Page 161 of Pack Frenzy
I plug in a flash drive from my pocket—plain black, no label—and start copying everything that isn’t nailed down. Audit logs. Transfer approvals. The half-loaded photo of Sabrina.
I add the cruise footage, too—the one Cassian pulled from that news forum, timestamped the same week she vanished.
It’s not much, but it’s a start.
When I hand this over, I want it airtight. And I’m not doing it alone. Jess deserves to see the truth. So do the others.
If Nexus wants to pretend ghosts don’t exist, they’re about to get haunted.
It took damn near two months for the prosecution to pull everything together—witness lists, surveillance, the forensics from the cruise. Every update felt like a step closer to justice for Jess… and a step closer to a deadline none of us wanted to think about.
After that, waiting for the trial became its own form of hell. Weeks of paperwork, interviews, late-night calls from detectives, all of us pretending we were fine while life kept moving like nothing had blown apart.
Only reason the court date came as fast as it did was because Blake’s father pushed for it—figuring a shorter runway would give the prosecution less time to bury them. Man underestimated just how bad the evidence already was.
CHAPTER 39
JESS
Weeks of detectives, lawyers, statements, and every nightmare dragged into the light.
And now?
Five days of lawyers talking about my sister like she’s evidence instead of a person. Five days of watching Blake Callighan sit three tables away in his designer suit, face blank, like none of this touches him.
Everyone was shocked we were able to go to court so soon. But Garcia’s team had already been working this case long before I ever landed in Nexus intake. He’d been digging into the Omega disappearances for months—Sabrina included—and Blake’s father tried to fast-track the court dates, probably thinking speed would keep the cracks from showing. Instead, it just shoved everything into the open at once.
So far, Callighan’s lawyers have been steamrolling over the evidence.
But today feels different.
The air feels wrong—charged, waiting. Even the reporters crammed into the back rows have gone quiet, pens poised, waiting.
I sit in the front row between my parents. Mom’s on my left, hands folded in her lap—steady for the first time in years. She hasn’t had a drink since the detective called. Since they said they might finally know what happened to Sabrina. Her face is drawn, older, but her eyes are clear.
Dad’s on my right with his jaw locked in that way that means he’s holding everything in, the same look he wore when we were told Sabrina was missing.
Behind me, Rowan, Cassian, and Eli take up the whole row.
Rowan’s steady—still as stone, like he’s anchoring all of us. Cassian looks calm, but I know that’s his version of locked and loaded. Eli’s knee won’t stop bouncing. He’s the one who cracked Nexus open and dragged the rot into daylight.
My guys. My proof I’m not facing this alone.
Delgado runs through the morning recap for the jury—evidence already entered, testimony from the cruise line, the bracelet, the witnesses. The same bracelet I helped Dad and Mom design for her, found in the ship’s lost and found seven years later, tagged and forgotten until someone finally bothered to look.
Crew and passengers recognized Sabrina’s photo. Said she’d been smiling, tan, with a drink in her hand—and that Blake was never far from her side.
“Your Honor,” Delgado says, rising smoothly, "the State recalls Detective Marcus Garcia."
Garcia’s older, gray at the temples, with the kind of face that’s seen too much and doesn’t flinch anymore. He takes the oath, settles in, opens his folder.
“Detective,” Delgado says, “tell us what you found in your investigation of Sabrina Mancini’s disappearance.”
Garcia’s voice is steady. “We contacted the cruise line and obtained access to their lost-and-found inventory. Among theitems recovered was a custom bracelet—crescent moon and stars. The family confirmed it belonged to Ms. Mancini.”
My throat tightens. That bracelet. Sabrina wore it everywhere.
“We also interviewed crew members and passengers from that voyage,” Garcia continues. “After showing them Ms. Mancini’s photograph, multiple witnesses confirmed she was onboard—and several recalled seeing her repeatedly with the defendant. Meredith Walker’s death was nearly a decade ago—eight, maybe nine years. Long before Sabrina vanished. Long before Nexus pretended nothing was wrong.”
