Chapter 10 BLADE
BLADE
They finally let me out of the interrogation room, the bright lights burning behind my eyelids as I shuffle down the hallway.
My wrists are raw from the cuffs and my whole body aches from sitting too long in a chair that felt like punishment.
I haven’t slept. My mouth tastes like old metal, and the coffee they gave me at the station was so bad it barely cut through the fog in my head.
A tired-looking deputy leads me through a maze of worn linoleum hallways, his keys rattling with every step. He pushes open a battered steel door and waves me inside. Levi and Jace are already in there.
The second they look up, I can feel my anger rising all over again. I want to break something. I want to break him. “If I ever get my hands on Jinn,” I mutter, pacing the length between our bunk beds, “I swear to God, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”
The rage won’t leave me. I can’t just wait around. I’ve never been the one to stand still, not since I was a kid.
It’s always been this way. When Levi and I were growing up, there were nights the old man would stumble home, stink of cheap whiskey thick in the air.
He’d find any excuse to raise a hand, but I was the first to swing back.
I remember Levi grabbing my arm, hissing at me to keep my head down, but I wouldn’t.
I took a beating for it, but I’d do it again.
That night, when blood ran from my nose and my knuckles were split, I told Levi I was done.
He didn’t argue. We left that night, no plan except freedom, just two bruised kids under a broken streetlight.
I thought the club was finally finding a place where all that anger, all that loyalty, meant something. Jinn gave me a home, a brotherhood, something to hold on to in the dark. I gave him everything—my fists, my trust, my word.
Now all I feel is betrayal, sharp and cold as the cuffs digging into my skin. I want to hurt him like he hurt us. I want to make him pay for every lie, every time he called me family and left me with nothing but broken promises and blood in my mouth.
I know I need to stay calm, for Levi and Jace. We need to survive this. But my rage is a living thing. It sits behind my eyes, restless, already counting down the days until I can look Jinn in the face and settle the debt for good.
William Decker arrives to talk to the three of us, tells us things aren’t looking good.
“The indictment lists three counts: federal firearms trafficking, conspiracy to distribute illegal weapons, and possession of unregistered automatic firearms. The feds are also hinting at an ‘organized crime enhancement,’ which is bullshit but dangerous if it sticks. But right now, a lot of it is noise—an implied threat. They want to scare you, push you to make mistakes, maybe even get one of you to turn on the others. It’s an old play. ”
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 how everything 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.”
A murmur goes through the courtroom. My chest goes hollow, but I keep my chin up as they lead me away. I don’t get a glimpse of the others. But I don’t doubt that they’ve also suffered similar fates.
It’s over in minutes. No witnesses take the stand, no jury box, no cross-exams—just a judge reading from a stack of paper while some fed talks about “risk factors” and “organized crime ties.” They don’t have to prove anything today. All they have to do is keep us caged while they build their case.
We shuffle through the back hallway, shackled at the wrists and ankles, the clatter of chains echoing off the bare tile.
The air smells like floor polish and cold sweat.
In the loading bay, white fluorescent lights make everything look flat and unreal.
There’s a line of marked vans outside, their doors yawning open like hungry mouths.
We’re herded together at last, deputies watching us like hawks. For a moment, it almost feels normal, the three of us standing side by side. Jace leans in just enough so only we can hear. “Any idea where we’re going?”
Before anyone can answer, Rodriguez steps into view. His boots hit the pavement with that deliberate, arrogant stride I’ve come to know too well. He stands at the base of the ramp, hands folded behind his back, savoring the moment.
“You gentlemen will be guests of Northwood Federal Correctional,” Rodriguez announces, his words echoing around the open yard. “You’re going away for a long time. Get comfortable.”
Levi says nothing, just stares straight ahead. I lift my head and glare. “We haven’t even had our trial yet. You’ve got no real proof, nothing but speculation and a bad story.”
Rodriguez just laughs, stepping closer so his breath nearly touches my cheek. “We’ll see about that, tough guy.”
He slams the van doors shut with a hollow, echoing crash. Darkness settles over us as the lock clicks in place. The only sound is our chains rattling as the truck lurches forward, carrying us away from everything we’ve ever known.