Zara’s POV

A week had passed since the night on Montana Island. But the fear, the rope scars on my wrist, and the nightmares, they had not left. Today was different, though. Because today, justice would be served.

The courthouse was packed with reporters, journalists, flashing cameras, and the general public. The court buzzed with murmur and curiosity until the judge walked in and the room went silent.

“All rise!” the registrar’s voice instructed.

We all rose to our feet and remained ...