Chapter 25
Charlotte
My body aches in the most delicious of ways as I stretch languidly in our makeshift bed on the floor of the Penthouse.
I don’t know how Zach always knows what I need, but it’s like he was inside my head last night. Somehow, knowing that what I needed was the control.
I don’t fancy myself a Domina or anything, but I fit into the role like it was made for me. Taking the pleasure I wanted. How I wanted. When I wanted. It was liberating.
I would’ve never thought that was something that I needed. And Zach? I would’ve never guessed that he would be willing to submit himself to someone. He’s never been overly dominant when we are together, but he definitely likes to take the lead.
Seeing him bear himself to me, mind, body, and soul, last night on his knees is a memory I will cherish for the rest of my days. As well as made some incredible spank bank material.
Strong, warm arms wrap around me as Zach buries his face into my back. “Good mornin’, sweetheart. Do you wanna order breakfast in or grab somethin’ on the way back to Mary’s?” The reminder of what the day holds sucks a bit of the wind out of my sails.
Fucking Priest’s sentencing.
I groan and reach for my phone to check the time. We have two and a half hours until we are to meet David at the courthouse.
“We better grab something on the way.” I sigh. Thinking about Priest is definitely a mood killer. Looks like no morning sex for me. Fucking asshole.
I’m stuffing the last of the salmon breakfast burrito in my face as we pull up to the familiar duplex. Zach kisses my cheek to avoid fishy lips and promises to be back in an hour after he showers and dresses at home.
Walking into Savvy’s room, I dump my bag unceremoniously onto her bed and strip myself of the jeans and tee. I head to her bathroom to shower and get ready for whatever shit storm the day carries.
* * *
Walking into the courtroom this time feels more nerve-wracking than the previous time. I don’t know why. I’ve already given my testimony. He’s already been indicted. It’s a done deal. This is simply a formality. But this just feels heavier on my heart. I can’t explain the all-encompassing black cloud that coats the room.
I originally planned on wearing a black pantsuit. It’s basically Priest’s funeral, so I may as well dress for the occasion. But at the last minute, I changed my mind and snagged a white skater dress with a smattering of red roses along the bottom hem. I paired the graceful feminine piece with my stark white Chuck Ts.
Priest has stolen enough of my joy.
David slides into the pew first, Mary beside him, and then Zach slides in, and I take up the last position. There’s still space for others to sit on our pew if they so choose, but most spectators stick to the rows behind us.
Just like before, people trickle in: onlookers, news crews, litigators, and bailiffs. The room is mostly full, and the noise lowers to a steady hum of chatter as we all wait for the judge.
I take a gander around the space, not recognizing many faces. The Poole family is a notable absence. I guess once their cash cow was a lost cause, there was no need to keep up appearances. I can’t say I’m sorry not to have to see Erick’s face again.
My dad is another notable absence. He’s been traveling back and forth so much that some important meetings were pushed off until they couldn’t be anymore. He was willing to say fuck it and come anyway. Consequences be damned. But I assured him, I had plenty of support and would give him a call tonight with a recap.
The bailiff announces the judge’s arrival, asking us all to rise as Judge Appleton makes his way in from his Chambers and takes his place. He waves to the bailiff, a signal to bring in the prisoner.
A whoosh of air hits my bare legs as a bag is dropped beside them on the floor. A pair of familiar black flats settle beside the bag. My gaze travels up and lands on the fresh-faced, ragey teen with short black hair.
She doesn’t look at me or acknowledge anything in the room. Her gaze is firmly fixed on the door that Priest will walk through any moment now. A haunted look affixed to her otherwise angelic, pale face.
I shake off the weirdness and tap my feet against the floor in an attempt to dispel my own nervous energy. The vibes in this room are totally fucked.
Whispers hit a crescendo as Priest is led into the room through the same door as before. Everything is reminiscent of that day. His uniform is the same, and the full-body chains are the same. A false air of confidence and superiority wafts off of him.
And just like last time, his eyes search for mine in the crowd, and he winks, “Astra.”
I roll my eyes and subtly flip him the bird against my temple. Feigning an itch against my skin.
Judge Appleton calls the room to order and begins reviewing the charges against Priest. He entered a plea of guilty in exchange for no extradition and the removal of some lesser charges.
Ragey girl bounces in her seat, and I briefly wonder if there’s a fire lit under her ass or something. I want to tell her to chill, but I’m kinda dealing with my own shit over here.
She begins riffling through her bag, her shaky hands not latching on anything in particular.
The banal recapping of the trial by the judge is droning on, and on; I find myself on the verge of screaming at him to just get the fuck on with it already .
Finally, he makes a call for any victim impact statements. I discussed the decision at length with David, Mary, and Zach. I decided against it. I don’t want to rehash my trauma for these people yet again. I’ve been assured that no matter what, he will be going away for likely the rest of his miserable life, and it wouldn’t make much difference anyway.
After today, Priest gets no more of me. Ever again.
David didn’t seem to think there were any of Priest’s direct victims attending, so this part will be over quickly, and we can move on to the nitty-gritty of the day.
“Miss Justice?” Judge Appleton calls, waving her forward.
To my surprise, the ragey girl leans down, grabs her bag, holds it tightly to her side, and pulls out a sheet of paper. She stands and walks toward the small podium between the prosecution and defense tables.
She sets the crumpled paper against the wooden lectern and lets out a deep, shaky breath. She shakes off the nerves and straightens her shoulders, turning her gaze straight to Priest, who looks at her with confusion. His reaction clearly shows that he either doesn’t know who this girl is or why she’s here—maybe both.
Ragey girl clears her throat and speaks loudly, with no trace of nerves in her voice. “My name is Mallory Justice. I am here today to tell you about my sister, Jennika. Jennika was smart, funny, and beautiful. Her smile lit up every room she went into. She always had the best grades, the best clothes, best friends. Best everything.
She was popular and kind. She would always make sure I wasn’t left out of things just because I was younger. She was the best sister a girl could ask for. One day I came home, and Jennika wasn’t so nice. Her grades started slipping. Her friends changed. She started keeping secrets. Staying out for days at a time, not telling anyone where she was or who she was with. Sometimes, she would come home with bruises all over her body. Fingerprints along her arm or around her neck.
The light completely left her eyes. She was a walking zombie. A ghost of the girl she used to be. And then, one day, she never came home. Her body was found in an alleyway in Palmsville. Behind a dumpster. Her clothes were torn, and her underwear lay bloody and in pieces beside her body. And a needle was still sticking out of her arm.”
Recognition seems to dawn over Priest. He may not know ragey girl. But he damn sure knew her sister.
She smooths the crumpled paper against the lectern with gentle care as though the soft caress of the words could bring back her sister.
The room waits with bated breath for her to continue her statement. But she stays stoically, staring at that paper.
Judge Appleton clears his throat and opens his mouth to address her when she whispers, “He killed her. He took Jennika away, and no punishment is enough.” Her eyes snap to the judge as her voice raises, her ire for Priest laden throughout her words. “Caleb doesn’t deserve to sit in a warm cell, eating three hot meals every day while my sister is buried in the cold, unforgiving earth. It’s not enough.” She turns her whole attention back to Priest and smiles. A chill runs through my veins. “It’s not enough. ” She whispers again.
Ragey girl reaches into the bag she’s kept tucked tightly against her side and points the shiny metal at Priest. Time slows throughout the courthouse as the bang reverberates off the walls. Priest’s body slumps against the table, a pool of blood forming.
Another bang.
There’s a flurry of motion all around. Crying. Screaming. Cursing. And all I can think as I look down at the speckles of red against my once unsoiled white Chuck Ts is, fucking hell, there ain’t enough bleach for this.