Chapter 3: Rising Action
The guards, their faces like slabs of granite, grinned sadistically as they tore the defendant's shirt from his body. The fabric ripped easily, buttons pinging off like tiny projectiles, as if eager to escape the scene of the crime. The defendant's chest heaved with a deep, shuddering breath as the cold air hit his skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. He clenched his teeth, his jawline hardening like a chiseled statue, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of vulnerability, swiftly extinguished.
The guards were merciless, their hands rough and calloused as they yanked off his pants, leaving him standing in nothing but his underwear. The cool air of the courtroom caressed his heated skin, and he could feel the gazes of the crowd, heavy and invasive, like a physical touch.
The larger of the two guards, a mountain of a man with a scar slicing through his eyebrow, sneered. "Let's see what we've got here," he growled, fingers hooking into the waistband of the defendant's briefs.