The judge's gavel cracked, a sound so final it seemed to suck the air from the room. Adjourned. The word was a verdict in itself, a life sentence and a beginning all at once. The fragile, defiant energy that had carried me through my speech vanished, leaving me hollow and trembling in its wake. The guards moved in, their hands firm on my arms, steering me away from the table. This was it. The walk back to the cage.
But before they could get me through the side door, a figure cut through the dispersing crowd like a shard of black ice. Anya Volkan.
She planted herself directly in my path, a storm of silk and shattered composure. The raw, animal grief on her face was a terrifying thing to behold. "You lying witch," she spat, her voice a low, venomous tremor that cut through the residual courtroom buzz. "You stand before God and this pack and spew such filth about my dead husband! You think your pretty words change what you are? A murderer!"
