Chapter Thirty-one
I’d expected to be taken to the Hart residence—the one Tom Cheshire had expressly told me to avoid. I consoled myself with the probability of Nico being there.
He’d sort this out. I had no idea how, but he would. He’d admitted the Harts were practically family. A deeply dysfunctional family, sure, but it still had to count for something.
The image of him waiting at the end of the journey, swooping in once again like the world’s most unlikely knight in shining armor, occupied most of my thoughts. So much so that I barely registered where we’d arrived until they marched me into a vast, echoing chamber.
A courtroom.
I recognized it even before they pushed me into a dock and ordered me to sit.
The gallery opposite was packed. Some people leaned forward for a better look at me, others whispered behind cupped hands.
Everyone looked perfectly comfortable, especially the man in the front row balancing an enormous bucket of popcorn on his lap.
Apparently, this was Wonderland’s idea of entertainment. Well, that and slave auctions. It was entirely possible that some of the audience had attended both.
“Am I on trial?” I asked. “What exactly am I supposed to have done?”
Nobody acknowledged me.
A door opened at the far end of the room to admit a procession of what I assumed to be lawyers, clerks, and officials.
They took their places without sparing me so much as a glance.
The judge was unmistakable, courtesy of the ridiculous powdered wig he wore and his central position at a raised bench.
Then came the Harts.
Queenie swept in first, her little black nightclub dress replaced by a sable fur coat.
Cruella de Vil immediately sprang to mind, the tiny white Chihuahua nestled in her arms doing nothing to dispel the comparison.
All it needed was a few black spots painted on it.
The high heels were still very much in attendance, this pair black.
Henry followed in golf clothes instead of a pinstripe suit.
Did Wonderland have a golf course?
Nico had said the place had everything if you knew where to look, so I assumed it must have. Henry’s expression said he didn’t really want to be here.
That made two of us.
Kellan came last, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt, and a brown leather jacket. He had a dog leash wrapped around his wrist. I expected another chihuahua, or maybe something bigger, considering Kellan didn’t exactly strike me as the chihuahua type.
Instead…
The man crawling behind him stole every coherent thought from my head.
He shuffled along on his hands and knees, naked except for a black G-string.
His skin was a patchwork of healing bruises, yellow bleeding into purple.
He’d lost so much weight his ribs stood out in stark relief.
His face hadn’t escaped the beating either.
Even so, I recognized him as the man Kellan had claimed in the nightclub.
The worst part wasn’t the bruises.
It was his eyes. There was nothing behind them. Like he’d long since found a better place to escape to, and had no intention of ever coming back from there.
Kellan dropped onto a bench and gave the leash an unnecessarily sharp tug to yank the man down beside him. Smiling, he reached across and patted him on the head. “Good doggy.”
The man didn’t flinch or react at all—just kept staring into space. More disturbing than the display itself was everyone’s complete indifference to it.
No one stared. No one looked uncomfortable. As if it were something completely normal they’d seen a hundred times before.
The sound of the courtroom door clicking shut had me tearing my gaze away from Kellan and his ‘pet’ to face a huge realization. One that made my stomach drop.
Nobody else had entered.
Which meant no Nico.
Fuck.
I’d been relying on him.
Everything suddenly fit together. His insistence that he wasn’t working. The phone call that dragged him away. The attack on his apartment shortly afterward.
They had timed everything perfectly.
Whatever this was, they’d made damn sure he wouldn’t be here for it.
A man in a black suit stood, the chatter dying instantly. “Welcome to the trial of Lysander James Carroll.”
Them knowing my middle name turned my blood to ice. How the fuck did they know that?
If they knew that, what else did they know?
My address?
My parents’ address?
I was damn sure my and Warren’s conversations had never gotten as far as middle names, so he hadn’t been the source.
The police? That seemed more likely. After all, Nico had warned me they were in cahoots with Wonderland.
By that reasoning, their sharing of information was hardly surprising.
Every new revelation made this place feel that little more rotten.
“Guilty!” someone shouted from the audience, to laughter.
“Execute him!” someone else shouted.
The laughter grew louder. That was a joke. It had to be, right? A cold kernel of something solidified in my chest. Because what if it wasn’t?
Panic had me surging to my feet. “I haven’t done anything. You need to let me go.”
The man in the black suit glanced my way. “That’s precisely what we’re here to determine. If you’ve done nothing wrong, you’ll leave here as a free man.” He angled his body toward Queenie. “Would you like to say anything, Your Ladyship?”
She rose gracefully, the chihuahua still tucked in the crook of her arm.
She turned to face the audience. “As you all know, we take our rules seriously here in Wonderland. When someone enters our domain and repeatedly disregards those rules, we can’t simply ignore it.
If we did, this oasis of fun, this island of opportunity, would soon descend into chaos.
” She swept her gaze across the room. “Is that what we want?”
“No.” the audience chorused obediently.
While Henry nodded enthusiastically from his seat, Kellan looked close to falling asleep.
“What rules?” I demanded.
Queenie turned her head my way. Her expression remained carefully neutral, but there was no mistaking the coldness in her eyes. “We’ll get to that,” she said. “After you’ve sat down.”
I sat. No point in kicking the hornet’s nest before I even knew what I was dealing with. One step at a time.
The suited man cleared his throat. “Mr. Cartwright will now read the charges.”
Another man stood, lifted a scroll from the table, and gave it a dramatic flick.
It unfurled.
And kept unfurling.
And kept unfurling.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.
Surely this had to be satire.
Something clicked. This was the court channel I’d always ignored because it was too bizarre to sit through.
Apparently, I’d become its latest attraction.
Which meant every second of this was theater.
A courtroom drama I’d never agreed to be part of.
Just like the porn video. Only with more clothes and fewer orgasms.
“The defendant has committed multiple violations during his time in Wonderland,” Mr. Cartwright announced. “The order of these alleged offenses reflects neither chronology nor severity. Determining guilt and punishment remains the responsibility of the court.”
Queenie nodded for him to continue.
“The defendant failed to maintain his assigned eye color.”
I laughed. “You can’t change someone’s eye color without their permission.”
Nobody reacted.
“The defendant failed to maintain his assigned uniform.”
I snorted. “Uniform? You dressed me like a rent boy. Of course, I got rid of it as soon as I could. Who wants to parade around in leather that barely covers anything?
Silence.
“The defendant permitted the removal of his assigned tattoo.”
“Permitted? I was unconscious. A common state of affairs in this damn place. How was I supposed to stop them? And can I add, it was a tattoo I never consented to in the first place? Just like the contacts. Just like the clothes.”
Still nothing.
“The defendant spent the night in an unauthorized residence.”
Donovan’s place. I didn’t bother commenting on that one.
“The defendant accrued debts at both the nightclub and casino with no intention of paying.”
“I paid.” With my fucking body. I didn’t add that part. It wouldn’t do much for my claim that I wasn’t a rent boy.
“The defendant repeatedly behaved discourteously toward Wonderland personnel.”
“Who?” I challenged.
“The defendant destroyed valuable Wonderland property. In particular, a gold watch.”
“Technically...”
I stopped myself before mentioning Nico. I had no idea whether that would make things better or worse. It was possible his name was still to come on this list of trumped-up charges that went on forever.
“The defendant refused a sexual offer.”
“Oh, pardon me for not sleeping with everyone who so much as breathes in my direction.”
“The defendant repeatedly failed to contribute gossip while visiting The Black Teapot Supper Club.”
The list only grew more absurd.
Apparently, visiting Victor’s apartment was a crime. As was sleeping indoors, avoiding Wonderland residents, removing my mask without permission, and refusing drugs.
Half the things Nico and I had done together had somehow become my sole responsibility, while he was neatly erased from the picture.
Eventually, I stopped arguing and let the rest of the list play out in silence.
When Mr. Cartwright finally finished, he made an elaborate show of rolling the scroll closed before sitting down.
The judge interlocked his fingers, his expression one of grave concern. “Well…” he finally said. “That is an exceptionally long list of violations. Possibly the longest we’ve ever heard.”
“It’s very concerning,” Henry agreed solemnly. “We certainly can’t set a precedent of tolerating such behavior.”
The first man stood once more. “Over the next few hours, we will demonstrate that the defendant knowingly violated every one of these rules and displayed a flagrant disregard for the laws of Wonderland.”
I snorted. “This is absolute bullshit.” Like everything else I’d said that morning, no one listened to me.
“I call my first witness,” he announced.