It sickened Dorothy, the hugeness of this lie, but she saw immediately how easily it would be accepted. The gathered crowd was already nodding, their mouths pressed into hard lines, their eyes glittering with malice. It made sense to them, that the man they’d held captive would’ve escaped to kill one of their own. Already, they were shouting for vengeance.

“Liar,” Dorothy breathed, but her voice was drowned out by the jeers and shouts of the Freaks. Even so, Mac looked right at her, as though he alone had heard. He smiled, viciously. A dare.

Dorothy swallowed. Her throat felt thick as she looked around, at the faces surrounding her. If she spoke up now it would be her word against his. Would anyone believe her?

Perhaps some would. But the others would want Ash’s blood. They’d be out tonight, looking for him. Hunting him.

Someone had to warn him.

Dorothy backed up a few steps, and then she turned and began pushing her way through the crowd of Freaks. She’d almost made it to the back of the room and the door that led—blessedly—out onto the docks when Eliza slid in front of her, blocking her way.

“Going somewhere, little Fox?” she said.

Dorothy froze, her skin creeping. She couldn’t tell whether she was being mocked.

“Yes,” she snapped, allowing a sharpness to creep into her voice. “I’m going back to my room. It’s been a long day. Or haven’t you been listening?”

Eliza tilted her head, considering her through narrowed eyes. “I saw you, you know,” she said. “Both of you.”

“Both of us?”

“You and Asher. Two nights ago, you met him on the docks behind the Dead Rabbit.” Eliza fixed her with a cool stare. “You looked . . . intimate.”

Dorothy’s mouth felt dry.

But . . . but she hadn’t met Ash on the docks that night at the Dead Rabbit. She’d left him there and gone after Roman.

What was this?

Whether Eliza had intended to or not, she’d caused a stir. The other Freaks were turning to face them now, frowning, listening.

Dorothy flushed, and tried to come up with something to say in response. But the truth—no you didn’t—seemed so thin . . .

“And I saw you again, this morning,” Eliza spit, fury lighting her face. “You snuck into the room where Ash was being held prisoner and set him free. If it weren’t for you, Roman would still be alive.”

What? No, she hadn’t. Dorothy had gone right to the Black Crow, with Mac and Roman. There hadn’t been time to set Ash free first.

Dorothy was still frowning, trying to decide whether to untangle the threads of the argument when Eliza moved closer, invading her space. She took an unconscious step backward, slamming into the wall.

A vicious smile flitted across Eliza’s face.

“Traitor,” she hissed. She reached for Dorothy, hand closing around her arm.

“Don’t touch me,” Dorothy said, yanking her arm free. She saw some confusion in the crowd around her, nervous glances flitting back and forth, whispers, and said, full-voiced, “You’re lying.”