Page 142 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

SAVAGE LIAR

CHAPTER1

JAELYN

THREE YEARS EARLIER

“Not guilty.”

The words assault my ears and my heart, roaring over and over between my temples as the courtroom melee ensues. A collective, loud gasp follows the verdict, drowned out by a sea of shocked voices humming around me. Camera flashes snap left and right, temporarily blinding me as I jump up from the bench, craning my neck to see those two greasy bastards in their matching orange jumpsuits. They’re the now-free men who shattered my world and now, thanks to the incompetence of the fucking asshole lawyer who was prosecuting my parents’ case, get to walk away scot-free. I swallow down the scream bubbling in my chest, clenching my fists so tight, my fingernails might draw blood. Red floods my vision, my chest heaving as sharp breaths slice at my lungs.

My older brother Nate grabs my hand, standing up next to me and pulling me into his chest as tears sting my eyes. Every part of my body quivers and chatters, not from the cold but from the anger and regret that now clouds my life.

He tilts my chin up, staring into my eyes. His jaw twitches but his expression is impassive, as usual. It’s very rare for him to freely give away his feelings, but the jaw twitch is his big tell. I know he’s just as devastated as I am right now. He’s just much better at hiding his emotions. Nobody but me ever knows what he’s thinking.

Or plotting, for that matter.

But me?

I give it all away — my face, my body language, my voice. They tell all. There are never any questions about how I feel. I obviously suck at poker, and I let my emotions rage like wildfire.

Nate and I are the exact opposite in that regard.

But today I can see him falter. His carefully crafted exterior has a few hairline cracks that are rapidly spreading, threatening to expose what festers deep within his fortress.

Just for once, I’d like to see it crumble around him, exposing what I know is behind those walls.

Just for once, I want to see him shed his thick skin and grieve with me.

And by grieve, I, of course, mean kill.

Nate holds me tight against him as we sidestep spectators who are still marveling over the fact that the prosecutor couldn’t get a conviction, and how one of the key pieces of evidence mysteriously went missing before the verdict was delivered.

Yeah, I wonder the same thing.

But when you go to battle with one of the biggest drug cartels in the world, be prepared to play the game according to their rules.

Everybody eventually bends.

Except my father, which is why we’re standing here while all hope for justice dissipates into the air.

A knot in my stomach twists and tightens, my pulse throbbing against my neck as I catch a glimpse of the bailiff unlocking the handcuffs on the two men who destroyed my world. Brothers. Desi and Derek Bowman. Two mules for the Becerra Cartel out of Mexico. But they don’t only run drugs. They also gun down anyone who doesn’t share the same loyalty to the cartel that they do…basically, anyone who gets in their way of making a shit ton of money. I narrow my eyes at them. They’re laughing, giving each other high fives and clapping their shady ass lawyer, Marlon Thomas, on the back.

He’s the seediest of the seedy and expensive as hell. His only client is the Becerra Cartel and they keep him plenty busy from what I hear and read. If it wasn’t for the deep pockets of the cartel and their partnership with the rival motorcycle club that the Bowman idiots belong to, they’d be behind bars before another second had the chance to slip on by.

I grip the top of the bench with both hands, stopping without warning, my heart beating out of control. White spots blast in front of my eyes and I sink back down onto the seat, my knees quaking. Nate sits next to me, cupping my chin in his large hand. “Jae, are you okay?”

I can hear his voice, but it’s muffled, like it’s coming through a thick fog. My knuckles turn white from the tight grip I have on the bench and blood rushes between my temples, the pounding intensifying as the Bowman brothers get closer and closer to the double doors of the courtroom.

Closer to freedom.

They get a second chance.

Unlike my parents.

Guilt hangs over my head like a dark, ominous cloud, hovering low like a menacing threat.

It should have been me.

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