The head panelist from our trial stepped onto the stage with a microphone to address the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for sacrificing your morning to witness to attend this sentencing. Ridding Grayson of the evils that threaten to corrupt us is an essential part of our duties. Today, we fulfill that duty before God.

"These ladies," he said gesturing to me and Ruby, "stand accused of homosexuality, abetting criminals, and putting the lives of Mr. Moberly and his child in jeopardy. They are the epitome of what a woman should not be. The Lord sayeth, 'blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the Earth.' These women were not meek. They were not obedient and they allowed the devil into their lives. For that reason, they shall hang on this day."

Many people in the crowd cheered. I furrowed my brows, glaring at them in disgust. It astounded me that they could think I was evil because I loved a woman and would do anything to keep her safe, but they were righteous, God-fearing Christians by cheering for my death. That seemed hypocritical.

"Before the execution commences," the man continued. "We will give the women one final chance to speak for themselves. I advise you take this chance to make things right with God before your judgment."

He places the microphone in front of Ruby. She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it again, shaking her head. I couldn't blame her- what good would it do to say something? It wouldn't change our fate, but simply prolong the inevitable.

But when the microphone was placed before my lips, I was overcome with an overwhelming need to say something, anything to prevent this from happening to other women. We couldn't continue going down this path and expect to survive as a people. Not when half of our population was suppressed, abused, and condemned to a lifetime of servitude and torture. If I was going to go die, I would go down fighting.

"All I ever wanted as a little girl was to read; to go to school and learn about the world like all of the boys my age. Was that so much to ask for?" I said. The crowd quieted, save for a few grumbles here and there, most of them giving me this one final moment to say my peace.

"To the men of Grayson, I beg of you to look at your wives and see their worth. Women are not the inferior sex. On the contrary. Each of you came from a woman, her body and love sustaining you both inside the womb and out. How then, can you grow to despise women so? Did you loathe your own mothers the same way you despise your wives? Without us bearing your children and raising them in the way of the Lord, Grayson as we know it could not exist."

Murmurs echoed through the crowd. Most of the men glared at me, appalled that I would dare suggest women were on the same level as they were. But a handful of men stared at me with furrowed brows, lost in thought as though this was the first they'd heard of the notion.

"Ladies," I continued, gazing upon the women in the crowd. "You can do more than just have children and be obedient to your husbands. Even the Lord has said that a good woman is more precious than jewels. Know your worth. Every powerful man started in the womb of a woman. Without us, they would fail. You have the potential to do amazing things, if ever given the chance. Don't let a man tell you that you can't be great. Together, we can move mountains."

The men started a chorus of boos that resonated through the crowd, but I could have sworn the women stood a little taller. It might have been the first time in their lives that they were made to feel important. No matter what happened next, I considered that a win.

I had so much more I wanted to say, but the official snatched the microphone away before I had the chance, afraid to let me continue. Something had shifted in the atmosphere. It was infinitesimal, hardly noticeable if one wasn't paying close attention, but it was there. My words had inspired women who were once desolate, had given hope to the hopeless. I turned to see Ruby beaming at me, a smile stretched across her face, her eyes full of pride as she gazed at me.

"The prisoners have been given their time to speak," the official continued. "Now it is time for them to hang."

He gestured toward the executioner who took a step toward the level that would remove the floor from our feet, leaving us to hang. I kept my eyes trained on Ruby- her eyes were the last thing I wanted to see before I died. But before our sentence could be carried out, a cry from the crowd made everyone hesitated.

"Wait!" a female voice cried. Murmurs resonated through the square as Emilia Bowen, the pregnant woman from my trial, stepped forward. Her husband gripped at her arm, spitting at her to sit down and be quiet, but she frees her arm from his grasp. She walked to the front of the stage, her eyes trained on mine, filling with tears. "I don't want my baby to grow up in a world like this," she said, turning to face the crowd.

"Quiet, woman!" her husband roared, making his way through the crowd toward her.

She shook her head. "No," she said, trembling with fear, but standing a little taller. "I've been quiet long enough. We all have."

Her husband continued toward her. His face was scarlet, furious that his wife was humiliating him in front of the entire town. By the time he reached her, he was filled with rage. He didn't hesitate to punch her with all of his might, causing Emilia to fall to the ground on her very pregnant stomach. Outraged cries echoed through the crowd as Emilia cried out in pain, gripping her abdomen. Deep red blood stained the middle of her dress.

Dr. Winthrop pushed his way to the front of the crowd and to Emilia's side. He crouched down and examined her, looking up at her husband in revulsion. "What have you done?" he asked gravely.

The man took a step back as though he'd been struck. "I- I-," he stuttered. The crowd began screaming at him in horror. The man tucked tail and ran from the crowd who had turned on him.

Dr. Winthrop helped Emilia onto a stretcher, leading her to the hospital to check on the baby. He hesitated for a moment, tightening his fists nervously, before turning to address the crowd. "Enough is enough," he said, indicating the bleeding woman beside him. "We can do better. We must do better."

"Amen!" a woman called from the crowd, stepping forward.

Another woman stepped toward the stage, avoiding her husband's glare. Then another woman came forward, and another, until dozens of women stood before the stage, inspiration spreading through the crowd like a wildfire. Even some men like my father had stepped forward, begging for change for those they loved.

"What is wrong with you people?" I shrill voice asked. Sister Margaret stared at the protestors with disgust. "Sinners, all of you! You should be ashamed of yourselves!"

"Oh be quiet, Sister Margaret!" I called. She looked at me as though I'd punched her. It was the first time anyone, male or female, had dared to stand up to Sister Margaret. I smiled at her, despite her clear annoyance. If I was going to die anyway, I was going to go out with a bang.

As protestors continued to step forward, a look of panic crossed the face of the government official. "Do it," he murmured to the executioner.

The burly man took a step toward the lever that would lead to our deaths. But before he could open the floor beneath our feet, a kitchen knife whistles through the air, lodging itself in the executioner's hand. He cries out and falls to his knees, holding his bloodied palm in the air. Women in the crowd screamed at the sight of the injury.

Quinn appeared from the woods, followed by dozens of the No Name women we'd recovered from the Factories. The red "X"s on their faces were still visible, but they had shed their black robes and their heads no longer bowed in submission. Each woman was laden with a weapon- irons, hammers, shovels, glass bottles that had been sharpened into small knives, any everyday item that could be fashioned into something that could protect them. It was an army of No Name women.

When the Grayson spectators saw the army, many took a step back, as though being too close to the women would cause them pain. Some even ran from the courtyard, terrified by the sight of so many No Name women at once.

The army made their way through the crowd, the spectators backing away, giving them a wide girth of space, like a modern-day version of Moses parting the Red Sea. Quinn climbed the steps of the stage, rolling her eyes at the executioner who was still screaming about the knife in his hand.

"Oh, relax, you big baby," she muttered. "I could only imagine how you'd react to childbirth. Men, am I right?" she said, winking at me.

"What are you doing here?" Ruby asked in surprise.

"You helped free us," Quinn said, cutting the ropes around Ruby's wrists. "We're here to return the favor."

She pulled a pocketknife from her pocket and cut through the ropes binding my hands. I rubbed my wrists appreciatively. I gave her an appreciative smile, but my grin quickly faded when I saw James leap onto the stage. I opened my mouth to tell Quinn to watch out, but before the words left my mouth, James pushed her from the stage. She fell to the ground, her ankle making a sickening crunching sound.

"Son of a..." she muttered, staggering to her feet.

"Sorry. Did that hurt?" James said with a malicious smile, turning his back to her. He pulled a pistol from his pant line and turned to face me, gently caressing my cheek with his barrel of the gun. I smacked him away.

He tsked and cocked the weapon, pressing the gun against my temple. "Now, now. That isn't very nice."

My heart hammered in my chest, but I refused to let James see my fear. I glared at him, never breaking eye contact, as he pressed the barrel further against my skin.

"I should kill you here and now," he said, stepping forward until our noses touched. "I should pull this trigger and watch you. But that would be too quick and painless," he said, lowering the gun and walking toward the lever for the trap door beneath my feet. He put his hand on the lever and smiled at me ruefully. "No, my dear wife, after everything you've put me through, I want to watch you suffer."

"Go to hell, James," I said through clenched teeth, refusing to be intimidated.

He let out a humorless snort. "I guess I'll see you there."

Then he pulled the lever, causing the floor to drop beneath me and Ruby, leaving my legs dangling. The rope dug into my throat, pricking my skin like needles, cutting off my hair supply. My heart hammered in my neck and my eyes bulged, a combination of terror and the pressure building in my skull. I clutched at the noose, trying unsuccessfully to loosen the knot and break myself free of its ironclad grasp, but the rope refused to give. I gasped for air that wouldn't come, struggling as my vision began to go dark.

I caught a glimpse of James, watching as the life left my body. His eyes were wide and bright, filled with a malevolent sense of joy at seeing me die. While he watched, Quinn hobbled to the stage and pushed him out of the way long enough to cut the ropes that were holding us up. Ruby and I dropped to the ground in heaps. I panted as the rope loosened enough to allow some air into my burning and deprived lungs.

I glanced around, searching for Ruby, finally finding her unconscious on the ground next to me. Her neck was red and bloody from the force of the rope, and her face had a bluish tint.

"Ruby?" I croaked, crawling unsteadily to her side. I gave her shoulders a shake, but she didn't respond. "Ruby?!"

I pressed my fingers against her neck, but there was no pulse.

"No... no..." I muttered.

I pressed my lips against hers, blowing air into her mouth, but there was still no response. I placed my hands over her sternum and pressed down hard time and time again, watching in dismay as Ruby's lifeless body jerked against the ground. I alternated between breaths and compressions for a solid two minutes, trying to resuscitate the love of my life, my heart breaking a little more with each second that passed with no response. For a moment, I feared that she was already gone.

"Please don't leave me!" I begged, tears falling from my cheeks and onto Ruby's face as I pressed against her chest once, twice, again and again, trying to will air into her lungs.

When it seemed as though I was wasting my time, that I should just give up and allow Ruby to move on to the afterlife, her eyes jerked open and she gasped a deep breath of air.

"Mia?" she breathed.

"I'm here!" I sobbed, brushing her auburn hair from her face and kissing her forehead over and over again. "I'm here and I'm okay. We both are," I said, pulling her cheek against my chest, holding her tightly, vowing that I'd never let her go again.