Three weeks later, Duke stood in a federal courthouse watching Marcus Keane—the man who'd called himself Connor Reynolds—accept a plea deal.
Life without parole. Three consecutive sentences. Murder, fraud, conspiracy, assault on a federal officer.
He'd never see the outside of a prison again.
"The defendant will be remanded to federal custody immediately," the judge said. "Sentencing hearing in thirty days, but given the plea agreement, the sentence is predetermined."
Duke watched as marshals led Marcus away. The man looked smaller now, broken. His eyes found Duke in the gallery one last time.
No words. No threats. Just hollow acceptance.
Then he was gone.
"It's really over," Valentina whispered beside Duke, her hand in his.
"Yeah." Duke stood. "Let's go home."
Outside the courtho
