The applause started again, louder this time, hands clapping and boots stomping on the wooden floor.
River let out a piercing whistle that made several people jump, and X shouted, “You tell ‘em, baby girl!”
It made her smile. X and Grandma Ava would get along like two peas in a snazzy pod.
“I cannot promise to fix everything,” she said when the noise died down. “But I can promise this: I will never stop fighting. I will never forget those we’ve lost. And I will never, ever let another woman’s disappearance be dismissed as ‘just another runaway.’”
She stepped back from the podium, suddenly light-headed from the release of tension, from the enormity of what she’d just done. The crowd surged to its feet, the applause now a physical force that seemed to press against her skin.
Greta was there first, somehow across the space between them in an instant, her strong fingers wrapping around Naomi’s hand and squeezing.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For still caring about Alice.”
Naomi squeezed her hand back. “I’ve never stopped.”
Then Ava pushed through, her small frame somehow commanding space despite the crush of bodies. Her arms wrapped around Naomi in an embrace that smelled of sage and fry bread and home.
“My brave girl,” she whispered fiercely against Naomi’s ear. “Mary Rose would be so proud. I am so proud.”
Naomi closed her eyes, letting the words wash over her, letting herself believe, just for a moment, that she could actually do this. That she could change the system that had failed so many. That she could speak for the silenced, fight for the forgotten.
When she opened her eyes again, she searched the room for the one person whose opinion mattered most. Owen hadn’t moved from his position by the exit, his tall frame still as a sentinel while chaos swirled around him. But his eyes—thoseice-gray eyes that missed nothing—were fixed on her with an intensity that made her breath catch, even from across the room.
“Bold move, Lefthand,” Marshal Brandt said, appearing at her elbow with a rare smile. “Goodwin won’t know what hit him.”
“You really think I have a chance?” she asked, dragging her attention back from Owen’s steady gaze.
“I think Hank Goodwin’s worst nightmare is a competent woman who speaks for the people his department has systematically ignored,” Brandt replied. “And if the turnout in this room is any indication, you’ve got a fighting chance.”
The crowd pressed in, hands reaching to shake hers, voices overlapping as people offered congratulations and support. Naomi felt herself smiling, nodding, thanking them, but it all blurred together in a rush of adrenaline. She hadn’t realized how terrified she’d been until the words were out, until she’d publicly thrown her hat into the ring against the most powerful man in the county.
What had she done?
She caught sight of Eddie Padilla making his way toward her, his weathered face solemn but determined. When he reached her, he didn’t speak, just pulled her into a tight hug that smelled of motor oil and grief.
“Leelee would’ve loved this,” he said when he finally released her. “You fighting for her, for all of them.” His voice caught. “Carina and I, we’re behind you all the way.”
“Thank you,” she managed, throat tight. “That means more than you know.”
As Eddie moved away, Naomi felt a familiar tingle at the base of her neck. She turned, already knowing who she’d find. Owen hadn’t joined the crush around her. He remained apart, watching, his face unreadable to most – but not to her. She saw the pride there, the fierce protectiveness, the concern.
She excused herself from a conversation with one of the tribal council members and made her way toward him, accepting handshakes and shoulder squeezes as she moved through the crowd. When she finally reached him, the noise seemed to recede, as if they existed in their own pocket of quiet despite the chaos surrounding them.
“So,” she said, suddenly shy. “That happened.”
“It did.” His voice was low, meant only for her. “All fury and no sense.”
The familiar phrase, once an accusation, now carried something like affection. She bit her lip, uncertainty flooding back.
“Is this the right thing?” she asked, searching his face. “Taking on Goodwin, stepping into the spotlight like this? After everything with Julius, with the trafficking ring?—”
“It is,” he said without hesitation. “You’re going to win, and you’re going to change things for the better.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can.” His lips quirked in that almost-smile she’d come to treasure. “I’ve seen you in action, remember? If you can change me for the better, Goodwin doesn’t stand a chance.”
A laugh bubbled up, surprising her with its lightness. “You’re biased.”
