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𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚊𝚕 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Summary: Juno has always been too ambitious. Biting off more than she can chew. Wanting to run before she’s even crawled. A game of cat and mouse between the main suspect in a serial killer case and herself has her reevaluating what side of the bench she belongs on.

Pairing: Roman Reigns (Roman Anoa'i) x Black Fem OC (Juno)

Warnings: Suggestions and talk of smut // Talk of murder, violence, genocide, rape, sexual abuse & sexual assault // Profanity // Slight grieving // Angst

Word Count: 5.8k

Inspo: No real inspo. It was just something about Roman in a cage that did something to me. And I rewatched Presumed Innocent on Apple TV and got in my detective bag lol.

A/N: I tried to not to be too graphic as I know a lot of people can’t stomach certain things. If you can watch an episode of Criminal Minds or Law & Order, then you should be good. Happy reading bitches!💗

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any media posted. Credit to their respective owners.

I do not consent to any portion of my writing to be reproduced or used in any manner without expressed written permission of myself, with the exception for the use of brief quotations.

This story is completely fictional. With the exception of OCs, I do not own any characters in this story. The pictures posted are for the intention of face claims and imaginative purposes. The ideas, stories, scenarios, and characters you are about to read about are a mixture of my imagination, and inspiration from real life whether it be loosely based on people I know or public figures. By no means should you take anything a character thinks, says, or does, as my way of expressing my own interpersonal beliefs and thoughts. The characters are themselves and I am me. Two completely separate entities. I am not trying to promote any lifestyle, ideas, or agendas throughout the book. I am simply telling a story. If you cannot grasp that concept, do not read any further.

“We’re gonna be right here the whole time. Listening to everything." Juno's direct supervisor and mentor, District Attorney Leah Williams, assured her nodding toward the numerous screens beside them. All with different angles of him. He hung from the top of the cage's bars, doing pull-ups from what she could see. She quickly averted her eyes back to Williams, not wanting to fixate on him too long. It was pointless as she was minutes away from being in the room with him face to face.

"Okay."

Williams rested loving hands on both of Juno's arms like a mother sending her child off on the first day of school would. Her eyes went big to make sure her apprentice heard and digested every word. "Its gonna seem like you're alone, but we're right here."

“I know,” Juno matched her head movements, nodding.

“He makes you uncomfortable—if he tries anything, you pull the plug. You understand?”

“This isn’t her first rodeo, Williams.” Both women smiled at one another. “I hand picked her myself,” Hunter Blanch, the Attorney General vouched for her. “She’s ready.” He threw a wink her way and her smile deepened.

Her mission was simple. Get him to confess. To trip up at the very least. And if he didn’t? If he gave her just one reason to believe he was innocent? She was going to do what Juno always did. Follow her heart.

She’d have to make the impossible decision of whether or not she would represent him. Being the newest and youngest to join the Oakland County Prosecuting Attorney’s office, the answer should’ve been clear. Hell no.

Not only is it a conflict of interest, given her current role as an Assistant District Attorney, supposed to be representing the state; but she also didn’t know in her heart if she was even capable of defending the opposition.

Fresh out of law school two years ago, after getting eaten alive in the courtroom on one of her first cases as a Defense Attorney, she vowed to never switch teams again. It scared her right into working for the government, where she deemed it safe. But safe was just so unfulfilling.

And with this particular case and this particular suspect, she already knew. It was suicide. She couldn’t afford for her fresh career, working with the government now, to take such a hit. They’d lose. Get blown out. Her career would be over before it even started and no one would take the young, black, female attorney seriously ever again.

On the off chance that they did win, with all the attention the case has already gained, she’d be branded a legend at just twenty-eight. Her mind rewound back to just minutes ago, walking up the steps of the holding facility, trying to finesse her way through the crowd of reporters and protesters alike. National and local news stations with cameras and microphones shoved in her face. Blanch gave a brief statement.

“The Oakland County detectives have been more than diligent in finding the monster who’s responsible for the death of nineteen young women, right here in Michigan. The DA’s Office plans on doing the rest. Thank you, everyone.”

Juno fantasized about what it would look like to defend him. They’d talk about this case for years to come. Like the OJ trial. Casey Anthony. They already seen her face and knew her name. Juno Accardi. The young apprentice going in to slay the beast. But what if she was the young apprentice going in to tame it? Free it?

It was a textbook serial killer case. He was the perfect suspect. Roman Anoa'i. Thirty-eight year old, semi-truck driver, who grew up right in the heart of area of the murders. He knew the area. He knew most of the girls. Even grew up with some of them.

Never married. No kids. Lived a very isolated life. Spent most of his days on the road. Routine deliveries in and out of the city, across other midwestern states, and more importantly in and out of the Isabella Reservation, where all of the victims lived or were from.

Elise White. She was the first victim found over half a year ago. A Saginaw Chippewa tribe member who was born and raised on the Reservation, Sheriffs found her body on the side of I-75 after an anonymous tip. She was completely naked, covered in her own blood, and her silhouette was outlined with red orchids. Almost like the kind that you’d find on a Lei. She was stabbed over ten times and the coroner found evidence of sexual assault occurring before and after her death.

Nineteen. That’s the number of girls he did this to. They were almost always the same. Indigenous from the Reservation, unmarried, and anywhere between the ages of nineteen to thirty-seven. The Tribal Killer. That’s the name the public had branded him before he was even caught.

It took a while for the detectives to connect the dots, but they did. He was almost always alone, so he never had a solid alibi. He already had a record. The semi-truck was the perfect location to spend time alone with the victims. He fit the description of the anonymous man that everyone recalled seeing a number of the victims with. And the things the detectives found while raiding his home and truck, sealed the deal. He was guilty before they ever even considered him innocent.

It was an easy win for the state. So, Williams handed it down to Juno, hoping to help get her feet wet and make her mark. But a young and ambitious Juno saw it differently.

The night before, Juno stayed up almost until she saw the sun. Switching between a mug of black coffee and a glass of white wine. Files on top of files decorated her living room floor, the coffee table, her kitchen table and even some on the couch. All with the most minute, dark, gory and salacious details of the entire case from the very beginning. Victim one all the way to victim nineteen.

She read all of it. Once—twice—five more times, until it was burned into her memory like a fraternity member getting branded. Pictures of the victims pale-faced, naked and bloody all over her small high-rise. ME reports telling horror stories of the murders.

She didn’t know why, but she could feel it. She could feel them. All the women he killed. She dreamed about them. Saw each and every one of their faces clearly. Heard their voices. In some way it was like they were asking her to solve the case. Almost as if they were telling her that they had the wrong guy.

Williams always did warn her. She said every lawyer would get that one case. The one that would stick with them. The one that would make or break their career. They’d obsess over it. It would consume them. That’s exactly what was happening.

Juno could feel it in her bones. Whatever decision she made next would change the entire course of her life. For better or worse, was still unclear.

She hadn’t informed her colleagues, and especially not Williams her mentor, of the decision she dangled in her mind. She’d talk her out of it. Her position in the office would be in limbo for sure. No one likes a turncoat. Even the government and sleazy politicians despise that.

"Ma'am we ask that you stay at least six feet from the cage at all times. He shouldn’t be in the possession of any items, but in the unusual case that he is, we ask that you do not accept any items from him, nor offer any to him…" The armed guard recited like a robot. Juno zoned out after a while. She had heard all of these warnings before while visiting suspects. None like him, though. She didn’t know exactly how, but she could feel that he was different from the others.

After his speech the guard unlocked the steel door, but didn’t open it yet. Juno closed her eyes and breathed deep. In through her nose, out through her mouth. "Breathe, Ju," she coached herself. "He's just a man."

When she opened her eyes, the guard looked at her expectantly. She nodded, giving him the okay to open the door. Walking through it, the heels of her black stilettos echoed on the dark epoxy coated concrete like bombs.

The room was cold and black. So dark she couldn’t see how wide or far back it stretched, but every echo of her steps let her know she'd have serious ground to cover if she had to get out fast.

All she could see was him. A single light casted over the steel cage they had him confined in. The heavy door she came in slammed shut, causing her to jump and stop in place. Checking behind her for the guard was no use. She couldn’t see shit. She waited for the dramatic music of a horror film when the white blonde called out, "who's there?" It was fitting. But all she got back was the sound of her own heartbeat.

The man in the cage was unaffected. His rhythmic grunts continued as he pulled himself up and down from the bars atop of the cage. His tanned upper body shone from sweat, as it was uncovered, leaving his orange jumper falling around his waist. The entire left side of his body was burdened with the dark ink of tribal tattoos.

Juno pressed her mouth shut when it went agape watching the muscles in his back dance every time he pulled himself up. She took the last step to the cage that she felt she needed to, then took an extra step back to account for the six feet. On cue, he let go of the bars and landed on his feet with a slight thud.

A man his size looked unnatural behind bars. He was built like a superhero that could bend the bars to his will and escape if he wanted to. His muscles had muscles. Veins thick, protruding from his hands to his neck. His left hand shook and his towering frame turned in her direction, making her forget to breathe for a second.

He looked much different than the pictures the news had showcased for the past two weeks. His hair wasn’t as long, it was now shoulder length. His beard no longer clean cut, but thicker, untamed and scruffier. Still, it was like seeing the inside of the Vatican for the first time. He was beautiful. Almost in an ancient and haunting way.

“When they said they were sending in an attorney from the state,” he poked his plump lips out while shaking his head. The damp curls moving with him. “You are not what I had in mind, baby.”

He used the dangling sleeve of his jumper to wipe off his forehead and large hands. "I was thinking more like a man with a bald spot in a too big suit. Much like that piece of shit who came in here yesterday and said he would defend me."

His voice was hypnotizing. It was rough and somehow soothing. He was just above a whisper and still commanding. Juno hadn't realized how long she was watching his mouth until she saw his top lip curl into a smirk.

"Huh?" She asked, not even knowing if he said something else.

The light chuckle that left him, made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "What is your name?"

"…Juno… Juno Accardi."

"Italian?"

"My father is, yes."

It was unnatural the way he disarmed her that quickly. Just a minute ago she was planning an emergency escape route and suddenly he finessed her name and heritage in under thirty seconds. She snapped upright, reminding herself of not just the circumstance, but just how charismatic and charming serial killers could be.

She squatted to drop the briefcase she forgot she held at her feet. She could feel his eyes sticking to her with every move as she pulled out the file that had all the most recent details of the upcoming trial and stood back at full height. Flicking through the papers, she gave herself a silent pep talk. It was showtime.

“Are you aware that they’re fighting to give you the needle?” He nodded. “So, then you know the severity of this case?”

“I’on really understand what all the fuss is about.” He crossed his muscular arms over his massive pecks, leaning a broad shoulder to the cage’s steel bars. “Now all of a sudden they care what happens to the indigenous? Just a few centuries ago a whole group of them came and did the same things. Raped and pillaged an entire culture.”

“Are you saying you chose Native women because you knew you’d get away with it? That no one would be looking for them anyway?”

He chucked to himself dodging her first attempt of an accusative left hook. “No, baby. I’m saying whoever did, knew no one would give a shit really. That they’d be able to get a few down before it ever caught any traction. Imagine their surprise when they see their work on CNN. Whole world in a frenzy about a bunch of indigenous women raped and murdered, when that’s always been the case. Fucking America.”

“You seem very passionate about the topic. Genocide.”

“I just pay attention, is all.”

“Attention to detail is a shared trait amongst most serial killers."

He laughed out loud this time. “Where’d you learn that, huh? That fancy law school teach you that? Oh no, wait. Maybe that expensive historically black college?”

His revelation of where she spent nearly five years studying criminology shook her. She kept her slim face unmoved as best she could. Still, an unspoken dance of cat and mouse lingered between them. He was limited to the bars of the cage, but it couldn’t be more obvious who was in control. Her thoughts were loud to him. He could see the exact moment he knocked her off her square.

“Like I said. I just pay attention.” He gestured his head slightly down and shot eyes to her briefcase that laid on the floor by her feet. The dainty HU’19 charm hung on the side. A gift from her mother who was also Howard alumna. She’s had the briefcase for years now. Latched the charm on the hook of the strap proudly. Still, she forgot most days that it existed there.

"So," he continued placing two large hands out on the bars in front of him. "You're the pretty bitch that’s gonna prove to everyone that I killed those girls." She wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement. "The one that’s gonna get me killed." Juno didn’t even flinch at the name she was called. She had heard far worse in her line of work.

"Actually…" She licked her lips that somehow became dry. "I wanna help you."

Blanch crossed his arms, locking eyes with Williams. The lead detective on the case, Rich Wheatley, squinted at the screens before him. "What is she doing?" Wheatley asked them.

“Easy, boys. She’s just building rapport. Trust tactic,” Williams assured Blanch and the officers watching the screens with her as the energy in the room became uneasy. Although, in her mind she feared the young girl had gone rogue. She was always too ambitious for her own good. She silently prayed that all her guidance and wisdom was enough to steer her in what she saw as the right track. She had handed Juno, a fellow black woman in a white, male-dominated field, the perfect opportunity. She had no idea Juno had plans to fumble it.

Roman raised a thick eyebrow. Juno tried her best not to stare at the distracting, protruding veins on his arms, still visible from his workout. "That’s not why they sent you in here."

She shook her head. "No. No its not. But I'm doing it anyway."

“You don’t think I did it.” He stated more than inquired, like he already knew the answer.

“I don’t think you’re entirely guilty. But I also don’t think you’re innocent either.” Something between a scoff and a chuckle left him.

“I like you Juno.” He spoke her name like he knew her all his life. His darks eyes lazily scanned her entire silhouette, eliciting goosebumps to form on her skin. She silently thanked her past self for choosing the long-sleeved button up. He wasn’t hiding the deliberate hard stop on her semi-exposed breast. A thick tongue snaked out to lick his pink bottom lip. “You’re the exact type I would go for…”

“Go for?” Her brows pinched together.

“To fuck,” he clarified. Her heartbeat quickened. “Late night at a bar. Young, ambitious, studious woman unsure of herself, that likes to bite off more than she can chew.” He set the scene for her and every word he spoke had her hanging off the edge of her seat, ready to lean into the steel bars. There was underlying sex appeal in every word he spoke. Everything about him was erotic. “Your line of work gets pretty hectic. Long days and long nights. Probably in there just trying to let a load off. I’d come up and offer you a better way to relieve the tension.”

Juno couldn’t help but to visualize the picture he painted of them. "I wouldn’t take you to my house. Nah, I wouldn’t be able to wait that long for it. I'd buss it down right in the parking lot. Bend you over on the side of the building." Williams shook her head as she fought the urge to pull the plug herself.

“You have a very nice face. Big eyes. Naturally pouty lips,” he told her before biting on his own. “I'd have to turn you around just to watch it. Wouldn’t wanna pull out but I would. Finish right on that pretty face.”

Juno swallowed the lump in her throat and nearly choked from it being so dry. Such vile words surely shouldn’t have aroused her. But no client had ever elicited these kinds of emotions from her. A murderer. It was forbidden territory.

In school she’d read about girls falling for these kinds of men. Writing them love letters as they rotted in a dirty cell. Showing up to trial in skimpy clothing to get the accused’s attention. Bundy had a whole fan club. An eighty year old Manson got married while incarcerated for some of the most heinous crimes America has seen. Women can be very strange. The things they become attracted to can change the entire course of their life and alter their psyche.

Although eliciting an most foreign feeling, Roman’s words were not foreign to her ears. She’s heard worse. Clients getting frustrated and threatening her. A prisoner she visited to conduct research having a manic episode, giving her a play by play of how they would slit her throat and then have their way with her dead body.

Ignoring the friction of her now stiff nipples on the fabric of her lace bra, she cleared her throat before speaking up again. “Is that how you got Laura Bernard?” Victim number eleven. A young single mother left her only son with her sister to go out to a bar for a drink and never came back. A week later her body was found stabbed multiple times with evidence of sexual assault. Her silhouette outlined with red orchids. Just like the ten unlucky victims before her.

The bartender and other patrons in attendance recalled seeing her talking with a large man. Not pale enough to be Caucasian, they said. They were seen leaving together. No one could remember the mystery man’s face or any other distinct details about him. The eyewitnesses were unreliable anyway. They had all been intoxicated the night of the incident.

The significance of Laura Bernard to Roman? He admitted to the officers that brought him in, that he had slept with Laura before. Just not the night of the murder. And still, he was not budging on the declaration that he did not kill her.

Juno studied his every move, waiting for a sign or some type of reaction from hearing the victim’s name. But there was no glint in his eye from reliving the murder. No twitch of his eyebrow. No rubbing of the hands. Not even that devilish smirk showed itself. Nothing.

“I’ve told the story before.” His head shook, already growing bored of reciting the same confessions. The same monologue. It was rehearsed at this point. “I met Laura at a gas station. I was making a stop to fill the semi up. She was looking for a ride into the city. I gave it to her. Told her it was free of charge. Still, she offered to give it up. I’m a grown ass man so I took it.”

“And Alyssa Haskie?” Juno pushed. Victim number eight. Nineteen year old college student home for the holidays. Went out for a late night jog and never made it home. Same fate as the others. Stabbed repeatedly with signs of sexual assault before time of death and postmortem. Corpse decorated with red flowers.

“That little bitch lied to me about her age. I don’t fuck girls who's age ends in teen. I prefer grown women.” He looked down with just his sly eyes. “The ones that wear stilettos to work.”

She shook her head, trying to stay on the road she set out, even with his constant veering.

“You knew seven of the nineteen victims. Admitted to sleeping with at least five of them. You do understand why you are the number one suspect, right?”

“The reservation is small. I come in and out all the time to deliver them shit from the city. And yes, I like to have a little bit of fun when I'm not on the clock. I get around. Is that a crime, Juno?”

“Depends. You like to have this fun before or after they take their last breath?” He ran a hand down his thick beard.

“That’s a question I'm not answering. Besides, I read that the killer does both.”

Juno crossed her arms. “You seem to know a lot about the crimes you didn’t commit.”

“Now why would I not read up on the monster y'all are accusing me to be? I’m in here all day. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. It makes the time go faster.”

Juno’s eyes bounced around the floor and her pointed heels, thinking of another angle. For every question, he had a reasonable answer. Every jab she attempted, he blocked it. He was a tough one.

“Elise White. She was your first?” Victim number one.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at when you say first.”

“Girlfriend.” She switched after he blocked another accusative jab.

“Yeah. She was." He confirmed. "My father worked with some of the sheriffs on the reservation. I spent my junior and senior year of high school living there. Going to school there. Its where we met.”

Juno nodded already knowing the story. The first victim is almost always emotionally motivated. There’s usually history there. Most times it’ll be the key to solving the entire case.

“Why’d you two split?”

A deep chuckle carried in the spacious room. He ran his long fingers through his wild beard. “You really wanna know?”

“I’m asking aren’t I?”

“…She had a lousy sex drive.” Juno sighed deeply. “I wanted to fuck everyday. Sometimes multiple times in a day. She didn’t. We broke up.” He shrugged. “Probably should’ve kept her around though. Elise was smart. Resourceful. Cooked her ass off. Would’ve made a decent wife. Shame.” As his head shook he developed a genuine look of solemn. Mourning almost. Brows pinched and jaw tight, he looked down at his feet for the first time.

“The agents that brought you in, they searched your truck and your home. Found some very interesting things.” Roman’s head cocked to the side, tapping his slender fingers on the bars, seeming almost anxious for her to recite the items recovered. “Handcuffs. Rope. Chains. Gags…” Juno pressed her lips together, not wanting to continue.

“Go on, baby. What else did they find?”

Juno’s mouth opened then closed. Flashes of the evidence photographed swarmed her mind. She imagined him sniffing them, holding them tight in his large hands, and even biting them. “…Women’s underwear. Over a hundred pairs.” It made her sick to her stomach, that every pair could've represented a victim.

“What color panties are you wearing, Juno?” He questioned in almost a whisper.

Her name rolling off his deviant tongue was the most erotic thing she had ever heard with her own ears.

Juno shifted her weight to the other leg. She was sure he could hear her heartbeat. It thrummed through her ears as her face grew hot. She's never been more grateful for her mother’s genes supplying her with Hershey colored skin.

“You seem like the type to not even wear any,” he continued. He sucked in a sharp breath and groaned with closed eyes. “Mmm.” He practically growled.

“We’re getting off topic.”

“I like that. Easy access,” he ignored her. ”But I have a thing for the lace ones. Red. My favorite color.”

“Like the flowers you left around your victims?” She countered.

His tongue rested outside of his mouth, toying with the hairs of his mustache. "Nah," he finally answered.

Still nothing. Unfazed. Stoic. No daze of daydreaming about the acts he committed. No emotion other than pure arrogance. So, she pulled her last trick out of the hat.

“Where were you on the night of March twentieth?”

Silence covered the room like a blanket. She was going for the big knockout. Victim number nineteen. The reason they had enough for a warrant. The reason where he laid his head was raided by dozens of heavily armed agents.

Even if by some ridiculous miracle, he didn’t lay a menacing hand on none of the other victims, she was sure he had something to do with her death. Naomi Nodin.

“You know where I was.” His dark eyes told a thousand stories. It seems her thoughts weren’t the only ones that were loud now.

Their eyes danced in a silent battle. He wasn’t going to offer more than she asked for. She had to press him.

“Neighbors said they heard screaming. Two people yelling in a jealous rage. Loud noises. Glass even.”

“That’s a big swing you attempting at, baby. You sure you’re ready for that?” He squinted.

“When the police arrived, there was no glass. No mess. No signs of struggle. Whoever killed her, knew her. She let them in. She wasn’t afraid.” He slid his interlocked fingers back and forth between each other, breaking eye contact.

She had something. His entire disposition changed. Naomi meant something. Either that or the that night was just traumatizing for him. She understood. A woman he was intimate with, dead just minutes after seeing her. Guilty or not, over a dozen armed detectives busting down your front door and dragging you out of bed at two in the morning could shake anyone.

“I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me.”

Against her own will, the pictures taken of Naomi's lifeless face flashed in her mind. Her breath picked up and her eyes began to sting.

“Uh oh,” he teased. “What was that?”

“What was what?” She blinked rapidly as her nose flared.

“That,” he nodded in her direction. ”Did you? You knew her?"

Juno opted for silence, leaving him to form his own conclusions. The little voice in her head, screamed for her not to do this, but her heart was telling her otherwise.

“She told me about a man she was seeing. Slightly older. A truck driver. Not her usual type. No, she usually went for the big fish. Lawyers—doctors—politicians that preferred exotic women. And not even a week later…she's murdered, right on her kitchen floor."

Williams inspected the girl, watching everything play out from a TV screen. She was unaware that her young apprentice Juno knew the latest victim. She would’ve never gotten the case otherwise. Conflict of interest. Maybe she was deceiving him on purpose? Trying to make it more personal to get him to slip up? She threw up two hands to let an even more perplexed Blanch know she didn’t know what was going on.

"You told the detectives you two were dating?"

"That’s right."

"Were you aware that you weren't the only man she was dating?"

He flashed a daunting smile. "That doesn’t mean anything to me."

"So, that’s not why you two were arguing that night? You didn’t go there to confront her about sleeping around with other men? Better men?" Juno knew she was prancing in dangerous territory. Men like Roman didn’t do well with inferiority. He only laughed lowly to himself, shaking his head. "Just tell me the truth," she encouraged.

"I did not kill her," was his only response.

"You snapped. You didn’t realize what you did. You didn't mean for it to go that far." He shook his head and ran two large palms over and down his silky curls. "You were the last person to see her alive. Your fingerprints all over her-- the kitchen. Your DNA, left inside of her…"

His mouth twitched like he was fighting the urge to grin. It didn’t matter that he didn’t, because his brown eyes smiled for him.

“I didn’t kill Naomi…”

“Then you know who did.”

“Nope. Don’t know that either babygirl. Once y’all find them though, go ‘head and thank them for me?”

“You were the last person to see her alive,” she restated ignoring his tasteless banter. She wasn’t amused. She thought she knew everything walking in here, but he’s twisted her brain like a pretzel now. Playing mind games. Showing her different routes, opening doors she hadn’t seen before.

“The last known person to see her alive.”

“The camera caught you leaving her house at exactly 12:06 a.m. on the ten second mark. Her estimated time of death was 12:07 a.m. Around the same time the neighbors said they heard her dog barking.” She recited the details of the case like a preacher would the Bible. “If someone did come in through a window or the back, that leaves only a seventy second or so window for the murder to take place.”

Roman shrugged. “Well, how long does it take to stab a person to death and throw a bunch of flowers around them? Not impossible.”

The silence was long and eerie. At least for Roman. He squinted at the woman on the other side of the bars. Her thoughts were loud before and her anxiety draped around her like a shawl. Not now though. Something shifted. She wasn’t looking at him. Anyone watching would think so, but he could see that she was looking through him, her mind racing about something else. Her wheels spinning.

He didn’t know it, but his last words had just made Juno’s decision for her.

“Of course,” she finally responded with no inflation in her voice.

Bending at her knees she picked up the briefcase to shove the folder back into it. Face contorted, he eyed her the whole time as she packed up and turned on her high heels.

“Well?” She stopped and only turned her head hearing his authoritative voice. “You taking the case or what?”

She hesitated. Williams and Blanch were already on their way down to meet her on the other side of the steel door. She sucked in a deep breath, preparing herself for all the dominoes ready to fall.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Juno's adrenaline kicked up full speed at her own words. It was for real now. She came in as the rookie attorney they used as bait, and she was leaving out as something else. It was a rebirth of some sort.

Walking with the guard down the hallway, she could see them at the other end, like an army coming full speed to obliterate their open enemy. She hadn't prepared for this. She didn’t think she would've made it this far.

Blanch and Williams marched to her, escorted by several guards. She tried her best not to cower at the heavy stares. Williams in particular beamed daggers at her like a mother who just left the parent-teacher conference and couldn’t wait to dig in her kid's ass.

"What the hell happened in there?" Williams questioned fiercely, not even waiting until she fully reached Juno.

Juno's big eyes shot straight to Blanch. "I quit," she declared boldly.

"You what?" Willams laughed incredulously.

"I quit," she repeated, this time to her mentor. "I'm picking up his case." Juno knew she owed at least Williams a better explanation than that, but she couldn’t find one that didn’t sound rooted in personal gain or pure naivety. It wouldn’t matter anyhow. She took a step to get past them, but Williams planted a firm hand on the wall blocking her path.

"Are you absolutely insane right now?"

"He didn’t do it."

Blanch let out a snort. "And exactly what the hell did he say in there, to make you think he's innocent?"

"We never released to the public that Naomi wasn’t stabbed like the rest of them. The only people that know she was really strangled to death are us, the detectives, the coroner, the crime scene people and the killer." She looked between the two prosecutors who she revered deeply, but would have to go against. "If he was the killer, he'd know that." Juno ducked under William's arm, making a swift exit.

"Juno!" Williams called with remarkable bass. She halted in place but didn’t turn back around to face her. "You are making a big mistake. Think about what you are doing."

Well-behaved women rarely make history. Those were the words her mother recited to her on the day of her graduation. Juno was not like other women. Something she picked up about herself since she was younger.

While other girls were fussing and stressing over trivial, insignificant matters like marriage, when they would have kids, or if they should lose ten pounds before summer, Juno woke up with thoughts of getting ahead of the pack. She wasn’t like other women and she had no desire to be. She always felt her calling was much bigger than just fitting in and falling in line. So, she made the decision right then and there to walk a different path.

"I'll pick up my things tomorrow." And with that she strutted down the rest of the hall on her way to make history.

A/N: This was my first time writing something like this. Lmk if y’all liked it or if it even makes sense😂 I kinda like these characters…wouldn't mind writing about them again.

Also, the verdict is in lol. I'm already working on a part 2 and possibly part 3 for Biggest Fan. And I want to thank anyone who reached out after I had a mild crash out a couple days ago lol thank you for all the kind and encouraging words🫶🏽

If you read this or even a portion, I am extremely grateful. As always feedback is welcomed💗

💗taglist💗: @raya-hunter01 @trippinsorrows @minsingular @luvrsluxe @vynaissance

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