Johnny Sins Leak Novels & Stories

His eyes darted from me to his daughter, who stood right in front of him, now speechless. My disgust was not only for him. It was for what he had done to his daughter that he had sold her like a ledger entry, like a problem to be balanced, such a selfish man. The thought of that, the thought of a father who traded his child to pay for his sins, it was sharper than any blade. It was petty and cowardly. “Mafia collects what is owed,” I said. “If one of ours is taken, we collect in full. The rules are simple. Blood for blood. Debt for debt. You chose your path years ago, Damon. You must live with what you planted.”

I growled. He batted his eye lashes, bringing a finger up to tap his chin in mocking thought. "Well... I heard it from Ross, who heard it from Ashton, that was told by Joslin Soroyen, that had heard it from Corbett, who was messing around with Donalds by coach's office when they heard him talking to Mr. Johannes about you!" He sounded so incredibly stupid, like a girl gossiping on one of those 90s teenage high school movies. It was rediculous, but part of me was starting to believe the asshole next to me.

“Yeah… I did. Thank you.” “Anything for you,” he said. The way he was looking at me... that did something to me. Neither of us moved and neither of us stepped back either. My eyes dropped to his lips for a split second. Then back to his eyes and that was all it took. I leaned in first, It wasn’t planned, I didn't think it through. It just… happened. Our lips met, soft, slow. Then I realized who I was kissing, Mac, my stepdad 😭😭. I quickly pulled myself out.

Valenti asked, his voice shaking. "I have the handshake logs," I said, my voice growing colder, more analytical. "The data was leaked through a burner phone registered to a shell company in the Cayman Islands. A company that, according to the transaction history I’ve spent the last three hours unmasking, is funded by a secondary account belonging to... well, shall I say it, Don Moretti? Or should I just show everyone the photos of your meetings in the Cicero warehouse?" Moretti surged to his feet, his face turning a mottled purple. "She’s lying! She’s a thief! She’s trying to sow discord to save her own skin!"

"I'm craving a double bacon burger and cheddar cheese fries." "Amen, sister," he says, raising his hands in the air, "so that's two burgers, two servings of fries and two milkshakes, mine triple chocolate, and your cookies and cream?" "Oh no, Ale, that would be too much." "Oh please, Chris! If we're going to sin, we do it right, or we don't do it." "All right, but you're going to the gym with me. This slip-up is going to cost me hours in there."

Or Sinclair. Holy shit.

Johnny chose to stay in Los Angeles to start working on the album. Standing in the hotel lobby, I asked him, “Do you have a place to stay?” Camilla answered for him. “I have a place he can stay. It’s quiet.” “Johnny,” I said, frowning. “Take off those goddamn glasses and look at me.” He did so. He looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept in weeks. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was on something. Heroin, maybe, or some other kind of opiate, but if I knew anything about my friend it’s that he didn’t touch any of that shit. That’s one thing the media got wrong about us after what happened. Drugs had nothing to do with it. I want to set that record straight here and now.

"Son, I don't think referring to yourself as the devil is anything any Christian would want to do." I turned to face him, hating him already. Then reached out my hand for a handshake. "Father Reed, it's a pleasure to meet you." "And you're—?" Father Reed trailed off as he waited for my reply. "Damien Raeken." I clenched my fist, letting my gaze roam his appearance. "You did mention that God forgives all who sins. So…you mean, God would forgive every sinner who confesses their sins?" "Yes," he replied solemnly, but I wasn't sure that meant he agreed.

Behind him was Eros, looking as bored as ever, his gaze wandering the room while he spun his car keys between his fingers. At last! Johnny gave me space and stood from the bed. He shot me a look that screamed this conversation isn’t over before striding out of the room. “Give me the good news,” he said to Franklin, voice hard and commanding—like a whole different man from his usual flirtatious self. He sounded so powerful and manly. “According to her blood test, they found some synthetic designer drug—” Franklin’s voice faded when Johnny closed the door. I exhaled deeply and shut my eyes. The world tilted, and I sank deeper into the bed like it might just swallow me whole.

Then the screen went black. And the room was silent. Until John finally said, “It’s all here.” They didn’t rush. For once, they moved with cold precision. John forwarded the files to four people—his lawyer, two investigative journalists, and an old friend at the Financial Crimes Commission. He knew leaking wasn’t enough. It had to be legal. Permanent. May printed every page, spreading them across their dining table like war maps. She’d always wondered how women like Lena lost their voices. Now she saw it clearly: They weren’t weak. The system was just louder.