Page 118 of The Rebel King

Pain always carves out two paths. We all have pain. The difference is where it takes you. Gregory followed it down a path of vengeance that killed my brother and would have taken Lennix from me. I can feel no remorse for his death and still think what a shame, what a waste.

“King, go.” Grim’s words snap in the tomb-like quiet of the basement. “Rick’s waiting in the back alley.”

“Does he know?”

“No one knows but you and me. Didn’t want to risk it. The rest of the team is standing down and awaiting orders upstairs.”

“So the body—”

“I got it.” He nods toward the shadows he occupied just minutes before. “Go through there and up to the main floor.”

“And if they ask—”

“They won’t. Go.”

I follow the dark, narrow stairwell up to a door leading to an alley behind the building. Rick waits there, just like Grim said he would be. His inscrutable face reveals no more interest than usual.

“You ready, sir?”

“Uh, yeah.” I pull out my phone to look at the screen saver. It’s a girl and a guy kissing in a field of tulips, a freeze-frame of love in bloom. They look young and happy and unconcerned, no idea what the years ahead will bring, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He’s holding her like she’s the whole world in his arms, and she looks glad to be there.

“Where are we going?” Rick asks.

I smile, glancing up to find the spire of the State Capitol pointing toward the sky.

“We’re going to witness history.”

CHAPTER 51

LENNIX

“This day has been a long time coming,” Senator Jim Nighthorse says, spreading his pleased smile around the crowded room in the Oklahoma State Capitol building. “The number of missing and murdered indigenous women each year is staggering, an epidemic that has been overlooked, underreported, and unaddressed.”

Mena and I stand behind him, holding hands, smiling, even as we both brush away our tears.

“I’m so proud of the bipartisan effort and commitment behind this groundbreaking legislation facilitating more efficient communication between tribal and local authorities. If we care, we’ll keep searching, and we’ll keep saying our sisters’ names.”

He glances over his shoulder, smiling into my teary eyes.

“This bill is the namesake of a national MMIW activist who lost her life in the field, in the fight. It is my honor to sign the Liana Reynolds Act into law today and to have her daughter, Lennix Hunter, here with us as a witness.”

I step forward to sign along with several other witnesses and legislators, architects of the law. Looking out over those assembled, I find my father and Bethany in the crowd. He nods, approval and love and the same inevitable shadow of sorrow in his eyes I know he sees in mine. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely hold the ceremonial pen. Tears fill my eyes, and the words on the page blur.

“Lennix,” Jim says. “Would you like to say a few words?”

I nod and open my mouth to start my prepared remarks when the door at the back of the room opens. Maxim walks in, accompanied by Rick. I honestly didn’t expect him to be able to doGMAand his meeting and make it here on time. He smiles at me in that way that makes the rest of the world disappear for the space of at least one breath, and for a second, even with a roomful of people, it’s just us. He blows me a kiss and leans against the wall, pride all over his face. I drag my eyes away from him and address the crowd.

“My mother was a fighter,” I say. “Real fighters know you should never assume survival. She lived like every day was her last, being bold and loving loudly with no reserve, but she also lived like there were seven generations coming behind her. Always looking to the future and fighting to make it better. She lived for others. She fought for everyone who needed a champion.”

My voice wavers, and tears escape the corners of my eyes as I see her again, glowing with pride after my Sunrise Dance. Taking pictures and dousing me with her love. I’m teetering inside, and I scan the room until I find Maxim again, righting myself through the sheer, steadying force of love in his eyes.

“She was the most vital, vivid person I’ve ever known,” I choke out. “And for a long time, I had nightmares wondering how she died.”

I shake my head, heedless of the tears or the way my voice cracks.

“I don’t dream anymore about how Mama died. I celebrate how she lived. One of her favorite quotes was‘They buried us, but they didn’t know we were seeds.’My mother was a seed. She died when I was thirteen, but today, look at herharvestin this act that will search for, find, and save so many of our women in time. Look at her alive inme. Every morning I wake up and live with purpose, decide to make this world a better place, or decide not to just live for myself but to help those in greatest need, Mama lives on.Iam her harvest.

“I used to despair that no one remembered her, that no one said her name or the names of the thousands of Native women who gomissing and are never found. But today, I say her name. This actbearsher name. Liana Reynolds.”

---