Pulse |BLOOD OF MY LOVE|

Chapter X

LET ME BURN. LET ME BURN ALONE. BECAUSE IF THE FLAMES BURN YOU, THEY'LL BE PUT OUT. DESTROYED.

''Order."
The judge called for order, his gavel a thunderclap in the tense atmosphere.

Isla was ushered inside. Her ice blue eyes strayed to find grey ones, and when they met, she was greeted with an emotion other than love. Betrayal. She had seen this once before in these eyes. Yet this time, the emotion was even more intense. She had finally succeeded in breaking him once and for all.

Grayson-her heart called his name, but her eyes concealed the pleas behind an indifferent look. Isla walked towards her seat. The courtroom was a cavernous space, high ceilings loomed above, and the walls were lined with dark wood paneling. At the front, the judge's bench stood elevated on a dais.

Below the bench, the witness stand awaited its occupants, a solitary chair facing the room. The court clerk and the court reporter sat at their desks, guardians of the court's records and proceedings. Opposite the jury, the gallery was filled with spectators and members of the press. In this austere arena, Chief Grayson Elrod sat among the audience, his uniform a stark contrast to the civilian attire around him.

His posture was impeccable, his uniform crisp, but his eyes betrayed the storm raging within. As the woman he once loved stood before the scrutinizing eyes of the public, press, opposition, and judge, Grayson's heart was breaking with every step she took towards her seat.

Isla took her seat, an island of calm in the tempest of the court. The prosecutor, a man with a hawkish gaze, rose, papers rustling in a foreboding wind.

When the prosecutor detailed Isla's crime, Grayson's hands tightened into fists, the knuckles whitening. He had been the one to put the cuffs on her wrists, yet his soul was shackled by memories of a love that had once promised a lifetime. With every passing moment, each of his restraints hung by a thin thread, ready to snap. He was angry with Isla for betraying him. But he was angrier with himself.

His attention soon shifted to the prosecutor. "Ms. Laurier, yesterday you orchestrated an escape from federal custody, did you not?" the prosecutor's voice was sharp, each word a pointed barb.

Isla's response was a study in indifference. "Yes, that's what the evidence suggests," she replied, her voice devoid of emotion, her eyes never leaving the prosecutor's.

"And in this escape, you killed three guards, correct?" the prosecutor pressed on, his tone rising with the gravity of the accusation.

"According to the charges, yes," Isla answered, her tone flat, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather.

The prosecutor leaned forward, his hands braced against the podium. "You show no remorse for your actions. Why is that?"

Isla tilted her head slightly, considering the question as if it were a curiosity. "Remorse is a curious thing, isn't it? It presupposes that one regrets their actions. I did what I felt was necessary," she stated, her voice betraying no hint of regret or sorrow.

The courtroom buzzed with whispers at her words, the gallery shifting uncomfortably. The judge called for order.

The defense attorney, a young public defender with a nervous twitch, stood. ''Your Honor, my client has been upfront about her actions. She has not misled this court or wasted its time with false narratives."

The judge nodded, his expression unreadable. ''Ms. Laurier, you stand accused of multiple counts of murder. The severity of these crimes cannot be overstated. Do you understand the gravity of the situation you are in?"

Isla let out a non-humorous laugh and met the judge's gaze, her blue eyes clear and unflinching. ''Perfectly, Your Honor."

Grayson felt each word like a dagger. He stood up, but Derek, who was sitting right next to him, held him back. With a small shake of his head, he tried to persuade Grayson to act with reason. He sat back down, but he couldn't help but remember that once Isla's voice too was warm, filled with laughter and whispers of love.

The judge sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of the law itself. "Ms. Laurier," he began, his voice steady and clear, "you have been found guilty by a jury of your peers. This court has considered the nature of your crimes, the evidence presented, and your lack of remorse."

Isla's gaze never wavered, her eyes fixed on the judge as if she were somewhere far beyond the courtroom walls.

"The sentence of this court," the judge continued, "is that you shall be taken from here to a place of confinement and there kept in close custody until the date of your execution. On that day, you shall be taken to the place of execution and hanged by the neck until you are dead."

A collective gasp rose from the gallery, but Isla remained motionless, her expression unchanged. Grayson's hands clenched tighter, the knuckles white with the force of his grip.

"May God have mercy on your soul," the judge concluded, his words a formal end to the ritual of sentencing.

As the judge's gavel struck, the finality of the sentence reverberated through the courtroom. As Isla was led away, their eyes met for a fleeting moment. No words were exchanged, but volumes were spoken.

"I arrested her, Derek," he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips, "I put her in that cell." Grayson's voice broke, his eyes watery, but not a single tear fell. Derek placed a firm hand on Grayson's shoulder, a silent pillar of support. "And you did it because it's your job to uphold the law, no matter how hard it hits home."

"You," Grayson said, devoid of any emotion, "You don't understand. You won't understand. Nobody... nobody will. Ever."

The courtroom slowly emptied, the spectators dispersing to whisper and wonder at the drama they had witnessed. But for Grayson, the echoes of the sentence would linger long after the halls had cleared. Outside, the world continued its pace, oblivious to the heartbreak that had unfolded within the courtroom walls. But for him, time had stilled, the moment etched into his being. Grayson remained seated, lost in thought.

"Syldavia..." his voice was not above a whisper.

"What, Chief?" Derek asked, puzzled.

"Syldavia. I have... I have to go to Syldavia. Derek, call the Mayor's office. Tell them I want to meet. Right now," Grayson ordered as he got up. He raked his hands through his hair, a small headache forming in his head.

As Grayson was doing his best to hold himself together; Isla, on the other hand, had a smile on her face. Freedom. As she relished the feeling, closing her eyes, she saw Grayson and everything that went down four months ago. A memory she cherished but would do anything to change.

So...what do ya'll think? The memory lane will be starting from now. The latter chapters will be in Grayson and Isla's pov, covering the events from 4 months ago to after this. Hope ya'll continue reading.

Please like and comment. I appreciate your feedback and support. I'll be posting new chapters spontaneously, so stay tuned.

Love ya'll.