The metal door clanged behind him, sealing the echo of the holding cell in his spine. Brandon stepped into the narrow hallway, squinting against the harsh light. Freedom shouldn’t have felt this heavy.
The clerk slid a manila envelope across the counter—his watch, his wallet, his phone. “You’re free to go. For now,” she said, eyes flicking to the paperwork she’d just stamped.
He didn’t respond. He was too busy staring at the figure waiting by the exit. Julia stood there, arms crossed over her chest, coat still damp from the drizzle outside.
She’d actually come.
“Bail?” His voice was rough. “Who—?”
“Me,” she said simply.
Brandon froze. “You—what?”
“I covered what I could,” she added, avoiding his stare. “It wasn’t enough, but the officer said partial payment was acceptable until your
