The sharp sound of glass striking wood pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance at the bartender and return his fleeting smile.

"Thanks," I murmur.

Staring at the shimmering shot before me, I twirl it between my fingers before downing it in one gulp. My throat still burning from the vodka, I order another. And then another. And yet another.

The swirl of alcohol in my mind slowly pushes aside the theatrical chaos of the trial. Adjourned indefinitely, I found myself drifting here, to the Black Dahlia. With the goal of forgetting, the glasses begin to line up in a dangerous procession, unnoticed.

The pulse of the spirits in my veins matches the rhythm of the music, guiding me toward the dance floor. But before I can reach it, a group intercepts me, bombarding me with questions about my ongoing case. I kindly brush them off, but their insistence quickly turns aggressive. Not pleased with my resistance, they form a blockade, forcing me to turn back. One of them grabs my hand. I try to free myself, but his grip tightens painfully. Unable to break free or reason with him, I knee him in the groin. In pain, he releases his hold, and the group parts just enough for me to slip through.

"You bitch ! You'll pay for this !" his voice, muffled by the music and pain, rings out.

I continue moving until I find myself face down on the floor. I turn over. Through the dim light of the bar, I make out the tall, menacing figure of my assailant. In one swift motion, I jump to my feet and stand before him.

"Go ahead."

He swings a punch, which I easily dodge. Off balance and drunk, his momentum sends him straight into the crowd of dancers, who, knocked off balance, send him crashing to the floor. I join him on the ground a second later, as I hadn't noticed a woman charging toward me.

"My friend may have missed, but I sure won't !"

I block the punch she aims at my face, sending her tumbling to the side. The alcohol turning against me, I'm forced to stay seated, my head spinning like a carousel. I roll to the side as a fiery pain spreads across my cheek, a metallic taste filling my mouth. The girl who had just punched me straddles me again, delivering another blow. The pain momentarily clears the fog, allowing me to retaliate and knock her off me.

Standing face to face, all eyes are now on us like spotlights. We engage in another scuffle until voices and hands pull us apart. Driven by the fight, I struggle, as does my opponent, until we manage to break free and start again.

A firm hand grips me again. I thrash, break free, and turn around, landing a punch on the face of the person holding me. My eyes widen, and I bring my hands to my mouth as I recognize the face.

"Enoro ?" I stammer.

His face tight, his eyes burning with fury, he doesn't have time to speak before I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"May Madini, please come with me."

I tear my gaze away from Enoro's, only to land on Officer Callegrio, who is already escorting me toward his car.

"Can you tell me what happened ?" Eustasio asks, his stern gaze fixed on me through the rearview mirror.

"Didn't you have anything better to do than come pick me up ?" I ask, my tone careless as I switch my gaze between the mirror and his civilian clothes.

"You should be glad it was me who got the call."

I sigh and turn my eyes to the mysterious landscape blurred by the night.

"Is it too much to ask for you to stay out of trouble until the trial is over ?"

"What's the point ? I'm going to lose anyway."

"Why would you say that ?"

"Maglione is going to take me down. I don't know how, but he will. He's definitely in league with Isabella, and this is all part of their plan. I'm done for."

My words thicken the already heavy atmosphere. The silence amplifies the tension that sends my heart into a frenzy of stress. Its erratic rhythm brings tears to my eyes, which fall unchecked. Like a mouse trapped in a cat's jaws, I feel cornered, with only the darkness of prison looming ahead. Despite my lawyer's best efforts, I feel Isabella's hand unraveling the thread of my fate, twisting it to her desires.

"Why would she be involved ? She was with you at the time of the murders."

"Were you at the same trial as me? The killer is a man! He could easily be one of her henchmen. And killing everyone just after Yolanda confided in me, the coincidence is too suspicious."

"There's nothing that puts her at the top of the list."

"Yes, my instinct does."

After several minutes of oppressive silence, Callegrio finally pulls over.

"This isn't my home," I state, scanning the unfamiliar landscape.

"No, it's not. You need to come out."

I sink back into the seat, arms crossed, my expression dark.

"Take me home."

"May, please, follow me. You'll understand soon enough."

With a long sigh, I let my curiosity win.

We step out of the car and head toward the police station, where Eustasio and I had our first exchange. In silence, I follow him through the empty offices until we reach a lit room.

I close the door behind me and freeze. My jaw clenches, and my fists tighten as if they recognize the face they had recently pounded.

"Oh, relax. I'm here as a friend this time."

Despite her words, I remain on guard, keeping a safe distance.

"La Spina. Never thought I'd see you again."

"Yeah, shocked, huh ? But wait, there's more," she says with a sly smile, nodding at Felicci.

Seated across from her, my lawyer smiles at me and gestures for me to sit. Confused by her calmness and wary, I stay standing beside Callegrio, near the one-way mirror.

"She's an ally and a key witness in your case," Felicci finally says.

My furrowed brows seem to speak for me, as the prisoner chimes in.

"I'm gonna save your sarcastic ass, got it ?"

"And by what miracle ?"

"I'll let your fancy lawyer explain. I've gotta get back to my cell," she declares, raising her cuffed wrists.

A knock on the door, followed by its grave opening by a guard, punctuates her words. With the clinking of chains and the rustle of fabric, La Spina passes me by, giving me a wink before disappearing behind the door that closes with a heavy thud.

I turn to my lawyer, my brows still furrowed.

"Since your arrest at the crime scene, I've been working closely with Callegrio. Your brawl in custody was orchestrated. We weren't sure you'd use your fists, but we took the risk. The goal was to get La Spina into solitary confinement without fearing retaliation from the other inmates."

"But to what end ?"

"La Spina was arrested for arms trafficking. She sold the .38 caliber revolver that ended up replacing your Glock. The exchange was done anonymously through a trash can. One person would leave the money, and the other would pick up the weapon. She's well known to law enforcement. Callegrio had a hunch and questioned her. In exchange for a reduced sentence, she had to be honest and help us. Which she did. With this unknown factor in our equation, we had to improvise. That's where solitary comes in. The guard responsible for her surveillance is known for being less than upright."

"I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"In exchange for certain benefits, he agreed to ensure that La Spina remains in strict isolation. He falsifies incident reports to justify keeping her in solitary and prevents her from communicating with other inmates. This way, we can protect her from retaliation and keep her under control without interference. He also facilitates Callegrio's interrogations, making sure she's available when we need her without drawing the attention of other guards."

"Okay, but how does that prove my innocence ?"

"Not directly, but it's the information we've gathered. With La Spina in isolation, her trafficking is at risk. No contact with the other inmates means no intermediaries to maintain her business outside. This has caused tensions to rise, with her associates starting to distrust each other and the network's reliability. All that was needed was a spark to set the whole thing off. A spark that Callegrio cleverly orchestrated."

I shift my attention to him. After La Spina's departure, he had taken her seat at the table. His fingers brushing his mustache, he then clasps them together before speaking.

"I'm certain I handed your weapon over to evidence. The security and surveillance are so tight that there's little room for error. This means the culprit is one of the evidence room handlers. To figure out who, I dropped a few hints during our interrogations with La Spina. I also filed requests for access to her case files. Over time, I noticed that one agent in particular, Maglione, became increasingly nervous and curious about La Spina. When I didn't mention her, he would ask for updates, inquire about the reasons for her interrogations or my research in the archives. When I delivered the final blow by saying she was about to name names, he made the slip we were waiting for."

"What slip ?"

"Maglione was caught accessing the archives without authorization, searching for specific information on La Spina. But the worst part is that he used his personal phone to contact accomplices outside. He left incriminating messages, panicking at the thought that La Spina might reveal his involvement. Security footage and intercepted communications exposed his betrayal. He even tried to convince me to stop the interrogations, citing security concerns. That was the proof we needed to nail him."

"Your evidence was far from being gathered legally," I point out.

"Indeed, that's the risk. We're likely to face objections over admissibility, but we have other avenues," Felicci reveals.

"Such as ?"

"I can't tell you much, so as not to hinder the investigation, but rest assured, we've got your back," my lawyer tries to convince me.

"Trust us, May, you'll be free soon," Eustasio asserts, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity.