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The councilwoman sneers at Adrian. Like the sight of a bound man turns her on. Yet another reason to hate her. There is definitely something in her eyes as she stares down my husband, bloody and broken before her.
This baby is my only leverage right now. If they know of its existence, then they might want me dead regardless. If I confess it and force them to make a deal with me, then I might be able to keep the little one safe.
“I do have a confession, Councilwoman, but only if you make a deal with me.”
Her beady eyes narrow as she scans me from head to toe. “Let me guess, you want me to save your lover?”
I flick my hand toward Adrian. “Save him from what? His mouth? Once you hear my confession, you’ll have no choice but to find him innocent and release him anyway. I know you guys follow your own rules here, but to kill him unjustly without provocation? Well, I think some of his supporters might have something to say about that.”
“No matter, I can easily say you were both in on it. You both carried out these murders to usurp and take over society and this council.”
I shrug. “Well, if you want to take the risk, that’s your choice. But I’m offering you another way. A signed and sealed confession. All you have to do is make a deal.”
Now, it seems, I have her full attention. The other council members murmur in each other’s ears, and then they all fall silent and look at me.
Adrian squirms against his capture, trying to speak, raging against his restraint. I can’t risk even glancing over at him for fear I’ll lose my nerve. Not when there is so much on the line. My fingers are numb, my face is hot, and I’m about five seconds from passing out. Hopefully, Andrea will still catch me even if I keel over on her.
“What sort of deal do you have in mind?”
Andrea tightens her grip on my arm, but I don’t glance at her either. “Not the kind I’m going to announce beforehand. I can promise it has nothing to do with letting anyone go free. That’s the only hint I’ll give you.”
She scowls heavily, her nails clicking on the table. “Enough of these games. I’ll just kill you all.”
One of the other council members speaks up, an older man who I think I recognize as one of my father’s old friends. “We should hear what she has to say. Many of us want justice for Novak. We want to give him a proper burial and see his killer brought in for punishment. If this girl knows or did the deed herself, I want to hear it.”
It irks me the way he says “this girl” like he didn’t practically watch me grow up and suffer so much abuse at my father’s hand. Yet another example of the “mind your own business” boys club that did nothing to help me for years.
The councilwoman sighs heavily like she’s really put out by all the talking she has to listen to today instead of all the bloodshed. “Fine, very well. We have a deal.”
I shake my head. “In writing. Signed, of course.”
Oh, by the look on her face, I’m pushing it now. She wants to rip me apart for daring to interrupt her proceedings like this.
Adrian lets out a loud noise to try to grab my attention, but I keep ignoring him, even as my body is vibrating with the need to touch him, to help him. The man who spoke before pulls a notepad from his jacket pocket and scribbles out a note, then hands it to the councilwoman.
She locks eyes with me as she slashes her name across the page. “This better be fucking good.”
I take a deep breath and cup my belly low in the front. “You agreed, so thank you, that you won’t kill me before my child is due.”
The room goes silent. So quiet, yet so weighted with anger and hostility. Most of it seething off Adrian right now between Andrea and me ruining his plans, and now the council knowing our child exists.
“Very well,” the councilwoman says, impatience crackling under every syllable. “Your confession then…”
“I killed them both. My father was a mean old bastard who did his best to make my life hell. Sal, who was my fiancé, brutally raped and murdered my cousin before he tried to murder me. So because of those things, I killed him too.” I say this all deadpan like my insides aren’t shaking apart piece by vital piece.
“You killed them. Two grown men? With no other help?” the older man asks. But it’s not a question. It’s all derision. He doesn’t believe a word I’ve said.
I shrug, still trying to seem calm and at ease. “It’s easy enough for a small woman to kill a man with a gun. My father tried to drug me and force an abortion, so I shot him in the gut and left him for dead.”
