Chapter 19
1006 Words
Chloe’s pov
The old thief knelt in chains in the center of the court, and Wylie circled him twice before she spoke a single word. Morning light cut through the tall windows of the court hall, harsh and unforgiving on his scarred face, and the whole room smelled faintly of the smoke still clinging to everyone's clothes from the chaos two nights running.
"I know this face." She stopped in front of him, arms crossed, studying the scar running from his temple to his jaw like she was matching it against a memory. "Garrick Voss. Wanted in three territories for armed robbery, and at least one killing that never got proven in front of a proper court."
A murmur moved through the gathered pack elders lining the walls, the whole room still tight with the alarm that had followed everyone from their beds hours ago. I sat near the front beside Alma, my hands folded in my lap to keep them from shaking, the bruise on my cheek still throbbing under a layer of powder Ray had insisted on before I'd been allowed to leave my room.
"You're mistaken." Garrick's voice came out rough, sullen. "Never heard that name in my life."
"Save it." Wylie crouched in front of him, unbothered by the chains or the sneer he aimed at her. "I chased you out of Thornfield territory myself two winters back. You're not half as forgettable as you'd like to think."
Nash stood near the dais, arms crossed, his jaw set in the same hard line it had held since he'd carried me out of that kitchen the night before. He hadn't said much all morning, but every time I glanced his way, his eyes were already on me, checking, like he expected me to fall apart again without warning.
"Bring the girl in," Nash said.
Two guards escorted her forward, and she looked smaller in the daylight than she had in the kitchen last night, her wrists bound loosely in front of her, her eyes darting toward Garrick like she still expected punishment for speaking out of turn.
"Tell them what you told me," Wylie said, gentler now than she'd been with Garrick. "About how you ended up working with him."
Tabitha's voice shook, but she didn't look away. "He found me two years ago, begging outside a tavern in Thornfield. I was eleven. He said he'd feed me if I helped him with a few jobs. I said no the first time. He broke my arm to make sure I understood what happened to girls who said no to him twice."
A ripple of disgust moved through the room. Garrick didn't bother denying it, his expression flat, like the accusation cost him nothing.
"Every job since, he's threatened worse if I didn't cooperate." Tabitha's chin trembled. "Said he'd break the other arm, or find someone in the next town who'd hurt me worse than he ever had. I didn't want to hurt anyone last night. I told him to stop, more than once. He wouldn't listen to me any more than he listened to her."
Nash's eyes cut to Garrick, and a cold weight settled over his expression. "You'll answer for both of them. The girl walks free of whatever charges the court considers, given the circumstances."
Wylie nodded once, already making a note on the parchment in her hand, and the guards pulled Garrick back to his feet to be led away, his sneer finally faltering under the weight of what was clearly coming for him.
That was when Megan stepped forward from the crowd, her chin lifted, her voice pitched to carry across the entire court.
"With respect, my lord, I think there's a larger issue nobody's addressing." She glanced my way just long enough to make her target clear. "Two attacks in one week, both centered around the new Luna. First the ball, now an armed break-in reaching all the way into the manor itself. Doesn't anyone else find that pattern troubling? Maybe her presence here is the real security risk this pack needs to examine."
The room went quiet in a different way this time, uncertain murmurs rippling through the crowd, a few elders exchanging glances that told me some of them were considering her words more seriously than I liked. I felt my face go hot, my hands curling in my lap despite every effort to stay composed in front of a room already primed to doubt me.
"That's enough, Megan." Alma's voice cut through the murmuring before it could gather any momentum, sharp and final, rising from her seat as she spoke. "A woman fought off a hardened criminal with her bare hands last night and you want to punish her for surviving it. Choose your next words very carefully."
"I'm only asking the question everyone's too polite to say out loud." Megan didn't back down, though her voice had lost some of its earlier confidence, her eyes darting toward the elders like she was hoping one of them might rescue her from the hole she'd already started digging.
"No." Jill stepped up beside her mother, arms crossed, her earlier warmth toward Megan nowhere in evidence. "You're not asking a question. You're trying to turn a woman who was attacked in her own home into the villain of the story, because it's easier than admitting Garrick Voss would have broken into this house whether Chloe lived here or not. This family has made its position clear more than once already. I'd suggest you stop testing how many more times we're willing to make it."
Megan's mouth opened, some retort visibly forming, and died there under the weight of Alma's stare and Jill's flat refusal to back down.
She glanced around the court for support and found none, several of the elders who'd been murmuring a moment ago now looking away from her instead, one of them shaking his head slowly like even he'd grown tired of her performance.
She retreated back into the crowd without another word.
- Writer
