Epilogue
Even with having a mate who was a brilliant lawyer explaining everything going on for the past three months, I still felt like I knew nothing each time we walked into the courtroom.
Earlier on, I’d prepped with the legal team leading The Coalition’s side of the case, and then I’d taken the stand as a witness like everyone else.
That had nearly killed me because I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d be the one to ruin the whole case somehow.
But I’d gotten through it, and the government lawyers hadn’t even wanted to question me.
They’d done that with a lot of the prosecution’s witnesses, and it had left me feeling like I wasn’t important enough to dispute.
Sitting in the courtroom while Hamilton and the others who’d been captives gave their testimonies had been worse.
So many raw emotions, so much pain, and the defense had tried everything to either get the victims’ words dismissed or discredit them.
When they’d suggested that Hamilton had regretted volunteering and now wanted more compensation, I could’ve slaughtered the whole room myself.
Thankfully, it was a panel of judges from both the human and supernatural worlds.
They seemed to be taking their impartiality seriously, too—which was a good thing.
Of course, I felt like it was a slam dunk on the side of everyone who’d been held against their will, experimented on, violated, or lied to, but I could wait for the judges to catch up to that fact.
Which they would today. Or at least they were handing down their decision today. I was really hoping they were on our side, or I didn’t know what I’d do.
I sat on the right side of the courtroom inside The Coalition building in Saint Jude with all of the supernaturals, the soldiers who’d been held or abused, and those who’d switched their allegiance once they learned the truth.
The people on the left were all of the government goons who smiled so smugly, like they couldn’t lose.
I held onto hope with both hands. Well, with imaginary hands because my physical ones were holding onto Hamilton’s.
I was so stressed, I couldn’t even be distracted by the fact that Quillan and Row were sitting together. Close together. Okay, that was a little distracting. We’d been hanging out with Quillan a bit, but he hadn’t said a word about Row. What was going on over there? Was anything going on?
But then the panel of judges marched into the room. They wore the same black robes and everyone looked human, their expressions not giving anything away as they went up and took their seats.
“For fuck’s sake,” I whispered, “couldn’t Verbasic give us a tiny smile or a wink or something?” Judge Verbasic was one of the supernatural judges, a merman.
“Remember,” Hamilton whispered back, “their guilt isn’t in question here.”
“Yeah, but this is about their punishment. You said yourself that they could decide to do nothing. Just give them a warning.” Which everyone knew they would absolutely ignore two seconds later. “It has to hurt or they’ll do it all again.”
He sighed and squeezed my hand. Clinging so hard to hope was slowly killing all of us.
Verbasic, seated in front of the only microphone, cleared his throat and began.
“This panel wishes to thank the victims and their heirs for sharing their stories and having patience with us while we determined the best course of action going forward. As previously agreed upon, all decisions are final.”
“Really?” I whispered.
Hamilton nodded. “I’m looking forward to reading how they managed that.”
I had a feeling he was going to nerd-out on all the legalese for, like, at least a week after this.
“I’m going to read a summary,” Verbasic continued, “though the full decision will be made available to counsel in the next few days.”
Yep, regardless of how this turned out, I wouldn’t see Hamilton until he’d read the whole thing.
Verbasic held a sheet of paper beside the microphone and started reading.
“All those who acted as members of the private security detail for The Barnabas Institute of Genetics as well as the Human Excellence Program, including former American military personnel, and were charged with retrieval, detainment, punishment, or defense are hereby sentenced to no less than ten years in federal prison.”
Several people throughout the courtroom gave a whoop or clapped at that, me included. I’d had a feeling they’d be thrown under the bus as the easiest to blame, but I wasn’t disappointed. They could’ve said no, they could’ve quit, they could’ve told someone what was happening.
“Quiet down,” Verbasic said while two other judges waved their hands to shush us.
Once we were silent again, Verbasic continued.
“Upon their release, they are prohibited from owning or operating firearms of any kind and will be subject to a registry that will alert any supernaturals living near them to their presence for a period of no less than twenty years.”
That was interesting. And, dare I believe it, maybe showing us a hint of what was to come? Like, was it possible everyone was going to get punished appropriately? That tiny seed of hope inside me started to grow.
“All scientific professionals employed by The Barnabas Institute of Genetics and the Human Excellence Program will be stripped of their degrees and credentials and barred from future laboratory work regardless of the subject, disallowed to lecture or publish, and subject to non-disclosure agreements. Failure to adhere to these requirements will result in up to life in federal prison.”
There was some murmuring about that, and I had to ask, “Human Excellence Program?”
Hamilton huffed, frowning hard. “The ship was operating as another arm of the institute, but with the specific mission of implementation. We were part of the first wave. Seven more were planned.”
I gulped. Barnabas had been planning on seven more rounds of implementing his discoveries? Aside from what a supernatural could do for his mate, what else had they learned?
“All scientific research conducted by employees or contractors of The Barnabas Institute of Genetics and the Human Excellence Program,” Verbasic went on, “will be handed over to The Coalition in its entirety. They alone will decide what becomes of it once it is in their possession. Should they determine that any aspect of that research has a commercial application for human or supernatural use, each of the victims involved in that research or their heirs will be required to agree to production and will be paid a minimum of fifty percent of all profits yearly, ad infinitum.”
Hamilton gave a bark of a laugh, and I shook his arm. “That’s good, right?”
“Very good,” he said, fangs peeking as he grinned. “It means The Coalition could destroy everything Barnabas discovered or we could all profit from it, but only with our agreement.”
“Oh, alright. Awesome. And what’s ad infinitum mean?”
“Over and over forever.”
I smiled with him, though I wasn’t sure if I wanted every last bit of data destroyed or not. Maybe, if there was something incredibly important, I could see keeping it. Like if that asshole accidentally cured cancer or something. But only if the thing was on that level.
“Finally,” Verbasic said, “all physical assets of The Barnabas Institute of Genetics and the Human Excellence Program are to be auctioned off and combined with existing monetary assets to provide for a settlement to each of the supernatural and human victims or their heirs.”
More hollers from the crowd, and who could blame us? There was a lot of trauma that some of us would have to deal with for the rest of our lives. Money wouldn’t solve everything, but it would definitely help us afford therapy.
I could tell that Verbasic was cool with our noises because he just smiled a tiny bit and waited until we all shut up. Maybe he was feeling pretty good about being able to do so much good after all the bad.
“Any monies paid to employees or contractors,” Verbasic said, “of The Barnabas Institute of Genetics and the Human Excellence Program during the period of February eighteenth to December twentieth of this year will be forfeited to the settlement fund. Settlement and collection management will be overseen by a team of supernatural and human personnel as determined by The Coalition.”
I clapped. I couldn’t help it. All of that was just…perfect. It was like I could breathe for the first time in months. What we’d all been through hadn’t been shoved to the side like it wasn’t important, covered up, or buried.
Sure, it wasn’t public knowledge, but the secrecy was necessary.
Revealing supernaturals in this political climate?
Uh, no. If humans couldn’t even accept all varieties of themselves, they definitely couldn’t be trusted to handle meeting non-humans!
Thankfully, stuff like video of the attack on our suite in Parnell had been judged in the court of public opinion to be fake, maybe a publicity stunt for a coming movie, or probably AI—before it mysteriously disappeared.
The defense lawyers and several people from that side of the courtroom got the hell out of there real damn quick as soon as Verbasic was done speaking.
Embarrassed? Afraid? Returning to their evil lairs to strategize their next move?
Mostly, I just hoped they told their bosses and their bosses’s bosses to leave us the fuck alone.
Hamilton stood, and I grabbed his hand again as I followed him into the aisle. “So,” he said, “what’s it feel like to become a millionaire?”
“What? Who’s a millionaire?”
“Not too long from now, you’re going to be offered a settlement. I can’t imagine that they’d offer you less than four million.”
There was an honest-to-god record scratch sound in my brain because I hadn’t even considered that. “Oh, my god! Are you serious?”
He pulled me against his chest and laughed. “Winning the lottery all over again?”
I nodded fast, suddenly choked up. Not everything I’d been through in the past few months had been bad, and a little part of me felt that maybe the bad bits had been worth it.
I had safety, security, and the love of an absolutely incredible man.
He’d changed my life for the better in every possible way.
“I love you,” I said and kissed his chin.
Hamilton dipped down for a proper kiss. “I love you, too.”
“How about we put my millions with your millions and see if they’ll make billions, and then we can buy something fun, like a presidency.” He laughed, and I saw someone coming over, so I added, “I’m sure Quillan would be a great president.”
“President? Of what?” Quillan blinked owlishly.
Row was right beside him and now rolling his eyes. “We both know this one would be a much better candidate,” he said, hooking his thumb at Hamilton.
“Yeah,” I admitted, “I don’t suppose Quillan can talk about all his covert missions as the werewolf alpha of the Tactical Team.”
Quillan blushed and rubbed at his nose, while Row looked up at him with a smile and maybe some hearts and stars dancing in his eyes. Whatever was going on with them—and I just knew there was something—it was getting awfully adorable.
“Let’s go to dinner,” Hamilton suggested. “We can celebrate.”
They agreed, and we trooped out into the twilight of the city like happy endings really did happen sometimes and we’d just gotten ours.