“Grant’s lawyer has already floated the idea of a letter of apology.”

“They think if he writes a formal letter expressing remorse to you and the court, it might help secure the four-year deal.”

I felt a cold smile touch my lips.

“He can write whatever he wants,” I said. “I won’t read it, and I certainly won’t carry it for him.”

“We will make sure the prosecutor knows that,” Naomi said.

General Vale checked his watch.

“We should get you back to the hospital, Colonel,” he said.

“The drive will take about twenty minutes in this traffic.”

“I have my driver waiting downstairs.”

“Thank you, General,” I said.

I stood up, my body protesting the movement, but I kept my face neutral.

I was a soldier. I had marched through worse than this.

We walked out of the courtroom and into the wide, marble-floored hallway.

The air was cool, smelling of floor wax and old paper.

A few reporters were gathered near the elevators, their cameras flashing as they saw General Vale.

But the general’s security detail quickly stepped in front of us, forming a human wall that guided us toward the secure service elevator.