Julianna

Isat with my elbows on my knees, staring at the orderly squares of linoleum across the hospital floor. The plastic seat creaked underneath me every time I shifted even slightly. I didn"t know how long I'd been sitting there. Minutes. Hours. Outside, the dawn had come and gone, but inside this hospital, time didn't seem to move.

"I'm sorry. He lost too much blood…"

God, the lights here were too harsh. They burned my eyes. I squeezed them shut, red staining the backs of my lids.

Damn you, Espo. Why did you have to show up when you did? Why did you have to shoot? You fired at an innocent man. You killed an innocent man. It was your own fault. Your prejudice killed you. You deserved your bullet. Even as that thought rose to the surface, guilt spread across me like spilled oil. How could I think that? How could I blame Espo? He'd only been protecting me.

I should have told him about Roman. I should have made Roman's true character known. I'd stayed shrouded in my cowardly silence while a good man like Roman Tyrell was crucified by the world. This was my fault.

My eyes drew to the dark red half-crescents stained under my nails. I had washed Espinoza's blood off my hands, but the evidence of my guilt was still there. I had stood in his way. I had stopped him from defending himself.

How could I have moved if it meant that it would have been Roman lying in the morgue instead?

In that cursed alleyway, clutching at Espo's life as it bled away, I had blamed Roman for all of it. I had sent him away with callous words and the accusatory point of my gun. The broken look on his face haunted me. His best friend had just been killed and in that moment, all I could think of was my own wretched grief, blinded to my own part to play in this black tragedy. At the time when he needed me most, I let him down.

My shoulders slumped around my heart, crumpling in on itself from sorrow's weight. So many pointed fingers. So many moments when it all could have been prevented. Now we had two deaths on our hands. The blame was a heavy chain that fell across all our shoulders. Nobody was innocent.

"Julu!"

My head snapped up. My father, his tie askew, his hair disheveled, strode down the hallway towards me.

"Dad," slipped out from my lips like a prayer. I launched into his arms and clung to his neck like a nine-year-old who had just woken up from a nightmare. Any minute now I would wake up. Any second now…

He shushed at me, a sound like soft waves. "I'm sorry, Julu. So sorry. Espinoza was a good man."

I nodded into his neck, letting his soft sweater soak up my tears. "I don't know what to do, Dad," I whispered.

"His mother's been notified," my father said, his thumb rubbing against my back. That was my father. Strong and calm even when things were falling apart around him. "She's coming in with her brother."

I nodded. I didn't even think about who might need to be notified. I was so lost right now.

"Don't worry," my father said, his voice vibrating with its first timbre of anger. "We'll get the bastard who did this."

I froze.

"There are no usable fingerprints on the gun," my father continued. "But you saw who did it, didn't you?"

Roman. Roman did this. But it wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault.

I tugged away from my father, my thoughts jumbling around in my brain. I was a witness. I could not keep this quiet. I had to tell the truth. Right? It was my duty to say what I saw.

Could I turn on Roman? Could I speak up against him knowing it'd be my words that would slam the bars closed on him for life? He shot a police officer. No judge in the world would be lenient. Even if it wasn't all his fault. He was just reacting against Espo killing Mercutio.

How could I justify what Roman did? He killed out of anger, out of revenge, out of a sense of justice. How could I let Espinoza's death go unpunished? How could I ever face his mother again knowing that I had the power to send her son's murderer away and chose not to? How could I remain a cop?

My father gripped my shoulders. "It was Roman Tyrell, wasn't it? Wasn't it?"

I had to turn him in. This was my job. My duty. I opened my mouth to speak the words. The memory of Roman's broken face as I sent him away flashed in my mind. Somehow, I knew he wouldn't be angry with me if I turned him in. He would understand. Because that's who he was. He would be expecting it. The part of him that didn't see his own worth, embracing it.

It's okay, Jules, I could almost hear him whisper. You do what you have to.

This wasn't his fault. It wasn't. We were all to blame for creating a perfect storm resulting in two deaths. Even me.

They would never see it this way if I told them the truth. That's not how the law worked. The law pinned the blame on the man who pulled the trigger, not on the unseen forces compelling him to do it.

"Julu?" My father frowned deeply at me.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't send Roman away for life. The thought of it made my heart twist in agony. It was wrong, even though it was the "right" thing to do.

"It was dark." My tongue grew thick with my lies. "I didn't see…"

My father let go of me like my skin had become poisonous. His face twisted from disbelief to incredulity to anger. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know who shot Espinoza." My voice came out strained and weak. I hated lying to him. But it was the lesser of two evils.

"The bullet pulled from Mercutio's body was fired from Espinoza's gun. Espinoza's death was a retaliation killing by Roman Tyrell. Admit it." Disapproval radiated off my loving father, stabbing me across my torso.

But I wouldn't break. I couldn't. "I don't know. I didn't see."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Are you protecting him?"

"He isn't what you think."

"He is a Tyrell. They are monsters."

If he just knew Roman like I did, maybe he would give Roman a chance. "He's not like the rest of them. Father, if you only?—"

"He killed your partner," my father roared.

"Espo's not innocent. He shot Mercutio, who didn't even have a weapon on him."

My father bristled. "So it was okay for Roman to kill him?"

"No, I just mean…" What did I mean? This gray brand of justice was never going to rest easy with my father, with the law. Espo had killed Mercutio, an innocent. In turn he was killed. An eye for an eye. It was a clean brand of justice. "Roman doesn't deserve to go to jail."

"He killed your goddamn partner, so why are you protecting him?"

My shoulders sagged as tears sprang to my eyes. I was never going to get through to him.

My father grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "Tell me the truth or I swear to God I will have your badge." His voice boomed out through the hospital corridor. Several nurses and orderlies gasped. I felt all eyes focused on our public display. My face flamed with heat. So much for keeping up appearances. "I'll arrest you myself for obstruction of justice."

My stomach twisted. "You wouldn't."

"I would."

I pushed his hands off me. My father hated the Tyrells so much it made him demented. It was like my father pinned all the world's faults at the feet of the Tyrells. He gave evil a name, a pulse, so it'd be easier to pull down. He couldn't see, blinded by his prejudice, that the world was more shaded than pure black and white.

He shook his head as he paced in front of me. "My own fucking daughter. What does he have on you, huh? What does Roman Tyrell have on you?"

"Nothing."

"Then why won't you speak up against him? Are you afraid of him?"

"No."

"I can protect you. The system will protect you."

"You don't understand."

"Then make me understand."

"He saved me from those attackers. He stopped them from raping me."

"He what?"

"You see, he's good. He's a good man. He's caring and…"

My father stared at me like he didn't even know me. "I can't believe it."

"I love him." It came tumbling out.

There, I said it. I spoke the words. Now I couldn't take them back. I chose where I stood. I would not falter.

"You…what?"

I gripped on to the sides of my pants for strength. "I'm in love with Roman."

"N-No." My father staggered back from me.

I stepped towards him, reaching for him, pleading with him. "I love him because I know the real him. If you just took the time to get to know him, you'd see what I see."

My father's wide eyes locked on mine. For a second I thought I had gotten through to him. For a single sweet second my two worlds met and coexisted.

His lips curled into a snarl. And my fantasy was shattered. "You don't love him, you only think you do. And he doesn't love you, he's playing you, you stupid little girl."

"That's not true."

"How do you know he didn't hire those men himself to attack you so that he could swoop in and play the hero?"

His words slapped me hard across my face.

"What did he get you to do for him in return, huh? Did he ask you to throw the case on Vinnie?"

"No," I said in horror.

"Did you tamper with evidence?"

"How could you even ask me that?" My gut curled with indignation.

"I don't know. Maybe because my own fucking daughter just told me she was in love with a fucking criminal."

My hands, reaching so hard for that dream where my two worlds coexisted, faltered then dropped uselessly by my sides, drained of hope. My father would never accept Roman Tyrell, not in a million years. There could never be a world where the two men I loved most walked on either side of me. In turning to one, I rejected the other. In loving one, I hurt the other. I could not have them both; they would not let me.

My father leaned in, thrusting his finger in my face. "You tell me right now, who shot Espinoza?"

I stared over his weighted brows, his lips pressed thin, the glare in his eyes daring me not to answer.

It came out barely a whisper. "I didn't see."

His finger dropped. Disappointment rolled off him, weighing down the corners of his mouth. "Hand over your badge."

"Dad—"

"Badge. And your gun."

I unclipped the shield and holster from their positions on my belt. I had worked so hard to get them. I had fought sexism and accusations of nepotism. Now I was throwing it all away.

My father snatched them from me. "Now, get out of my sight."

Somehow, it still felt like the right thing to do.

* * *

I shouldn't be here.Even as I tried to walk as silently as possible, my heels still made soft clacking noises against the sterile laminate floor. I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact, walking assuredly as if I was supposed to be here.

I entered the morgue, silent and empty of living beings. Espinoza was lying partly under a white sheet on one of the tables. My step faltered when I spotted him. The only way I was able to keep walking was to focus on my shaky breath.

In.

Out.

In.

I clutched at the metal table as I stood near his head. His usually tanned skin was so pale. So damn pale that I could see the veins on his eyelids. Even his smart-ass mouth was starkly white against the stubble on his strong jaw.

"Oh, Espo," I whispered. "I'm so sorry." Wetness rolled down my cheek.

"What are you doing here?" A voice came from behind me.

I spun, wiping my face. Lacey was standing at the doorway to the morgue, dressed in scrubs. She looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Like mine were.

"I just wanted to see him. To see… To say goodbye."

After a pause, Lacey nodded and walked up to my side. We stood there, two people mourning over a friend, over a good man, who we both cared about.

I'd been hoping that coming here would give me some kind of closure. I was hoping to ask for forgiveness, strange as it was. I knew Espo couldn't hear me anymore. I knew he was gone. I had to find some kind of way to make peace with what I'd decided to do.

"Did you do the autopsy?" I asked quietly. I hoped not. I hoped they didn't make her do it.

She shook her head. "Dr. Carmichael."

I nodded. Dr. Carmichael was a medical examiner who worked the night shift. He and Espo had little contact. Performing Espo's autopsy would have been easier for him. "Did he find anything?"

"I don't think that's something I can discuss with you," she said, her voice turning frosty. She glared at me out of the corner of her eye.

My blood chilled. A single flare of anger attempted to take off—I thought friends were supposed to take friends' sides—but it fell to earth like a kite that wouldn't catch the wind. I couldn't blame her for acting this way towards me. She and Espo had been close too. I knew she'd even had a small crush on Espo, despite her hesitance at his playboyish ways.

"I should go." I turned towards the exit.

Lacey grabbed my arm and spun me to face her. Her face was creased with blame, her eyes shiny with anger, her lip trembling. "Why won't you tell them who did it?"

More apologies jammed up into a knot at my throat. Soon I would choke on them.

"Without your testimony, we have nothing," she went on, her voice becoming more harried, more agitated. "Espo's murderer gets away with it."

"I'm sorry," I finally managed to say.

Lacey's face hardened and her gaze went to something over my shoulder. "I'm sorry too."

A firm hand rested on my shoulder and I turned. Two officers in their shiny blue uniforms had been sent to escort me out. I recognized the officer with his hand on me as Detective Pierce. There was an almost sorry look in his cornflower blue eyes. He was just doing his job, even if he didn't like it. Beside him was a new male officer whose name I couldn't remember.

"Ms. Capulet," Pierce addressed me. His formal tone struck me. He usually called me Capi just like Espo did. Had. Just like Espo had done. He'd never call me Capi again.

I realized Pierce was still talking to me. "You are not allowed to be here under your current suspension. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to escort you out."

Oh.

Right.

I didn't fight them as they led me out, up past the ground floor desks and the reception area. As I passed, the voices hushed around me. Heads turned. I felt the weight of every pair of eyes staring at me. Passing judgment on me, even without knowing the full story. Some of them were openly scowling at me, soft four-letter words uttered deliberately just within earshot. As if I had been the one to pull the trigger.

Now I truly understood how Roman felt.