Page 95 of Code Name: Atticus
Each word was a knife, and I deserved every cut.
“You both believed I could betray everything I’ve ever stood for.”
“I let evidence override instinct,” Atticus admitted, stepping forward. “And I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”
Luke’s laugh when he shook his head sounded sharp and bitter. “Damn right you will.”
“Luke, about Trevor…” I started.
“I already know,” he said flatly. “When they told me someone confessed to framing me, I figured it had to be him.”
“Look, I know I fucked up. You’re my brother, and I should’ve fought harder against your arrest. But if it weren’t for Atticus?—”
“Brenna, this can wait?—”
I put my hand on Atticus’ arm. “It can’t.” I turned back to my brother. “From the minute the FBI led you away, Atticus spent every minute proving your innocence. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t stop. His entire team worked through the night, tracking down every digital fingerprint Trevor tried to hide. They proved the evidence was fabricated, got Trevor detained at the airport, and had him confessing—all in less than twelve hours.
“The other thing that happened is Morrison, Liu, and Castellano were all taken into federal custody this morning. Your arrest triggered Trevor’s panic, and his confession gave us everything we needed to take them down.”
I watched as my brother fought with himself—the betrayal was still raw, but somewhere deep inside, he recognized the outcome of what he’d had to endure was that the real traitors were taken down.
“So you’re saying that at least my twenty-two hours of hell accomplished something?”
“I know it doesn’t do anything to erase the hurt I caused you…”
“We caused,” Atticus added.
Luke looked around at the cold walls of the corridor and ran his hand through his hair. “I need to get the fuck out of here.”
“We’ll take you home,” I said, looking over at Emma, who nodded.
Rather than stubbornly refuse the offer, he relented. “Thanks.”
We took a few steps, then Luke stopped.
“I want you to know that I hear what you did to get me exonerated, and I get it—all of it. But right now, I can’t just flip a switch and say everything is like it was before this happened. It will be, eventually, just not today.” His gaze met mine. “Okay, Bug?”
His use of the nickname he’d given me when we were kids felt like a small amount of forgiveness, of connection. “I’m sorry, Luke.”
When he opened his arms and I fell into his embrace, my eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
“So am I,” he whispered against my hair.
He let go, turned to Atticus, and extended his hand. The handshake was formal, contained—not the embrace of brothers, but not enemies either. Just two men acknowledging where they stood.
“Let’s go,” he finally said. “This place makes my skin crawl.”
We walked out together into the humid Virginia morning. Luke stood on the courthouse steps and turned his face toward the sun like he’d been underground for days instead of hours.
“I’ll go get the car,” Emma offered.
“We’ll go with you,” I said, not wanting to remain on these steps any more than Luke did.
We walked in silence, then took the elevator down three floors. Once Emma unlocked the doors, Luke climbed into the backseat with me while Atticus sat up front.
“Where to?” she asked.
