50. Ava - ThelmaLouise
AVA - THELMA OR LOUISE
The crowd didn’t move.
They shouted. They chanted. They called out Remi’s name like it meant something bigger than all of us.
Because it did.
This wasn’t just about her anymore.
It was about every girl who’d been silenced.
Every survivor who never got justice.
Every woman who’d been told to lower her voice while the world looked away.
About abuse of power.
But the part that stuck in my chest, the part I couldn’t breathe around, was that none of it stopped the cuffs from locking around her wrists.
None of it stopped her knees from hitting concrete.
And now?
Now they couldn’t even get her to the damn transport vehicle.
Too many people. Too many signs. Too many reporters and cameras catching it all in real time.
The officers scrambled, barking orders, trying to wedge a path through a crowd that had grown too big to control. Too loud to ignore.
Erin looked like she wanted to scream.
Harlan looked like he already had.
Remi stood between them, stone-still, blood trickling through the grey from one knee. And even then, even bruised, bleeding, and shackled, she looked like the one in charge.
Reid muttered something to the lead officer and a few minutes later, they were walking her back into the precinct.
Temporary call for backup. Too volatile. Unsafe transport conditions.
That’s what they said.
What they meant was: the people are watching now.
I stayed outside.
Let the crowd settle. Checked in with every patient I recognized. The young mom from the clinic waiting room who was still shaken. A retired school teacher who ran her afterschool literacy nights from the clinic.
A few reporters shouted questions, shoved mics in my face.
I ignored them.
I wasn’t ready to speak.
I needed my hands free. My voice sharp. And my best friend home.
I was helping a volunteer load water bottles onto the folding table setup someone had thrown together on the fly, when I felt it.
That tug at the back of your neck when someone’s watching.
I turned slowly.
A man stood across the lot. Dark jacket. Dark hair buzzed short, eyes so dark they almost weren't brown anymore... Strong frame. Still. Watchful.
I knew that kind of stillness.
It was the kind that came with training and blood on your hands.
He didn’t move until our eyes locked.
Then he strode across the parking lot like he’d been invited.
“You’re a hard woman to get a read on,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
He studied me. Calm. Not cocky. Just… curious.
“Now I see why the Chief’s panties are in a bunch.”
I blinked. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about the Chief’s panties.”
He grinned like I’d passed some kind of test. “Good. Then we can skip the part where I pretend to be impressed.”
“You here to talk to Harlan?” I asked, crossing my arms. “Tell him you’re proud of the show he put on?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You always this charming?”
“Only with men who show up uninvited and think I give a shit.”
He chuckled, then leaned in slightly, voice low. “I like you.”
I arched a brow. “And I should care… why?”
“Because I’m a much better friend than an enemy.”
“Well,” I snapped, “if you’re friends with the Chief, then you’re already on the wrong side.”
He didn’t flinch. Just tilted his head like he was cataloging every word. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, dollface.”
I hated the way that nickname slid off his tongue.
Hated that it didn’t sound patronizing, just amused.
Like he was waiting for me to catch up.
He held out his hand, "The name's Kane."
I looked at his hand, then back up to his face. He was taller and bigger up close.
I decided I did not want to shake his hand, so I crossed my arms over my chest and took a step back.
He smirked, then glanced toward the station. Then back to me.
“You Thelma or Louise?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He smirked. “Never mind. Don’t answer. It’s more fun if I figure it out myself.”
Before I could ask who the hell he thought he was, someone shouted my name. I turned.
By the time I looked back.
He was gone.
I scanned the crowd, the sidewalks, the street corners.
Nothing.
Not even a shadow.
Jack found me a few minutes later, holding a coffee he’d clearly just strong-armed someone into handing over. He looked exhausted. Focused.
“We need a central spot,” he said without preamble.
“For what?”
“For organizing. Coordinating press. For me to meet with Remi once we get bail figured out. The apartment’s too small. The clinics still wrecked.”
I nodded slowly. “I’ll find something. One of our donors might have an empty rental or a house that hasn’t sold.”
“Good.” He sipped, eyes scanning the crowd like he was looking for weak points. “This is going to move fast now.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
He looked at me. “We’re going to clear her name.”
I looked back at the building. “And if the system doesn’t care?”
“Then we burn the system.”
I didn’t answer.
Because I wasn’t sure anymore if what we were doing was protest… or something else.
It had a life now. Its own heartbeat. Its own rage.
But I’d promised I would do anything to get her out...
And I wasn’t backing down.
Not until she was free and Erin Voss was the one behind bars.