“Did Hunter take you from Salem Street?”
Overwhelmed with shame, I look away.
When I don’t answer, she continues with, “We saw what you did. Before you came to the Keep, you’d just finished killing your ex. Now, I don’t know what went on between you two, but some people think you’re a psychopath, like Hunter. Others feel there was a reason you targeted him.”
“What woman doesn’t hate their ex?”
“Fiona, I’m being serious. If I’m correct, you don’t have to betray Hunter to help him. All you have to do is tell your story. The men here are fiercely protective of the women, and if they knew what you went through, or what I believe you went through, they’ll be more forgiving.”
A flicker of hope threatens to ignite.
Hope is dangerous.
Especially when it depends on me. I don’t even know if I can speak to the things that happened to me on Salem Street. I’m too damaged.
“I…I can’t…”
Realization lights Amber’s eyes. “You may not know this, but I was with a group called the Reavers before I came to the Keep. I was…passed around, beaten, kept from my son. I did terrible things. Things they shouldn’t forgive me for. But they have. Mostly.”
Her confession shocks me. I feel her pain as though it were my own.
Because it is my own.
“You think if I told my story, it could help him?”
“You tell me.”
The hope I’d dreaded expands, consuming my thoughts with what ifs and dreams I have no business dreaming.
Telling my story isn’t betraying Hunter. It’s terrible and mortifying and I hate that I have to, but it’s my story, and I’ll tell the world if it could give Hunter a chance.
Rising from my seat, I say a small prayer, begging for strength.
“I’ll tell my story, but don’t you dare ask me for Hunter’s. It’s not mine to tell.”
“Deal.”
Chapter 19
FIONA
Walking into the Judicium, I seek Hunter.
He’s sitting at a table in front of a half circle of desks. Cole sits across from him at the center of the half circle, glaring at him with hate-filled eyes.
If only they knew what I do. That Hunter isn’t the monster they think he is.
That he’s an angel on this earth.
I want to scream at the injustice. That these people should judge him infuriates me to my very core.
But Hunter wouldn’t want a scene.
Amber directs me to a seat next to the other Kept women. Many of them give me reassuring smiles, but their eyes show their pity.
It’s like I’m a widow at a funeral. No one knows what to say or how to abate my grief. They feel bad for me, but they’re glad that it’s me going through this and not them.
“Let’s get started,” Cole says once we’re seated.
