Uriel Zander sat opposite Daniel in the darkened conference room, the weight of the conversation heavy between them. It had been nearly two days since the arraignment and bail hearing, and Uriel had pushed hard to get Daniel out on bond. But now came the harder part—getting to the truth.

Daniel was still jittery, his leg bouncing nervously under the table. His eyes were bloodshot, and the lines on his face told a sad story of sleepless nights and unrelenting guilt. Uriel knew this look; it was fear mixed with desperation. But Daniel wasn't just another client; he was a friend, and that made this whole situation feel all the more personal.

"I need to know the whole truth, Daniel," Uriel said, firm but unruffled. "No more half-explanations. No more vague descriptions. If I'm going to defend you, you need to tell me everything."

Daniel swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he placed them on the table. "I… I don't even know how to explain it. We were arguing, like I said. I don't even remember how it started—something stupid, about her seeing someone else or… I don't know." He paused, looking down at his hands. "I just lost it. I didn't mean for things to get out of control, but… it did. During the argument, I got her down upon the ground."

Uriel leant forward, his eyes intense. "So, it wasn't just an accident, was it?"

Daniel shook his head slowly. "No. I mean, I didn't plan for it to happen. I didn't want to hurt her, but I got so angry, and… I lost control. I didn't mean for her to fall. I didn't mean for her to… to die."

There it was—the truth. The one Uriel had suspected from the beginning, yet needed to hear from Daniel's own mouth. The prosecution would come at Daniel hard, portraying him as a violent man who snapped in a fit of rage; yet, Uriel knew he could still piece a defense together.

Uriel nodded. Already, his mind was one step ahead. "Alright, Daniel. You lost control. That's clear. But we're going to frame this as a case of self-defense. You were fighting, she may well have attacked you, and you defended yourself futilely. You didn't mean for her to die—that's not second-degree murder."

Daniel's eyelids blinked and his face whitened. "Self-defense? But… but I wasn't—"

Daniel got no further. Uriel raised a hand, silencing him. "Just listen, will you? We have to do the best we can with what we've got. You didn't plan this and you didn't intend to kill her. But the jury needs to see that you were reacting to a situation which spiraled out of control. That's our best chance at reducing the charge or acquittal."

Daniel nodded, the fear still in his eyes, but now accompanied by a faint flicker of hope. "Okay… okay, if you think it'll work, I trust you."

Uriel gave a tight nod. "Good. Now we have a few months before the trial. We'll use that time getting ready for bundala; I'll dig into evidence, interview whatever witnesses, and work on making this self-defense claim stick."

He checked his watch, time flying—just how long they'd been talking. He needed a breather, a moment to clear the head and let off a little steam. As much as he reveled in the bedlam of the legal world, even Uriel Zander needed release.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Later that night, Uriel was at his favorite MMA gym: the smell of sweat and canvas hanging in the air. Five years earlier, he had started training here in law school—to stay in shape, to handle the stress of a grueling schedule. Exercise meant more for him than the release of his thoughts, stretching his body beyond its limits when his brain felt it couldn't take anymore.

Uriel was in front of the heavy bag in which he hardened his fists with tape. In an instant, he burst into neat, spirited punches, a one-two combination: a dull thud of his fist into the bag amidst an otherwise silent gym. The rhythmic motion of his strikes, the focus it demanded, helped him clear his head as his thoughts fell into line.

He thought about the case of Daniel, the self-defense strategy he was going to adopt. It wasn't going to be easy. The prosecution would contend that Daniel lost control in a jealous rage, the anger provoked by possessiveness, not fear of his life. But Uriel knew how to frame a story, and if anyone was capable of planting serious levels of reasonable doubt into the minds of this jury against the prosecution's version, it was him.

He continued with his workout, but his mind began to wander back to his law school days, the person he had been before one of the best young defense attorneys in New York.

Flashback: Law School - Five Years Ago

It was late, and the library at Columbia Law School was all but empty, except for a handful of conscientious students poring over texts and legal research. The table where Uriel sat included Daniel and a few fellow classmates, taking a rare break from his studies. Law school had been a relentless grind, but Uriel was one of those who flourished in it. He had always been competitive, always driven to be the best, and it showed in his grades and in his work ethic.

Daniel, on the other hand, had never been such a hard worker; he was smart—no one could deny that—but he never applied himself. He coasted through classes, doing just enough to get by, while Uriel and another classmate—Aaron Sinclair—duked it out for the top spot.

Aaron represented the toughest competition Uriel had. Towering over him, confident and ruthlessly ambitious, Aaron had made it clear from day one that he would become the best prosecutor in the country. Uriel respected him, even if he didn't always like him. They were always at the top of their class, trading the number one position back and forth with every exam, every assignment.

That night at the library, Aaron had stopped by their table, giving Uriel a nod as he glanced over the case law they were discussing.

"You're gunning for the DA's office, right?" Aaron had asked, his tone casual but with an edge of competitiveness.

Uriel had smirked. "Something like that. What about you? Still aiming for that big prosecutor job?"

Aaron had grinned. "Of course. Gotta knock people like you down a peg someday."

Uriel had shrugged, his eyes glinting with humor. "We'll see about that."

Daniel, slumped in his chair and half-listening to the exchange, had let out a snicker. "You're both idiots. We all get the same degree at the end of this—a fact—so who's better?"

Aaron had given him no more than a passing glance before turning back to Uriel. "Only one of us is going to be the best, Zander. You can count on that."

Uriel had felt the fire in his chest then, the same fire that had driven him to study harder, work longer, and never back down from a challenge. Aaron had always been a reminder that complacency would never do. Uriel had to stay sharp—always.

He shook the memories from his mind and landed one final punch on the heavy bag. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his muscles ached, but at least his mind was clear.

Wasn't in law school no more. Wasn't fighting for grades or beating out Aaron Sinclair. This was real life now—people's lives hung in the balance. And Daniel was one of those people.

Uriel mopped his forehead, heading toward the locker room. The long battle that lay ahead of him—well, it was about time to rumble. This wasn't just about winning a case anymore. It was about protecting someone who had come to him in their darkest hour—and Uriel wasn't about to let him down.