“For murder?” Jaxon narrows his gaze on me. “You’re starting to believe whatever lies he’s been feeding you. Grace, you know he can’t be trusted.”
“I don’t know that,” I answer with a shake of my head.
“What if we bring him back and it turns out he’s been planning to start his evil crusade all over again?” Gwen asks. “How do we live with ourselves?”
“Yes, because that’s what I’ve been doing. Plotting for months on how to destroy the world.” He shakes his head. “Who do they think I am? Dr. Evil?”
I ignore him because I know I have only a couple of minutes to make my case or they’re going to move on, whether I want them to or not. So I look from person to person and try to explain. “Cyrus was organizing an army of made vampires, and others, to start another war. Hudson was only trying to prevent an even bigger catastrophe. I’m not saying I agree with his methods, but I believe him when he says he was doing the right thing. He only turned Cyrus’s allies against one another.”
Flint looks like I hit him with a truck. “Are you blaming my brother for what Hudson did?” I have never seen Flint really mad before, and as he raises up to his full dragon height, I have to say, I hope I never see it again. He’s not threatening me in any way, but yeah. He is pissed. “Is he telling you my family was aligned with that fucking power-hungry monster?”
“Your brother most certainly was,” Hudson replies, but I ignore him. “Had a nasty temper and hated being boxed in by humans.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Flint.” I try to calm him down. “But I am saying there may be more to this story than you know. I believe him. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jaxon finally chimes in.
“Excuse me?” I stare at him. “What exactly does that mean?”
“You have Hudson whispering in your head, trying to trick you—”
“You really think I’m that silly? That I don’t know my own mind?” I ask.
“I think you’re human—”
“But I’m not only human,” I shoot back. “Am I? At least, not any more than the rest of you. So why does my opinion matter less?”
“Because you weren’t there,” Jaxon tells me, and he sounds exasperated. Which is fine with me, because I’m way beyond exasperated at this point. Not that that seems to matter to him. Either because he doesn’t know that he’s offended me or he doesn’t care—neither of which is particularly okay in my opinion. “You didn’t see what we saw.”
“Maybe not, but none of you has seen what I have, either. Hudson has been in my head for a week and a half, twenty-four seven. You think I don’t know who he is now? You think I can’t recognize a psychopath when I see one?”
“It doesn’t matter if you think he’s innocent,” Flint says. “The risk is too great. We can’t let him have his powers. Who knows what he’ll do with them next?”
“So you think we have the right to play judge and jury?” I ask. “I think he deserves a chance.”
“The truth is, Grace, it doesn’t matter what you think,” Jaxon tells me. “Because you’re outvoted, seven to one.”
I stare at him incredulously for long seconds, then glance around the room to see if anyone else thinks he sounds as autocratic as I do. But they all just look back at me solemnly. Which just pisses me off more.
I take a deep breath, try to calm down enough to be rational. Which is hard when my friends are all looking at me like I’m being ridiculous. Worse, like I’m a non-paranormal.
Though I’m not surprised by their stance. Not really. If I’d lived through what they did, I’d likely feel the same about a new girl at school who wants to set free the psychopath who gives them nightmares. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt me that Macy and Jaxon—Jaxon—are taking sides against me on something so important.
My heart is breaking, and I’m fighting tears as I finally choke out, “Are you seriously not even going to consider what I’m telling you, Jaxon? Are you really not even going to try to see your mate’s point of view?”
Jaxon looks as bad as I feel as he reaches for my hands, pulls them close to his chest. “I love you, Grace. You know that.” His words are raw and gravelly, like they’re being wrenched from deep inside him. “But I can’t give you this. Anything else, but not this.” He gazes down at me, and there is a wetness in his own eyes that looks a lot like tears as he continues. “I can’t afford to put myself first. Or my mate. It’s my responsibility to keep everyone safe. Their lives are in my hands. So how can you ask me to choose?”