolf walked up. He was dressed in a nice suit. The first time any of them had ever seen him in anything other than black tactical gear.
“Sentencing is in two weeks,” he said. “The prosecution is asking for maximum across the board. Andrew is looking at thirty-five to forty years. Margaret is looking at fifteen to twenty. With the federal charges stacked on top... they’ll die in prison. Neither of them will ever see the outside of a cell again.”
Emma nodded.
“Good.”
She thought for a moment.
“Wolf... what happens to you and the others now? Do you go back to your lives?”
Wolf looked at Daniel.
Then at Emma.
Then at the two children, who were now trying to teach Hawk how to do a cartwheel on the courthouse lawn.
He smiled.
“Actually,” he said, “we’ve been talking. We’re all retired. We all have more money than we could ever spend. And honestly... civilian life is boring. We were thinking... maybe we stick around Nashville for a while. Set up a security firm. Help people like you. People who the system has failed. People who need someone to fight for them.”
Emma’s eyes filled with tears.
“Really?”
“Really. The Colonel has already agreed to be our chairman of the board. Something about ‘not being ready to sit in a rocking chair just yet.’”
Daniel snorted.
“Rocking chairs are for old men,” he said. “I’ve got at least one more good war in me.”
Emma laughed.
It was a real sound.
Light.
Free.
No one had heard her laugh like that in six years.
She stood and wrapped Wolf in a hug.
He froze for a second.
Clearly, no one had ever hugged Wolf before.
Then, awkwardly, gently, he hugged her back.
“Thank you,” she said. “All of you. For giving me my life back.”
When she pulled away, Wolf’s face was almost pink.
He cleared his throat.
“Just doing our job, ma’am.”
He turned and walked quickly toward Hawk and the kids, who were now involved in a very serious game of tag.
Emma watched him go.
Then she looked at her father.
At her children.
At the team of men who had become her family.
The future stretched out before her.
Bright.
Wide open.
Scary, sometimes.
But hers.
Completely, utterly hers.
She took a deep breath of the warm Nashville air.
May you like
And for the first time in longer than she could remember...
Emma Mercer smiled.
