Chapter 10

CYNTHIA CORVILLE

Cynthia stood in front of her closet and stared at all of her clothes. She had the fancy suits she wore for speaking to the public or important meetings where appearance held more meaning than usual. She had the casual clothes for days where she would spend virtually every hour in her office, although the definition of casual clothes had changed dramatically as President. And then she had a few sweaters she had kept from her time before becoming President, a few cozy sweaters that felt like she had wrapped herself in a soft hug.

Today felt like a sweater day to Cynthia, and so she pulled her favorite out, a dark purple-grey one made of thick material that hung heavy on her, a comforting kind of weight.

But the comfort the sweater offered her did not last long.

xxxx

Larson Hotch sat opposite Cynthia in the President's Room, the first time she'd seen him in person since Felix Fisk showed up to the Waverwell government building.

He wore his Moonfall Precinct uniform, ironed smooth with his name tag level above the breast pocket. His salt and pepper mustache was trimmed short, although he quickly covered his face with a mask as he entered and Cynthia followed suit, adjusting the ear straps until they lay flat.

Cynthia gestured to the chair in front of her desk, then sat down across from Larson. She picked up her official Presidential pen and readied herself to write notes on the notepad she'd prepared beforehand.

"The Trinity has been arrested," Larson said as soon as he sat down. A tired smile tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth, but there was no true joy in it and pain flashed across his expression. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes and his shoulders sagged, making him look like he could sleep for a week.

Relief seeped through every cell in Cynthia's body, and she felt happy the Trinity was arrested but it soon pitched deep into despair. Ashley Baok and Alaska Wendell March were both dead, and Cynthia didn't know what else they may have done. Arrests and charges and convictions couldn't ever bring back the dead and undo the damage done.

"You've arrested the Trinity?" Cynthia echoed, seeking to hear the words again.

Larson nodded. "Yes, the Trinity is in custody. We're keeping all three separate and under constant high-security watch. They will not be escaping."

Larson's expression morphed into conviction and dead seriousness.

"I should hope not." Cynthia internally shuddered at the thought.

"They will be supervised until the day they die," Larson said, voice firm. "Until they're in prison —innocent until proven guilty and there's no guarantee of anything until it's over, of course, but I'm confident in the case and I know we have the right people— they'll also get protection. It's on the news now that we've arrested them, and people will be angry. I don't want anyone to make a stupid decision, even though I'd understand the motives on why."

Cynthia shook her head. She'd understand it too, if someone went after the Trinity.

"How did you catch them?"

Larson tilted his head to the side and set an elbow on the arm of his chair. "We caught them in a house in between the Underdown and Cat's Cradle. A little cabin that was abandoned years ago. No one owned it and so no one was looking for it. Felix Fisk told us what he remembered from his capture, and we fit that with what Sprague Fetch has told us and we have been able to verify. We got there fast enough that we were able to surround them and force a surrender. Thankfully there weren't any other homes around, but several officers were injured."

Cynthia perked up as a bolt of concern lanced through her chest. "How are they doing now?"

"They're all stable. Doctors expect them to make a full recovery. A few are already asking about returning." Larson smiled for a moment.

"Is there anything I can do to help with the Trinity? What do you need to convict them?"

Larson rubbed his chin through his mask and looked off to the side for a few moments. "We have the Trinity in custody. I'm not sure there's anything I need. No conviction is guaranteed until it's handed down by the judge. We already had all the evidence we needed to warrant the arrests of the Trinity. Now it's just about digging into everything on everyone in the Trinity and piecing together every last bit of evidence and organizing it all so it's all in order for the trial."

Cynthia paused, letting the information settle, although it wouldn't. The Trinity was in custody and she knew what would come next— formal charges filed if they weren't already, a trial, the media circus that would follow, and the intended prison sentence of life without parol that wasn't guaranteed until it was handed down by the judge.

"Do you know who they are?" Cynthia asked.

Larson shook his head. "Not entirely yet. We know their names. Mayil, Brenley, and Ander. We believe Mayil to be the leader based on dynamics, but we're still learning more, although they've managed to live almost entirely off the grid. It's somewhat surprising how little we've been able to dig up so far, but I'll admit I can see why they'd want such a low profile."

"Have they been talking?"

Larson huffed a short, humorless laugh. He pushed his mask back up his nose. "No. It would be more helpful if they would talk, related to the case or not, but no, they haven't been talking. Rift is talking with one of them currently and trying to build up any sort of relationship that might get them to speak about something. I don't have particularly high hopes, but stranger things have happened so perhaps, I suppose." He looked off to the side. "I just don't want to mess this up. We're so close, but there's still so many ways this could all fall apart. I don't want to let down Ashley Baok or Alaska Wendell March."

Cynthia felt the same way. "I don't want to either."

She looked down at her desk and picked at a loose string on the arm of her sweater. The soft material now felt clingy and suffocating.

"I don't want to let anyone down," she added on.

"Same here." Exhaustion hung heavy in Larson's eyes, and Cynthia knew they both understood how the other felt.

"Were there four people?" Cynthia asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence, the kind she almost felt bad breaking. "When Felix Fisk showed up here he mentioned the Eidolon."

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She remembered the entire interaction, or rather her seeing it all unfold before her, because she barely spoke to Felix. She remembered the elation at seeing Felix alive, yet also the horror at his injuries and even thinking about what he might have gone through at the hands of the Trinity.

Larson nodded. He looked off to the side to think. "Yes, we do believe there were four people involved. We don't know the extent yet of his involvement, other than that he was involved in Felix Fisk's abduction. His name is Lazarus Doe, though, which we do know for certain."

"Lazarus Doe?"

"Yes."

"Do you have him in custody?"

Larson shook his head, and his face twisted beneath his mask. "No, but we're tracking him down. He worked in the mines in Spider Ridge until recently."

"The mines?" Cynthia echoed.

"Yes, the mines."

"I thought he was with the Trinity."

Larson shrugged. "We believe that he was, but now he's elsewhere. We're hoping that by digging deeper into the Trinity that we'll uncover more about Lazarus, but we are also researching him independently to find as much information as we can."

Cynthia internally shuddered.

"Whatever you need, it's yours."

Cynthia wrote down a few notes and spun her pen between her fingers.

"And what of Sprague Fetch?" Cynthia asked. "Do you think the Trinity is more of a group of five?"

Larson rubbed his chin, then straightened out his mask. "We're still looking into him. We haven't charged him with anything, but we're keeping a very close eye on him and are housing him in a safe location since the public knows who he is and he has connections to the Trinity. "

"Are there any actions I need to be taking on my end to keep people safe? You have Mayil, Brenley, and Ander in custody, but not Lazarus. And you don't know what threat Sprague Fetch might pose, if any. I'm not blaming you and I know your job isn't easy, but I'm trying to work with you toward keeping Waverwell safe."

Larson hummed and took a moment to think. "No, no, I understand. I'm fully with you. Waverwell's safety is important. We are working with other Precincts to focus efforts on tracking down Lazarus Doe, and we're also researching the Trinity, as well as Lazarus and Sprague, to see what information we can uncover. The public should be aware, especially of Lazarus since he's considered dangerous and we do not know his location, but I also don't want to create any panic. Panic would only create more problems."

"We do not need any more problems," Cynthia murmured.

"No, we do not."

xxxx

Cynthia felt no pleasure writing the formal letter for Delta's removal from Waverwell government. She felt glad to finally be working toward something permanent, but she felt anger and sorrow that she even had to be writing something like the letter. How could she be happy doing such a thing when she knew writing the document meant Delta had done something terrible? Something horrific enough to warrant such a measure.

Removing someone from Waverwell government was difficult and required extreme reason. It wasn't done over nothing. But Delta had given plenty of reason.

Less than an hour after Cynthia sent the letter to Delta and the story hit the news, Delta's lawyers shot back, questioning Gabriella and whether she really was telling the truth and vowing a defamation lawsuit.

Charlotte showed up to the President's Room at lunch time.

"Wish I could've been there, Sin," Charlotte said, holding the door as the two walked out into the hallway for a brief lunch together.

"I'm glad he's gone, but it wasn't a happy occasion," Cynthia replied.

Charlotte inclined her head, keeping pace with Cynthia. "I know, but I still wish I could've seen his face."

"It felt like a weight got lifted, but now it feels like it's been replaced with a new one in the form of Delta pushing back."

Charlotte hummed. "I wouldn't look at Muse then, if I were you."

Cynthia sighed, shoulders sagging. "Do I even want to know?"

"It's been..." Charlotte trailed off. "It's been divisive, to say the least. Virtually every post made, Delta's or Gabriella's or someone else's, has been filled with comments arguing it out. People are very... passionate on both sides."

"I'm not surprised," was all Cynthia could say. She closed her eyes and took a breath.

Their table was already set when Cynthia and Charlotte arrived, a small table off to the side with two chairs. Waiters set down food, an elaborate display of meats and veggies that Cynthia almost felt bad for disturbing.

Charlotte dug in, but Cynthia picked at her meal.

"He's in the wrong," Charlotte murmured, pausing in eating.

"I know that. Gabriella knows it, too. Many do. I'm just worried it won't be so clear cut."

"You're worried his lawyers are going to find him a way out of this?"

Cynthia stared at her plate and pushed a piece of broccoli around. She nodded, and a pang of guilt shot through her as she did so. Guilt for believing that Delta might weasel away. Guilt for perhaps acting too soon, too impulsively. Guilt for perhaps throwing away what she knew was likely the only shot they'd have. Guilt for thinking anything other than Delta would be held accountable for what he did.

"Yes," Cynthia whispered.

Charlotte sighed. "I wish I could tell you something nice to hear. Wish I could say he'll get held accountable. I can't. But I'm here."

"Don't be here for me," Cynthia said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Gabriella's the one under the most stress. She's had to deal with Delta far more than I have."

"I know."

"I just want something to go right," Cynthia said.

Charlotte reached across the table and took Cynthia's hand into her own, squeezing it. A faint smile tugged at Cynthia's mouth, but it vanished as soon as it came.

"I don't want him to get away with it."

"I don't want him to either," Charlotte murmured. "We know he did it, and we're taking the steps we need to so he can be held accountable."

"We are," Cynthia echoed.

There was a problem with Delta, and she was taking action to try to fix it. She might not be able to undo the past but she could keep it from happening again in the future.

I'm doing something about it, Cynthia reminded herself.

xxxx

Later in the day, Cynthia flipped through documents, signing where needed but mostly staying updated on everything. Danzig Sterling sent an email, which Cynthia read through, fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater. They were working on tracking down the person who had survived the disease, they said, adding that they believed it to be true. Research into the disease itself continued as well and was moving along steadily. Soon, Danzig said in their email. I hope to soon have some sort of treatment, although it will need all the testing.

Cynthia minimized Danzig's email and pulled out the letter she received from Delta's lawyers. She had stored it in front of everything else for easy access.

She had nothing against defense lawyers. She knew their intent— make sure their client got a fair trial and that the right person was found guilty.

But she still felt anger at the idea that they would even think to question Gabriella, much less actually do it. Cynthia knew it was their job, but she hated that they were going to pick apart everything, that they were going to pick apart the truth and try to twist everything in favor of Delta.

A few minutes later, Gabriella pushed through the door and then immediately shut it behind her, sagging against it and exhaling a sigh as she sunk to the ground and pulled her pink dress away from her shoes. Her chest rose and fell in rapid breaths.

"Are you alright?" Cynthia asked, shoving the letter into the first drawer she could find and then standing up. She walked around the mahogany desk and crossed the circular carpet, tugging on the hem of her sweater.

Gabriella didn't reply. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"What can I do?" Cynthia reached out a hand but pulled it back partway before she touched Gabriella. She didn't know if she had permission.

"Just-." Gabriella took a breath. "Just give me a minute."

"Ok."

They stood there in silence, and Cynthia sent Charlotte a quick text to not let anyone come into the President's Room unless it was an emergency. Charlotte responded with a brief ok.

Gabriella placed a hand on her chest and pursed her lips as she exhaled long and slow.

"Are you doing anything right now?" she asked.

Cynthia shook her head. "No. I'm here for whatever you need."

She did have things to do, but they could wait.

"Can I have a hug?" Gabriella looked up at Cynthia. Her mascara was smudged, and tears shone in her dark eyes.

"Of course."

Cynthia sat down beside Gabriella and let herself be pulled into a hug. Tears stung in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around Gabriella's shoulders and felt Gabriella's grip tighten around her sweater.

"I knew he would do this," Gabriella murmured, voice muffled, "but I still wasn't prepared."

Cynthia didn't know what to say. There were no words she could say that would make anything better. Nothing she could say could undo what was being done.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm here, and I believe you. I'll always believe you."

"I know." Gabriella adjusted her grip to hold on tighter to Cynthia's sweater.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"This is helping," Gabriella replied.

"We can stay like this for as long as you need."

"Ok," Gabriella whispered, voice lost in Cynthia's sweater.