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 the items 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. ”
Blake’s attorney bolts to his feet. “Objection! The prosecution is attempting to revisit an incident my client was already cleared of. Prior bad-act evidence is inadmissible and grossly prejudicial.”
The judge barely glances up. “Overruled. The testimony is being offered solely to establish pattern, opportunity, and motive relevant to the current charges. The jury will consider it for that limited purpose only.”
The jurors shift—some leaning forward, some paling. They know Meredith’s name. Everyone does. And now they’re hearing it tied to Sabrina.
Garcia continues, “We executed search warrants on Nexus Solutions and the Callighan properties. What we found was a pattern.”
The room stills.
“A Nexus security guard, Vincent Torrance, had been working with Mr. Callighan for years. His job was to identify vulnerable Omegas—those without strong family support or legal recourse. He arranged ‘accidents’ that left them isolated.”
Garcia pauses to shuffle a few papers. “We also interviewed two additional Nexus security officers who responded to the transport crash. One of them, a Mr. Harlan, is here today.”
An older man stands from the second row, weathered face, Nexus pin still on his lapel. He gives the judge a short nod, then glances toward me. There's something in his expression: apology, maybe. Or recognition that he'd been part of a system that almost swallowed me whole.
Garcia continues, “According to their statements, the crash triggered an automatic alert to Nexus HQ. Harlan and Reynolds were rerouted to assist before the local authorities arrived. When they reached the scene, they found Ms. Mancini unconscious and Officer Torrance already on site. Torrance claimed he was following extraction protocol. They transported her to Nexus.”
Garcia glances at his notes. “Internal logs also show that instead of waiting for authorized medical personnel, Officer Torrance administered a suppressant injection on scene.”
A ripple of sound moves through the courtroom, and several jurors shift in their seats at that—one of them leaning forward like he can’t believe he just heard that right. Another juror covers her mouth.
“This is highly irregular,” Garcia continues.
“Only Nexus medical staff are permitted to administer suppressant doses—both for safety and for dosage accuracy. Torrance’s report listed it as standard protocol, but the vial number he used wasn’t logged in Nexus inventory.
It was a private stock, provided off-record. ”
My pulse stumbles. He was going to take me to Blake. That’s why he tasered me, he wanted me unconscious so no one would know. Bile rises in my throat and I swallow hard, fighting nausea.
Nine years ago, he killed Meredith. Seven years ago, he took Sabrina. And now, this year, he came for me. Same pattern. Same man. Same system that kept him protected.
And that shot—God. It explains the wrongness humming under my skin those first nights.
The heat came too soon. No wonder my body felt wrong from day one.
Because it wasn’t a Nexus dose at all. Torrance drugged me with whatever Blake wanted in my veins and probably only long enough until he could get approval to take me out of Nexus. Just like Sabrina.
“Subsequent investigation shows Torrance falsified his report to conceal communications with the defendant,” Garcia says.
“The suppressant Torrance administered,” Garcia adds, “was later tested. It contained a diluted formula that’s used in illegal transfers because it gives handlers a shorter window before the Omega cycles again.
He intended to take Ms. Mancini to an off-site holding facility under Mr. Callighan’s direction.
The emergency response disrupted the transfer, so Torrance administered a diluted dose—fast-acting, short-lived.
Exactly the kind preferred when an Omega’s heat is meant to be used, not delayed. ”
Across the aisle, two of Blake’s attorneys lean in fast, whispering in sharp, frantic bursts. One taps a pen against his notepad like he’s trying to erase the last ten seconds. Even they didn’t expect that bomb to drop.
“Objection,” one of Blake’s lawyer’s yells.
“Overruled.” The judge motions to Garcia and he hands over a piece of paper that I’m sure has the details of what they pumped into me.
“Your Honor, these communications were recovered only after we obtained a court order for the full server logs,” Garcia says.
“Mr. Mercado’s analysis flagged multiple irregularities—scrubbed timestamps, encrypted partitions, and missing intake records tied specifically to Ms. Mancini and another Omega, her sister.
He could not access the restricted files themselves, but his findings indicated deliberate tampering. ”
Garcia looks toward Eli. “Those anomalies gave us probable cause to pursue a full forensic warrant. Once granted, the recovered logs revealed Torrance coordinating directly with the defendant regarding Ms. Mancini’s ‘extraction window.’”
I look toward the older guard. He meets my eyes for a heartbeat and gives a slight nod, small, almost apologetic, before sitting back down.
My throat tightens. One minute of timing, one alert, one man doing his job right, and I’m still here.
“How many Omegas?” Delgado asks.
“We’ve confirmed at least nine,” Garcia says. “Over seven years. Roughly one every few months. Each disappearance was filed as a voluntary transfer. The records were scrubbed.”
Nine. Not counting Meredith and any other Omegas or females he might have snatched. My heart is heavy with all those innocent women.
The jurors’ faces tighten, some of them staring down at the table like they’re trying to swallow what nine really means.
“And Nexus’s role?” Delgado asks.
“Three council members accepted bribes from Blake Callighan’s father to suppress complaints. The payments ranged from fifty thousand to half a million dollars.”
Gasps ripple through the room. The judge bangs her gavel for silence.
Three rows back, Blake’s father’s jaw snaps tight. His fingers curl on the armrest, knuckles whitening—not outrage at the crime, but at being exposed. For the first time all trial, he looks rattled. But Blake moves—barely—a flinch, a twitch of his jaw.
Delgado clicks to a slide on the screen. “Detective, confirm these transfers.”
Garcia nods. “We just got confirmation. Each payment corresponds to a missing Omega or an assault complaint involving Mr. Callighan.”
Mom’s hand slides into mine, trembling. I squeeze back and give her a small smile. She holds on like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
“And the attack on Jessica Mancini?” Delgado asks.