Wronged

? 47 ?

Then another.

"Did the associate of Mr. Cardale's try to murder you as well?"

"How much horror were the young girls exposed to?"

"Do you feel at fault for your friends' and soulmate's near-death experience?"

"Is it true that you suffered a miscarriage?"

Aiden stops trying to shove us through at the sound of the last question, and my heart breaks a little at the mention. His eyes snap up to the male reporter in glasses, a threatening gaze in them.

"What did you just ask?" Aiden growls. The cameras are aimed at him, and I already know that some of them have just started rolling.

The reporter's eyes go wide and he gulps once. Aiden is about to step forward when I do first, making eye contact as I get in front of him. I don't know why I thought it would be a good thing to do, and I hope it is, but I wrap my arms around his torso and squeeze my eyes shut tightly.

"Don't listen to them," I say in a whisper so only he can hear. "This will look really bad, Aiden. I don't want this to affect what happens in there." My eyes glance to the large building amongst this mess.

I can tell he's staring at them all for a good while, and for a moment I'm afraid he's going to brush me off and take a swing at the guy. But he sighs and then wraps his arms around my small frame, kissing my forehead.

Usually I'd be embarrassed about this PDA stuff, but I now know it's good for trial cases. It'll make Aiden look like a lover and not a fighter. A boyfriend who was protecting someone he is emotionally attached to.

When we pull apart, most of the female reporters are giving us adoring expressions, while the men are neutral. It's sad that they don't understand what love is, the ones who aren't gushing. I was one of them once.

We finish pushing through, still with the press on our backs, until we get inside and shut the doors on their faces. He sighs and holds my hands with his, looking into my eyes with worry. It's completely silent in here, and it would be comforting if not for the guard standing there, ready to check me down for any weapons and such. The whole "security routine."

"Don't worry," I tell Aiden quietly, giving him a small smile. "I promise I'll say what I can to get you out, but I'm going to tell all of the truth."

He shakes his head. "That's not what I'm worried about, Anna. I couldn't care less about what happens to me. I just don't want you to have a panic attack in there, or answer anything you don't want to. I don't want you around jackasses who aren't there to be kind to you. I just don't want to leave you here."

My heart warms at his words, and I stand on the tips of my toes to peck his cheek. There's a slight stubble from not shaving for a few days, but nothing crazy. It tickles my lips.

"It'll be fine," I promise. "I'll be fine."

He sighs and looks warily at the security guard before going back to me. Reluctantly, he releases my hands. I grin. He trusts me. I'm glad he trusts me enough to take care of myself. And the final step to that is letting go. Albeit he only physically let go, but I think he released tension in his mind in the process.

"I'll be right out here in that car. I'm not letting Lyma leave anywhere without me in it," He says sternly.

I nod. "Okay. Just don't do anything or say anything to those reporters. Promise me you won't." I hold up a finger and raise an eyebrow.