Page 1 of Throttle

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SIENNA

“Objection!” the prosecutor barks in the middle of my statement. I’m not surprised, as this is the tenth time he’s done so.

“Sustained,” Judge Michaels drones, his pinched expression revealing his struggle to contain his annoyance with these proceedings.

I snap my head in the prosecutor’s direction, my jaw tight while I shoot daggers with my eyes at him.

I’m losing this case. I don’t have any more evidence to secure the upper hand, and they’ve completely backed me into a corner. After using all legal precedents and loopholes I could think of, I’m stuck. I don’t want to sound full of myself, but this has never happened to me before.

I knew taking on this case was going to be difficult, considering my client is Tony Bertelli. His record is far from clean. The man is responsible for killing countless innocents, including women and children, but no one’s ever been able to make the charges stick. That fact alone ensures no one will view him as a man wrongfully accused, but it’s not my job to judge him, at least not publicly.

It is my job to win this case. However, with the way things are going, the odds are not in my favor. I’ve never lost a case before, and if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’m built for this.

Heat burns the side of my face, and I turn to find my client glaring at me with disdain in his eyes. He’s a terrifying man, and I hate to imagine what he would do to me if he weren’t heavily guarded right now.

We continue for a few more hours until I finally wrap up my closing arguments. After all is said and done, we’ve made the best possible case we can before we’re dismissed late for lunch. I nearly jump out of my skin when Judge Michaels slams his gavel down on the podium.

The jury files out as a myriad of thoughts floods my brain. Tony’s two guards come to remove him, bringing him to our private room for debriefing. I know I have to talk to him, but every fiber of my being is telling me to run.

Stand your ground, Sienna. We don’t back down from a challenge.

The quiet voice in the back of my mind belongs to my father, and it brings a steady peace to my jittery nerves. Filling my lungs with stale courtroom air, I slowly exhale and release the tension in my neck before gathering my belongings to exit the room.

No more stalling, Sienna. It’s time to meet with the devil.

The silence is maddening.

Tony Bertelli sits across from me at a long metal table, his hands free from their cuffs. A guard stands outside, just in case anything were to happen, but I’m still unnerved. My client is a ruthless member of a notorious crime family. One guard stationed outside isn’t going to strike fear in the heart of someone like Tony.

I sit up straight in my chair, my face masked from all the emotions spiraling inside. The purpose of this meeting is to prepare my client for the potential outcome of the trial; however, anyone with eyes can see which way the verdict is leaning. Tony will be found guilty and, as such, will remain in custody until sentencing.

I’m in deep shit right now.

A few minutes tick off the clock before an officer brings us food—a tray of sandwiches and a couple of coffees are placed between us on the table. I snag a cup and lift the hot beverage to my lips, not bothering with my lunch. I’m wound so tight I don’t think I can swallow anything solid right now without choking.

Tony hasn’t touched his food yet. He just sits in the worn, wooden chair, silently observing the walls. They’re nothing to look at, some chipped drywall that needs to be patched and repainted. While he’s seemingly distracted, I let my gaze roam over him, still trying to wrap my head around how anyone could hurt people so carelessly as he has.

If I’m honest, he isn’t an unattractive man. But the menacing darkness that’s forever present in his eyes makes people think twice about approaching him. His black hair is ruffled and disheveled, a stark contrast to his perfectly tailored suit. He may be dressed in the finest attire, but everyone knows the truth—he’s nothing but a snake.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

I’m no stranger to men like Tony Bertelli. My whole life, I was raised to defend criminals like him. The part of me that feels guilt or shame for doing this job died years ago. All so I could defend men I know without a doubt should be locked up behind bars.

It was my late father who made me this way. He taught me everything I know. He was one of the best criminal defense attorneys in the state and well-respected by his peers and opponents alike. Dad loved the law and truly believed everyone was innocent until proven guilty. Not once did I ever see him pass judgment against one of his clients. But his crusade to help those who possibly couldn’t help themselves put him in bed with all manner of less-than-savory individuals. And it only got worse the more successful he became. I suppose I should feel honored that a legend such as my father passed his torch on to me. But that isn’t how I feel at all.

And today, I feel like I let my father down. Because I’m losing this case, even with everything Dad taught me. Tony is going to jail for a long time, and by the way he’s glaring at me right now, it’s clear he knows it too.

I tighten my grip on my coffee cup before taking another sip, needing the distraction from my client’s sinister gaze. “Counselor… how do you think the trial is going?” Tony’s raspy, baritone voice finally breaks the silence.

It’s a complete failure.

“There’s still time to?—”

He cuts me off, emphasizing that his question was rhetorical. “When I hired Robert Jones’s daughter to represent me, it was because I heard she was the best of the best—a replica of the greatest defense lawyer to ever grace this town,” Tony says coldly. “Rumor was she could wipe the devil’s slate clean. So what. The fuck. Was that?” His fists clench on the tabletop as he punctuates his words through gritted teeth.

I flinch but quickly recover. Tony grows angrier by the second, and if I don’t calm him down, he might do something to add to the list of charges against him. My gaze trails to the door behind him as I guesstimate how long it would take for the guard to enter… should the worst actually occur.

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