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Forensics

Author: Juno Sparks
last update publish date: 2026-06-09 08:26:12

POV: RED

The morning light was gray and thin, filtering through the window to lay across the floor like a shroud. I was already awake. I had not slept. The sounds I had made, the cries I could not recall, echoed in the silence of my mind, a relentless soundtrack to my humiliation. He was asleep beside me, his breathing deep and even, the rhythm of a man without a care in the world. I slipped from the bed, my movements slow and silent, a ghost escaping its own grave. I did not look at him. I cou
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  • Red: Claimed by the Keeper in the Tower   The Geography

    The room was quiet, the only sound the soft, rhythmic breathing of the baby in her arms. Rosemary looked down at the small, perfect face, the dark, unfocused eyes, the tiny, bowed lips. The reality of her was overwhelming, a force of nature that had reshaped her world in a matter of hours.Enrique was sitting in the chair beside the bed, his elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on the baby. He had not spoken, his silence a respectful acknowledgment of the profound moment, the sacred space between mother and child."She has your eyes," he said, his voice quiet, a rough edge to it that she had never heard before.Rosemary looked from the baby to him, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. "They're dark. Like yours.""No," he said, his gaze meeting hers. "The shape. The way they see everything."She looked down at the baby, at the dark, curious eyes, and saw what he meant. It was not just the shape, but the quality of the gaze, a quiet, focused intensity that was both familiar and new.The do

  • Red: Claimed by the Keeper in the Tower   The Arrival

    The first contraction was a deep, pulling ache that started in her lower back and wrapped around her belly. It was not a surprise. She had been preparing for this with the same methodical attention she applies to everything, reading every book the doctor had provided, practicing the breathing techniques, studying the timelines of labor. The preparation served her and also did not cover the specific reality of what this was, which was large and consuming and entirely physical in a way that bypassed every layer of strategy and composure she had built.She was standing by the window, watching the rain streak down the glass, when the second one came, stronger than the first. She placed a hand on the windowsill, her breath catching in her throat. The preparation was a map, but the territory was new, wild, and untamed.Enrique was in the other room, his voice a low murmur on the phone. She did not call out to him. She walked to the door, her steps measured and deliberate, and opened it. He

  • Red: Claimed by the Keeper in the Tower    Waiting

    **POV: Red**The days settled into a rhythm I didn't trust at first, because peace had never once meant safety in my life. But the suite stayed quiet, the city's hum a distant thing beyond the glass, and slowly I stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop.I sat with the waiting the way I'd never let myself sit with anything before. Not planning an exit. Not counting the steps to the door, or clocking how many guards stood between me and open air. I just waited, and God, the simplicity of that nearly undid me more than the courtroom had. No countdown ticking toward a verdict. No boots in the hallway to track. No calculations running like static beneath every breath I took.Just time. Unfolding at its own pace. Asking nothing of me but to be present in it.The lawyers had done their part. Cruz's people had done theirs. The final paperwork on my exoneration was supposed to land any day now, official, stamped, undeniable. And underneath my ribs, the baby rolled, slow and lazy, like she h

  • Red: Claimed by the Keeper in the Tower   The New Texture

    **POV: Red**Gray light bled through the curtains, weak and cold, painting the room in shades of ash. I'd been up for over an hour, coffee gone lukewarm in my hands, watching steam curl up and vanish while the city stretched awake beneath the window. Sleep hadn't come easy. It never did anymore, but last night had wrecked something in me that even exhaustion couldn't touch. I kept replaying it, turning the memory over like a coin I couldn't decide whether to spend or bury.Cruz's door opened. His footsteps were near-silent on the thick carpet, controlled the way everything about him was controlled, but he stopped when he saw me. Just for a second. A hitch so small most people would've missed it.I didn't miss it.He recovered fast, moved to the coffee machine like nothing happened, his jaw locked tight around whatever he wasn't going to say out loud. I watched the muscles there flex once, twice, and wondered how many words he was swallowing down with his silence.Neither of us mention

  • Red: Claimed by the Keeper in the Tower   The Verge

    **POV: Red**The suite sat dark and quiet as a held breath. I lay on top of the covers, still dressed, because getting under them felt like agreeing to sleep and I wasn't going to sleep, not with that paper on the nightstand staring at me like it might change its mind.*Innocent.* Legally, anyway. Officially. In ink.I turned my head and looked at it. Pale rectangle in the dark, corners catching the thin strip of streetlight that made it past the curtains. Somewhere below, the city kept doing whatever cities did at two in the morning, its noise ground down to almost nothing, like even Manhattan needed a minute sometimes.I didn't need a minute. I needed to not be alone with the day I'd just had.I'd been staring at the ceiling for two hours, running the math over and over. Judge. Envelope. Confession. My name cleared on paper while everything underneath it stayed exactly as dirty as before. And the whole time, underneath all of that, one fact kept surfacing like a body that wouldn't s

  • Red: Claimed by the Keeper in the Tower   Legal and Emotional Wreckage

    **POV: RedThe suite was too quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed against your eardrums until you noticed your own heartbeat. I sat on the sofa with a book open on my lap, some paperback thriller I'd picked up because Cruz thought I needed distraction. I hadn't turned a page in twenty minutes. My eyes were fixed on the window, on the gray smear of city beyond the glass, but I wasn't really seeing any of it.Cruz was in his office. Door shut. I could hear the low hum of him working, the click of keys, the occasional murmur when he answered his phone, all of it muffled like it was happening underwater. He'd been giving me space all morning, which meant he knew something was coming even before I did.The knock came sharp and businesslike. I didn't move. A moment later, one of the men let her in, and I heard the click of heels against marble, crisp and precise, the same rhythm I remembered from the first time she'd walked into this life and turned it upside down.Elise Dubois didn't wait

  • Red: Claimed by the Keeper in the Tower   The Red and the Tower

    POV RickI do my best thinking at this window.It's a habit I picked up in my first year here, standing before the facility wakes up, when the yard is still bruised grey and the water beyond the northern wall is flat and colorless and the whole island sits in that specific pre-dawn quiet that belon

  • Red: Claimed by the Keeper in the Tower   The Washing Room

    POV RedThe communal bathing facility runs on a schedule dictated by supervision gaps rather than cleanliness. Three times a week, ten minutes each, under the sting of cold water and the same caustic lye soap used to scrub the stone floors.I enter on a Thursday morning with five other women. Two o

  • Red: Claimed by the Keeper in the Tower   The Cost of Survival

    POV RedI'm considering how to engineer that when I notice Tomás Arrieta. He's a younger guard, dark-haired, with a posture that tries to be authoritative but only lands about sixty percent of the time. He's appearing in my section of the yard with a frequency that has nothing to do with his rotati

  • Red: Claimed by the Keeper in the Tower   Arrival

    POV RedThe iron gate doesn't echo; it lands. It's a heavy, metallic period at the end of a sentence I didn't get to write. I file the sound away and walk.Inside, the fortress is a masterclass in inescapable geometry. Salt-crusted stone walls, three feet thick, curve inward at the top like they're

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