Kelly
My eyes widened at the man’s accusation, the words hitting me like a slap. The father of the little boy who that witch who calls herself the Luna murdered!
For a second, I couldn’t breathe. My mind went blank, and then the memories of six years ago crashed into me all at once; the trial, the faces, the screaming and the way everyone had looked at me as if I were a monster.
And then I looked closer at him—really looked—and horror clawed its way up my throat.
He wasn’t lying.
The gaunt face, the rough stubble, the hollowed eyes. Goddess, I recognized him. Six years ago, when I’d stood trial for that boy’s death, he had been there— angry, broken and shaking with grief. His name was Paul. He’d spat at me, cursed me, and demanded that I be put to death for what he believed I had don
