Page 348 of Wicked Brutal

“I concealed it,” Ally says, and her voice is perfectly, deadly calm, “because I knew he would hurt me. Maybe badly enough to hurt the baby too.”

Arthur’s mouth almost moves. The attorney does not like that answer at all, because it’s the truth and it just went in the record in front of a judge.

He tries another angle. “Mr. Harrington also disliked your father.”

“Ryan hated what my father did to us.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Arthur is up again. “Objection. Counsel is badgering the witness.”

“Sustained.” The judge looks at Roman’s attorney over the top of his glasses, and his voice could freeze the room. “Counsel. Ms. O’Toole answered your question. You may dislike her answer. That does not entitle you to stand there and demand a different one.”

I could kiss that man.

The attorney’s neck goes red. He steps back and regroups and comes at it sideways. “Walter Harrington also disliked your father.”

Ally looks toward Dad. “Yes.”

“Mr. Harrington was involved in efforts to remove you and Tobias from your father’s home.”

“He was involved in helping us.”

“Helping you leave. With your father’s six-year-old son.”

Arthur rises. “Objection.”

“Sustained.”

The attorney reframes it, because he’s got exactly one card and he’s going to keep flipping it over. “Were you aware that the Harrington family wanted Tobias out of Roman O’Toole’s home?”

“Yes.”

“And you wanted that too.”

“Yes.”

“So you and the Harringtons shared an interest in portraying your father as dangerous.”

My ass comes halfway off the bench before I know I’ve moved. Dad’s hand clamps on my arm.

Mom grabs the other one. “Ryan,” she breathes.

Arthur is already on his feet. “Objection. Argumentative, assumes facts not in evidence, and mischaracterizes the witness’s testimony.”

“Sustained.” The judge’s expression has stopped being neutral. “Counsel, this is a pretrial evidentiary hearing, not an opportunity to harass a teenage witness about whether the people who watched the alleged abuse happened to dislike the alleged abuser. You will move on, or you will sit down.”

Roman’s attorney goes rigid. “Yes, Your Honor.”

I sit back. Barely. Mom keeps hold of my arm anyway, and honestly, she should.

Ally’s eyes come to me. I’m okay, they say. No. She’s not. But she’s still there. She’s still in that box and she hasn’t given him one inch.

The attorney tries the last thing he has. “You were angry with your father the night your mother died.”

“Yes.”

“You attacked him. Struck him. Repeatedly.”