Page 83 of Hart's Redemption

“Not at all. I merely need a moment to confer with my client.”

“Granted. Be quick.”

I spun to Lombardi. “If they demand to test the oaths, you get him out of here. Understood?”

“That is highly irregular.”

“Immediately. Do not wait for me. Don’t let him follow. Get him as far away as fast as you can and donotleave his side until court is recalled. Do you understand?”

Lombardi gave a sharp nod as Elijah leaned forward. “What are you talking about? I’m not leaving.”

I met Elijah’s concerned gaze. “I’m so sorry, baby. Just know you’re going to be okay, that I’m going to be okay. No matter what it feels like, I’m not actually dying.” His eyes widened, and I saw the questions tumbling to get out. I quickly stood and advanced to the designated chair before I could lose my nerve. All eyes riveted on me the moment I settled.

Hightower stalked toward me like she’d smelled fresh blood. “Detective Hart, would you please state your real name for the panel?”

“Joshua Hart.”

Her jaw tightened. “And the name on your birth certificate?”

“Joshua Hart.”

Fire blazed in her brown eyes. “Need I remind you that you are under oath?”

“I have been obligated to speak nothing but the truth since I was eighteen. Perhaps you are simply asking the wrong question.” Little disappointing really. Camilla Hightower was one of the finest prosecutors in a dozen countries, yet Elijah had picked up on the right question almost immediately.

She took a moment to pull herself together. “Let me rephrase. What is your family name? Your ancestral heritage?”

“Harker.”

“Is it true that you are the last male heir?”

“It is.”

“Is it also true that the Harker family, to which you belong, has built a centuries-old reputation on the hunting of lycanthropes?”

“No. The Harker family—my family—has built its reputation on being the best werewolf hunters the world has ever known.”

A wave of unrest went through the gathered crowd at my use of the taboo term.

Undaunted, Hightower persevered. “And did you participate in this family legacy?”

“I did.”

“Care to elaborate?”

I contained the urge to glare at her. Vague questions were the bane of any Lycan Detective’s existence. “Not particularly.”

Rather than be irritated, Camilla seemed to have realized her mistake. “When did you first learn of your heritage?”

“The earliest I can remember, I was three.” I failed to elaborate that the lesson had also come with a beating.

“Break down how it evolved from there. First kill, and so forth.” Hightower was definitely learning.

“My first hunt was at seven and my first kill at thirteen. To date, I have killed fifty-three unsanctioned werewolves.”

Shock exploded across her face and spread to every corner of the room upon hearing the truth. In the background, Elijah shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know, but I imagined he didn’t appreciate me volunteering the information either.

“Is that why you became a Lycan Detective? To perpetuate and enable your hatred of lycanthropes?” Hightower turned to address the still upset masses and the media capturing every second of this farce. “As a Lycan Detective, you would have had all the cover you needed to kill any Lycan that crossed your path.”