Something About Harry(94)
Sure, she could go to the slammer for life because of these people—in her case, that was a long, long time—whether they knew those things about her or not.
But she’d damn well go with the knowledge she’d finally gone after something she really wanted, and she’d go with no regrets.
She was taking one for the single girl werewolf team.
She hadn’t done anything horrible, per se. She’d found a way to take control of her life, of her deepest desire, without the aid of anything other than her brain. She’d followed her heart. For the first time in forever, she’d done something on impulse.
Sure, her impulse was a whole lot bigger than most whims. It wasn’t like buying an expensive sports car or even having a one-night stand on impulse. Yet what she’d lacked in her impulsivity, the forethought to consider the far-reaching consequences of making the serum, she more than made up for in sheer determination to have a family of her own—on her own terms.
No matter what happened to her during this proceeding, she’d never regret pursuing her dreams.
Just before the eldest council member, somber, stoic, ancient by human terms, dropped the gavel, Mara heard a rustling of paper, making her turn around.
Marty, Nina, and Wanda whipped up signs made of poster board with big, bold red letters that read MY UTERUS, MY CHOICE!
The crowd, along with the council and members of the jury, let out sharp gasps.
Mara closed her eyes, shrinking in her chair. Marty absolutely had to stop watching televised court cases on her lunch break, but their support meant the world.
As the gavel swung hard, cracking in her ears, she readied herself.
Let the games begin.
* * *
“I object!” Marty yelped from the crowd.
All eyes swung to Marty, beautiful and sunshiny-blond, dressed all in her “protest pack authority” black, the clang of her bracelets reverberating through the cathedral ceilings of the courtroom.
She climbed out of Keegan’s grasp like she was made of melting butter and hopped over people in the crowd as though she’d been possessed by a high school hurdle jumper.
She flew down the long aisle toward the council bench, evading three guards and the pack’s version of a bailiff. “I said I object!”
“Marty . . .” Griffin Atkin, second elder of the council used his warning tone when speaking into the mic. “We have yet to speak a solitary word. There’s nothing to object to.”
Marty ignored the loud protests of Keegan. She narrowed her eyes, gazing up at the row of eight council members, hands on her hips. “The hell there’s not something to object to! I object to you telling my sister-in-law, or any female pack member, what she can do with her uterus! When—and only when—you have a vagina, and not some dried-up, old—”
Keegan was right behind her, scooping her up and placing his hand over her mouth to quiet her. Marty flailed in his grip, but Keegan was stronger, wrestling her back to their places in the crowd with an apologetic look to the council members.
Charles Knotts, council member number four, glared down at Keegan, disapproval all over his stately, intricately lined face. “I trust you’ll control your mate from here on out, Keegan?”
From the corner of her eyes, Mara saw Wanda pop up from her seat, waving her poster board with a flutter. “Control?” she yelled in outrage. “Did you just use the word control regarding a woman from this century, sir? I’m offended. I demand that,” she paused a moment, frowning as though she wasn’t sure what to demand. Stomping her foot, her tastefully made-up eyes shot them all condescending glares. “How dare you order a man to control his mate in the presence of so many of the female persuasion? I demand that statement be stricken from the record!”
Charles Knotts pursed his lips, giving his fellow council members a roll of his eyes. “There is no record as yet, Ms. Jefferson. We can’t have a record if no one has said anything to be recorded,” he offered dryly, followed by a grating sigh.
Wanda shook her finger at the council members, using her stern mommy face. “Then let it be recorded that no one’s said anything worthy of recording!”
Yeah. You go, halfsie. Mara silently cheered Wanda, now really unsure where this was going. They were clearly trying to distract and delay, but for what? Yet she did as Harry asked and remained expressionless.
Council member number seven, Thomas Carson, leaned forward and spoke into his mic. “Silence!” he thundered. Thomas, one of the more easily agitated, stuck in his eighteenth-century ways, sent Wanda the imposing glare of death before waving a finger at the guards to escort Wanda out.
Nina leapt over the pew and was at Wanda’s side before anyone could say differently. “Hey, old dude! Tell your goon to back the mutha—”