They did not need any.
The truth stood strong on its own, and Mason let it do the work for him.
Grady clenched his jaw at that answer. A thin line of tension ran up his neck, making a tendon pull tight beneath the skin.
You think this system is clean, he said. The sound of his laugh followed a second later, a dry scrape that echoed in the empty corridor.
It is dirtier than me. I am just the first one dragged into the light.
His tone had a hollow ring, the kind of echo that came from someone who believed every word he said and wanted others to believe it, too.
Aisha felt the impact of that line before she even understood why.
Her foot slid back half a step, a reaction so quick she did not register it until her heel touched the floor.
The cold of the hallway crept under her coat and climbed her spine.
It was not his anger that unsettled her.
It was the calm certainty behind his words.
It felt too large, too heavy, like a shadow cast by something she could not see.
His voice slipped under her skin and stayed there, sharp and cold.
Grady noticed. His lips curled into a laugh that looked more like a grimace.
The shape of it brought to mind a mirror cracked down the middle, still reflecting, but broken in a way that could not be fixed.
You barely touched the surface of the trash pit, girl.
He tilted his head, not looking at Mason at all.
His eyes stayed locked on Aisha, and something in that stare felt like a deliberate final strike.
He wanted her to remember this moment.
Shut up, one of the officers barked as he yanked Grady forward.
The grip on Grady's arm tightened and the chains clinked together as he stumbled.
But even then, Grady twisted his torso, fighting the pull just long enough to throw one last shout at them.
This whole city is against you. You think I am the only one?
His voice carried farther than it should have.
It shot through the open doorway and spilled out into the courtyard, bouncing off the stone steps.
The echo traveled up the tall courthouse walls and came back down harsher than when it first left his throat.
The sound hung in the cold afternoon air, clinging to the ears of everyone who heard it.
It felt like the aftertaste of something bitter that no one wanted to swallow.
The officers pushed him into the transport truck.
The metal door slammed shut with a heavy thud that seemed to pull the air down with it.
The strike of the door was final.
It felt like the end of a story that had dragged on too long.
Yet, the moment did not bring relief.
If anything, it left a hollow space behind, as if something unfinished had been pushed aside, but not settled.
The courtyard outside the courthouse went quiet after the truck left.
The wind brushed across the concrete steps and stirred a few stray leaves, making them scrape lightly against the ground.
The sky above was a flat sheet of gray, the kind of sky that warned of snow even before the first flake appeared.