“Gi…” Blood bubbled into my mouth. “Why?”
She tilted her head, smiling as tears burned my eyes.
“I’m tired of you. You have to go,” she said, and the words completely shattered me.
I stared at her, trying to force my brain to reject what I was seeing.
My best friend. My sister. The person I loved most besides Booda.
She did this.
She killed him.
A sob tore out of me.
“I hate—” I cried. “I hate you, bitch,” I managed to get out right as Giani lifted her gun.
“I’m sorry, Ko… syke!”
She fired, all color and light extinguished, like someone had thrown a thick blanket over the world, smothering everything in darkness and numbness.
CHAPTER 21
One year later…
The courtroom was warmer than I expected. Bodies filled nearly every bench, and the low hum of whispers never fully disappeared, no matter how many times the bailiff told people to be quiet.
The chains connecting my wrists to the bolt beneath the table were only long enough for me to rest my hands in my lap if I kept my elbows in. Sweat gathered at the back of my neck where my hair had been pinned up, and I shifted in my seat without thinking. The chains caught, and the sound moved through the room before I could stop it.
A few heads turned, but I kept my eyes forward, refusing to look at the gallery behind me, though I could feel the weight of stares.
Booda’s family filled at least three rows on the left side of the courtroom. They were there for Mrs. Mary, and Mrs. Mary was there for me.
My lawyer, Falyn Franklin, leaned close without looking at me. “Keep your expression neutral.”
Ms. Franklin was beautiful enough to distract a room if she wanted to. Smooth brown skin, sharp eyes, and long black hair gave her the kind of presence people noticed immediately, but it was her mouth that made them nervous. She was one of the youngest attorneys in the country, and from the way older lawyers reacted to her, you would’ve thought she personally offended them by becoming successful before thirty.
She was a young shark in the courtroom. This was her first trial as lead attorney, but she carried herself as if she had years of experience. I trusted her completely. And I didn’t trust many people.
I stared ahead and said nothing.
Reporters packed the back rows beside strangers who came just to watch the woman who killed her best friend in broad daylight. Some people looked curious. Others looked disgusted. A few just looked excited to witness something tragic up close.
The prosecutor stood near the witness stand, a legal pad in hand, while a young woman nervously wrung her shirt.
I recognized her immediately from the diner. Her friend had been the one staring at me that day.
“She threatened your friend?” the prosecutor asked.
“Yes.” The woman nodded quickly. “Me and my homegirl were eating when she walked over to our table and threatened us.”
“Do you know why she approached you two?”
“Yes.” The woman swallowed nervously. “Because she thought we were looking at her boyfriend.”
My stomach twisted.
The prosecutor glanced at the jury briefly before returning his attention to the witness. “And were you?”
