She wouldn’t be the one on trial.
We would. Maybe we already were.
CHAPTER 50
AVA - THELMA OR LOUISE
The crowd didn’t move.
They shouted. They chanted. They called out Remi’s name like it meant something bigger than all of us.
Because it did.
This wasn’t just about her anymore.
It was about every girl who’d been silenced.
Every survivor who never got justice.
Every woman who’d been told to lower her voice while the world looked away.
About abuse of power.
But the part that stuck in my chest, the part I couldn’t breathe around, was that none of it stopped the cuffs from locking around her wrists.
None of it stopped her knees from hitting concrete.
And now?
Now they couldn’t even get her to the damn transport vehicle.
Too many people. Too many signs. Too many reporters and cameras catching it all in real time.
The officers scrambled, barking orders, trying to wedge a path through a crowd that had grown too big to control. Too loud to ignore.
Erin looked like she wanted to scream.
Harlan looked like he already had.
Remi stood between them, stone-still, blood trickling through the grey from one knee. And even then, even bruised, bleeding, and shackled, she looked like the one in charge.
Reid muttered something to the lead officer and a few minutes later, they were walking her back into the precinct.
Temporary call for backup. Too volatile. Unsafe transport conditions.
That’s what they said.
What they meant was:the people are watching now.
I stayed outside.
Let the crowd settle. Checked in with every patient I recognized. The young mom from the clinic waiting room who was still shaken. A retired school teacher who ran her afterschool literacy nights from the clinic.
A few reporters shouted questions, shoved mics in my face.
I ignored them.
I wasn’t ready to speak.
