Page 11 of The Advocate’s Ultimatum

“Something interesting,” Sabre said.

Bay waited.

Sabre slid a piece of paper across the table.

Bay glanced down at it. Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes lingered on the name printed at the top, Joy Bay Ridden. She pushed the paper back.

“That’s not me.”

JP said nothing.

Sabre studied her carefully. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Sabre cocked her head. “That birth certificate was filed two years before the one for Lila Mercer.”

Bay shrugged. “Lots of people have the name Bay.”

Sabre leaned forward. “Not many fifteen-year-olds with delayed birth certificates filed in neighboring counties.”

Bay didn’t answer.

Sabre let the silence stretch.

Finally, the girl said quietly, “Are you trying to prove I’m lying?”

“No,” Sabre said. “I’m trying to understand who you are.”

Bay looked directly at her. “You already know.”

“No,” Sabre said gently. “I really don’t.”

Bay’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second. “My name is Bay.”

“Just Bay?” Sabre asked.

“That’s the only one that matters.”

JP spoke for the first time since they sat down. “Did someone give you that name?”

Bay turned her eyes toward him. “Everyone gets their name from someone.”

JP held her gaze. “Yes,” he said. “But not everyone gets a new name every few years.”

For the first time, Bay looked uncertain.

A crack in the armor, Sabre thought.

Bay recovered quickly. “You think you know everything.”

Sabre shook her head. “I don’t know much of anything. That’s why I’m struggling. It would help if you would tell me more about yourself.”

Bay didn’t respond.

“Who gave you the name Bay?” Sabre prompted.

The girl said nothing, but her silence said something else—loyalty.