OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: OF VERDICTS, GHOSTS, AND THE DAY TRUTH STOOD

Then Bianchi rose.

"This was meant to be a legacy event," she said smoothly. "But the Ardent Court used it as performance theatre. They painted us as villains. I have reason to believe this was a political maneuver—engineered to discredit us before midterms."

Theatrics. Of course. Blame the ones who survived.

Tofer didn't wait to counter.

"Timeline breach registered seven minutes prior to phase start. Primary trigger identified as trap protocol B-5...assigned to Ortega." A beat. "Your signature is hardcoded, Lucian. The field logs don't lie."

Then Alexie's veil shimmered. And the gym feed exploded onto the wall.

Freeze-frame. Two first-years. One unarmed medic. One map tech. All of them cornered in a kill zone.

"That's what your 'field test' almost hit," Alexie said, her voice sharp as broken glass. "They weren't even players. They were volunteers."

Then Seb stepped forward with a scroll tube. Unrolled it slowly. Carefully. Like a bomb.

"Blueprints. Sovereign Chase terrain. Pulled from backup archives." He flipped the edge to show the embedded seal. It shimmered with code. "Rowan's signature. Still active."

Silence. Cold, clean, and terminal.

Lucian froze. Bianchi blinked once, maybe twice. Rowan looked like someone had just shattered his reflection and he was trying to glue it back together mid-fall.

Then the advisors started murmuring. Not discussion. Deliberation.

The Disciplinary Head leaned forward. "We move to discuss consequences."

Whispers turned to debates.

"Co-captaincy revoked."

"Three-week suspension minimum."

"Disqualification from next council term."

"Immediate expulsion."

"The High Chamber Review protocol."

The suggestions came fast. One by one. Their futures being bargained over like broken glass on a policy table.

Then KD stood. He hadn't said a word since the trial began. But when he did, it cleaved the room in half.

"What was supposed to be a sports week was turned into a battlefield." "And the battlefield was rigged. If they hadn't been stopped—"

He stopped. Because he didn't have to finish. Everyone in the room could see how that sentence ended. What could've been lost.

But the judgment didn't come from him.

It came from Lyle. He rose with zero fanfare. No warning. No permission. Just absolute clarity.

"We're dropping the case."

The whole room stilled. Even the Disciplinary Head. The Headmaster just smiled. He knew this will happen.

"Let them keep their seats. Their badges. Their pride." "We don't need a punishment." "They hunted us. Failed." "The truth of that weighs heavier than any ruling." "Let them sit in their seats—knowing we know."

No reaction from the Court. No applause. Just silence.

And that was louder than justice.

Bianchi—frozen. Rowan—seething. He wanted exile. Not this. Not humiliation. Lucian—blank. Like a name already erased from its own future.