He glances at each of us, making sure the words sink in.
“This first hearing isn’t the trial—no witnesses, no exhibits. Just a judge deciding whether you stay in custody and whether the prosecution has enough to keep pushing.”
He taps the stack of papers in his hands. “The prosecutor keeps hinting at ‘digital evidence’ and ‘confidential statements,’but none of it has been presented. No one has testified. Nothing’s been authenticated. It’s smoke for now — meant to rattle you.”
“And just so we’re clear,” he adds, “bail hearings in federal weapons cases almost never go your way. The judge will look at the charges, your ties to the club, and the supposed risk factors, and she’ll deny release. Expect it. Don’t let it blindside you.”
“They’ll push as hard as they can, hoping you’ll act out, lose your temper, or talk when you shouldn’t. Don’t give them the satisfaction. Let me do my job. The more you keep your cool, the more they show their hand.”
Jace draws a slow breath, nodding. Levi stares at the floor, rage simmering but checked for now. Decker’s voice drops even lower, almost gentle. “We’ll get through this, but you have to trust me—and each other. That’s the only way we fight this.”
He runs a hand through his hair, hesitating before speaking again. “There’s something else I need to ask. I met the girl—Carrie. She came across as sincere enough, but I’ll be honest, the timing of her breakup with Jinn is…a little too convenient.”
Jace frowns. “What are you saying, Decker?”
He looks each of us in the eye. “She was Jinn’s girlfriend for nearly a year. Then suddenly, the day before the raid, they break up? That’s a detail the feds aren’t ignoring. Feels too on the nose, don’t you think?”
I feel Levi’s gaze flick to me, then to Jace. None of us say a word. The silence stretches, thick with what we’re not saying.
“She was asking about you three,” Decker adds. “She wanted to know if you were all right. You’re not…involved with her, are you? Because if you are, you need to tell me now.”
Jace looks at the floor. Levi’s face gives nothing away. I keep my eyes on the wall, jaw tight. None of us answer, and Decker notices.
He shakes his head, sighs. “Look, I’m not judging. I just need to know if there’s anything else I should be worried about. Anything you haven’t told me that could hurt your case.”
A strange silence settles in the cell as Decker’s words linger. I find myself replaying every moment from that night, the way Carrie touched each of us, the looks she gave, how quickly the tension in the room shifted from anger and hurt to something wild and intimate. I remember the way she pulled me in, how she reached for Levi, the way Jace’s face changed when she turned to him. It all felt real—raw, even—but now Decker’s suspicions crawl under my skin, twisting everything out of shape.
Did she mean to sleep with us?
Did Jinn put her up to it? Was it a distraction, timed so perfectly we didn’t see what else was coming? My stomach churns, the memory of her hands and mouth suddenly tasting bitter. She’s always been unpredictable, but is she really capable of this kind of setup?
The longer I turn it over, the less certain I feel. Part of me wants to fight for her, to say she’s just as much a victim as any of us. But another voice in my head whispers that maybe we were played, and I’m left staring at the wall, wondering how much of that night was the truth, and how much was just another move in someone else’s game.
After Decker leaves, the cell goes quiet. We don’t look at each other for a moment, each of us caught up in our own doubts.
The weight of suspicion hangs between us, heavy and uncomfortable.
“She wouldn’t,” Levi finally says, breaking the silence, his voice low and certain. “Carrie wouldn’t set us up.”
I want to believe him, but the words don’t come easy. “Wouldn’t she?” I mutter, doubt threading through me in a way I can’t ignore. Every memory feels different now. “You saw howeverything happened. The timing, the way she came to us—maybe Decker’s right. Maybe it was a distraction.”
Jace just shakes his head, but before any of us can say more, heavy footsteps echo in the hall. The cell door swings open and Rodriguez stands there, a smug look on his face, badge gleaming.
“Let’s go, gentlemen,” he says, drawing out the word just a little too long.
I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to tell him what I really think. Rodriguez always acts like he’s king of the station. I can feel my dislike for him growing with every second.
We fall in line, the conversation unfinished, every step out of the cell making me feel less sure about everything—about Carrie, about Jinn, about who I can trust. But there’s no time left to wonder. The world is moving on without us, and we have no choice but to keep up.
They separate us for the arraignment, leading each of us down narrow hallways, one at a time, as if we’re already dangerous on our own. My stomach knots as I wait my turn, the stale courthouse air sticking in my throat. When they call my name, I walk into a room full of strangers—faces bored or stern, the judge high on the bench, a federal prosecutor already leafing through a stack of paperwork.
Wilson’s face is unreadable as he stands up to present his arguments. I clench my fists so tight that my knuckles turn white.
When they call my name, I rise and answer their questions. “Not guilty,” I say, voice steady, even though my hands are clenched behind my back.
The judge listens, glancing at the files stacked in front of her, the words “federal indictment,” “conspiracy,” and “firearms trafficking” printed in bold. She reads the prosecutor’s statement and barely even pauses.
“Bail is denied,” she announces, her tone final. “Flight risk, public safety concerns, and documented ties to a criminal organization. The defendants will remain in federal custody until trial.”
