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Chapter 1
Dax
Three years earlier
“Mr.DaxAnthonySilver,on the count of grievous bodily harm with intent, how do you plead?”
“Not guilty, Your Honor,” I grind out. A stabbing pain shoots up my jaw as I clench my teeth.
I drag in a deep breath as thevictimscoffs from his position across the courtroom. I meet his eyes with a glare that could penetrate bulletproof glass.
I should have killed him. Finished the job when I had my hands around his throat.
The corners of my lips twitch as I recall the softness of his skin beneath my fists that night. The sound his ribs made when they cracked. Like snapping the wishbone after a roast chicken supper that Mom would cook.
Shame, those wishes never came true.
I fight the urge to adjust my collar in the stifling heat of the courtroom. Her Majesty’s finest building for justice and they couldn’t even fix the damn air conditioning.
A bead of sweat rolls down the back of my neck, but I ignore it. Any movement, any show of weakness, andhewill think it’s guilt over what happened between him and I.
Guilt or fear.
And I feel neither.
I don’t feel guilt. The bastard deserved it, and a whole lot more.
And fear? I tear my gaze away from the man in the suit staring at me like something he stepped in, then look over at my sister, Jasmin, and give her a small nod as she stares back at me with wide eyes.
No, not fear... but regret maybe.
Regret, in case this sadistic fucker gets his way and sends me down for something he had coming, she will be alone. Something I promised her she would never be.
My friend, Logan, reaches for her and takes her hand, squeezing it, but her eyes never leave mine as she draws in a breath that makes her shoulders shake.
Not guilty, Your Honor. Not fucking guilty.
“Members of the jury, have you reached your verdict?” the female judge asks. And despite the courtroom being quiet before, a new level of silence descends as the entire room seems to hold its breath. Only the ticking of the clock on the wall can be heard. Each strike sounds like a missile counting down to my fate.
“We have, Your Honor,” the appointed speaker of the jury answers—an oily-looking businessman with more money than style. Jury picking by the prosecution, is an obvious tactic. Choose people of the same age, sex, and race as the person I’m accused of harming. And similar social standing in the community, judging from the speaker’s smug self-important expression plastered over his face as he flashes me a look of disdain.
Get more sympathy from jury members. Let them relate to the victim.
I wonder if this jerk has a tidy little side business supplying coke to minors. Oh, and sending fucking dick pics to my sister.
I turn my attention back to the reason we are all here today—Julian Young, owner of Mason’s, the UK’s biggest overseas spirits import company. Business rival, drug dealer, and all-round asshole.
He purses his lips as he stares at me, his hair slicked back, graying at the sides and around his collar.
I never liked him, even before he put his disgusting, filthy, leery eyes on my sister, and then violated her privacy by sending her those messages. He isn’t worthy of breathing the same air as her.
I remember the way his hand landed too low on her back the night of that business dinner as he whispered something in her ear. It made contempt slither over my skin like a swarm of starved locusts. Maybe I should have ignored the comment he made about her, about how it was a shame she was my sister as he bet I would love to fuck anass like that. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone postal on him. After all, it resulted in me being restrained by five security guards in front of half of Southeast England’s most influential businesspeople.
OrmaybeI should have broken the other two ribs that escaped my wrath. And smashed his nose to the backside of his head instead of fracturing it. Maybe I should have done that.
The clock continues to tick. He leans in his chair and whispers something to his lawyer as he holds my eyes.
Sly bastard.He’s wanted me out of the way since our company outperformed his at last year’s industry awards. Slippery fucker tried to get me done for attempted murder, until the charge was reduced to a lesser one.
