BENITA CELESTINE

We watched strictly as the judge sat up in the chair for the umpteenth time since we started the case, looked at me, the prosecutor, and the entire court.

My hands were clasped so tightly in my lap that my knuckles were white. My lawyer placed a reassuring hand on my arm, which Felix was gawking at with an expressionless face from where he sat.

The judge cleared his throat, the sound amplified in the heavy silence. "Will the defendants please rise?"

Nikita and I ...