KAT
Breaking Chains
The meeting hall smells like old wood and flowery perfume, two hundred and forty-seven women and girls packed into a space meant for half that number. They cluster in groups defined by age and status—young mothers with babies on hips, teenagers trying to disappear into walls, elderly women who've survived decades of this s**t sitting ramrod straight in folding chairs. Every single one watches me like I might bite. Or worse, like I might be exactly what their men warned them about.
"Morning, ladies." I settle onto the edge of the stage, deliberately casual, legs swinging like a kid at a picnic. Janet takes position to my right with her tablet ready, while Cheryl claims the left with her clipboard. "I'm Kat. The big scary alpha female your menfolk are probably losing t
