Page 102 of Locked in Wonderland

“Yes.”

“What kind of weapon?”

Donovan frowned. “He had a… um… a metal bar.” He nodded enthusiastically, warming to the idea. “Yes. A metal bar. I don’t know where he got it. He must’ve found it. He came in waving it around, saying I had to let him stay or else.”

“Did you believe he would’ve used it if you hadn’t complied?”

Donovan shot me another guilty look. “I did.”

“So you feared for your life?”

“Yes.”

A dramatic gasp swept through the gallery.

I rolled my eyes.

“And what did the defendant do while inside your property?”

“He ate my food. He slept in my bed.”

Fucking hell. I was Goldilocks.

“And where did you sleep?”

“I stayed in a chair.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

Donovan shook his head.

The story had more holes than a sieve. Even if I’d somehow intimidated him with an imaginary metal bar, once I’d fallen asleep he could’ve easily overpowered me without breaking a sweat and thrown me back onto the street. It also failed to explain how he’d gotten me out of the house the following morning if I was so scary.

By now it was painfully obvious this courtroom—and I used the word courtroom in the loosest possible sense—had nothing to do with truth.

The Duchess came next. She spoke at length about my attempts to defraud her casino and claimed I’d cheated at one or more of the games. Considering I’d barely understood the rules, I couldn’t honestly say that wasn’t true. Given the rest of the testimony, though, I doubted facts had much to do with anything.

Proceedings paused after that.

Some of the audience took a bathroom break while Henry Hart wandered the room, chatting to people as if he were hosting a cocktail party.

Still no Nico.

Every time the courtroom door opened, hope flared inside my chest before dying just as quickly.

Where the fuck was he? Did he not know this was happening? Or did he simply not care?

The next arrival carried a metal bowl. I watched with growing revulsion as he handed it to Kellan, who filled it from a bottle on the table before placing it on the floor in front of his captive.

The man immediately shuffled forward and lowered his face into it. This clearly wasn’t his first time drinking from a dog bowl.

I wanted to look away, but it was like watching a car crash. How broken did someone have to be before something like that felt normal?

It was almost a relief when court resumed and I had something else to think about, even if it was my impending downfall.

The accusations only grew more absurd over the next hour until I couldn’t keep quiet any longer, meeting each allegation with increasingly acerbic comments.

Zane and Zeke took the stand together. This time, I was the one who couldn’t bring myself to look at them. They had no such reservations. Both wore identical smirks throughout.