Atticus rises and approaches the crescent, talking more to the assembled council than the crowd. I listen as he goes over the details of the case, going back years before the apocalypse. On an enormous screen behind the council, the evidence is presented, which includes ghastly pictures of Hunter’s kills.
They know he murdered dozens, if not hundreds, of people, but none of them knows why.
The first big twist comes when they call Brooke to the stand. I met her once when the Kept women tried to welcome me to their ranks. I ignored them, refusing to entertain a friendship with anyone from the Keep.
Brooke discusses her time on Salem Street with a club owner named Frank. She points to an image on the screen of the dead bodies found hanging, all of them are numbered. “I know Seven and Ten personally. They were ruthless, treating the girls as less than human. Some didn’t live through the abuse.”
She blots her eyes, stemming the tide of tears trailing down her porcelain cheeks.
My gut twists from the knowledge of what she’s been through, and it’s only made worse when Britney is called to discuss how her father sold her to Salem Street when they were trying to rebuild after Hunter’s massacre.
Their generosity to my cause is not lost on me. They’re trying to show Salem Street for what it was, which gives me hope that not everyone wants Hunter killed.
Alistair is called up next, and he describes how he’d tortured Britney’s father at Hunter’s suggestion. But he doesn’t seem to regret what he’s done. If anything, he speaks for Hunter, not against him.
Cole’s eyes fall on Amber, and she whispers into my ear, “It’s your turn.”
I hate what I have to do, but I know I have to do it, so I suck in a breath, rise from my seat, and walk midway between Hunter and Cole.
For the first time during the entire ordeal, Hunter reacts, jumping to his feet and snarling, “She has nothing to do with this.”
Cole must have expected his reaction because three big men come from behind to restrain him.
“Let her go!” he growls.
I can’t bear to look at him, so I face Cole.
“Do you have anything you’d like to say in Hunter’s defense?” he asks.
“No, nothing about Hunter. But I would like to tell you about myself.”
Cole looks to his right and his left, clearly frustrated.
Instead of waiting for permission, I begin. “When the dead flooded the city, I watched my mother die. Thankfully, my boyfriend was there to help me. I became dependent on him as the horrors of the apocalypse unfolded, never knowing that the monsters weren’t just outside. They were in the very apartment we shared.”
Words pour from me, detailing the selling of my flesh, and how it felt to be owned. I never speak of Hunter’s feelings, thoughts, or motives, but I tell them how we met and the list that I gave him of those who’d hurt me. Because that is a part of my story and my life.
The men shift uncomfortably in their seats as details emerge. Of how Caspian took me, used me, sold me to others. What happened to me is their greatest fear, because it could have been their Kept woman taken as they’d trusted each other without question.
When I’m finally done with my statement, the room is so silent you could hear a pin drop.
And while moments before my story I’d wanted to fall apart, standing here, in front of them, I’ve never felt stronger.
Cole rises from his seat, his face stoic and unreadable.
“I’ll be retiring to the command post to go over the details of the case against Hunter. We’ll reconvene tomorrow, and my judgment will be delivered.”
I feel numb. Hardly able to stand.
I look over my shoulder at Hunter. In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him so wrought with emotion.
“Can I see him?” I blurt. “Privately?”
The room fills with murmurs, and I can see that some of the men are clearly annoyed.
It’s because they want a chance with me.
Jokes on them because if I’m ever handed off to another, I’ll show them what Hunter taught me, and they’ll have to adjust to life without balls.
