Tainted Justice Novels & Stories

“And how has justice been treating you lately, Detective? Suspended. Disgraced. Partner gone. Career in ruins. Is that what justice looks like?” Alex’s jaw tightened. His second card was a seven of diamonds. A pair. He kept his face still. “Justice takes time.” “Time is something you don’t have much of left.” Vincenzo’s third card was a three of clubs. “The people who killed your partner aren’t waiting for justice. They’re grabbing power. Burning evidence. Making sure anyone who gets too close ends up like Marco. Or worse.” The words landed heavy. Alex felt them sink cold into his chest.

They forgot the part of me that had built empires out of blood and silence long before I put on a tie. Back in Detroit, I stood once more before the same window where peace had felt so fragile days ago. But this time, peace wasn’t the goal. Justice was. Nathaniel Blake had taken something sacred, a child’s safety, a woman’s trust and reduced it to leverage. That was his mistake. When I was done, there would not be enough left of his world to rebuild.

“To offer you both something valuable. Before someone else does.” Dorian frowned. “You always speak in riddles.” She pushed away from the wall. “I’ve seen the files. The ones you leaked. The ones you thought would shatter the Court. Clever.” Dorian’s voice turned cold. “I didn’t leak them for cleverness. I leaked them for justice.” “And yet justice,” Emilia murmured, walking past them, “is never blind. She’s bribed.” Isolde stepped into her path. “Why now?”

I once thought that justice was found in a courtroom with a judge and a gavel. However, as I stood in Dominic's private conference room, its walls thick enough to hold secrets that could topple empires, I realized the truth. Justice is often delivered in hushed tones. It manifests in meticulously prepared papers, in shattered admissions, and in the way Olivia Sinclair avoided her husband's gaze while gripping a flash drive containing three decades of deceit. Senator Richard Sinclair—my father—was going down. But he didn’t know it yet.

"There's no question of it." The quiet between them once more became oppressive. Elena rose, moving slowly toward the window, city lights embracing her like a blanket of gold. "I used to dream one day I'd have my justice at last," she said. "But now that I do... it only tastes like ashes." Killian stood back from her, close enough to feel like a wall. "Justice is never clean. Sometimes it's painful." She nodded, wiping away a tear. "He took the evidence. He left it with me. But will that excuse him?"

“I hate liars.” “You didn't steal for noble reasons. You stole from me to gamble, drink, and fuck women. And while you were drunk, you and your friend raped a thirteen-year-old girl and fled.” I widened my mouth in shock. How could they? They deserve to die! The men's faces turned pale, and their mouths opened in shock. “Unfortunately she died,” he said coldly. He turned to me and smirked. “Watch closely, Alzna. This is what happens to those who cross me.”

This time, he had something suspicious on Mr Jimmy Johnson; Jeff's father. "Did you know Jeff was adopted?" Patrick asked Cole. "No... I guess we did not really talk at length," Cole responded. "Don't you think such information is crucial especially with marriage in mind? I am sure Jane isn't aware too," Patrick said and provided information about Jeff's adoption. "Apart from Jeff's adoption, Jimmy Johnson is also not clean. He has past criminal records. He was arrested twice for fraud. He was remanded for a year. His crime on the second arrest was grander but he evaded serving terms as he pulled some strings.

Betrayal, deceit, and murder swirled together in a toxic cocktail, each ingredient fueling his determination for justice. With each new revelation, Thane's resolve hardened. He gathered evidence with meticulous care, building a case that would be impossible to ignore. The documents, witness statements, and circumstantial evidence all pointed to one inescapable conclusion: Raymond and Cecilia were guilty of Catherine's murder. As Thane worked tirelessly to construct his case, the shadows around him seemed to grow longer, as if darkness itself was coalescing into a tangible force. His eyes burned with a fierce intensity, his jaw clenched in a resolute determination. Justice would be served, no

“I didn’t tear apart anything. I did the world a favor. Cleansed it, even, then I took out the ones no one else would touch. You think you understand what I did, but you never really looked. Not hard enough.” I flinched. My hands clenched tighter in my lap, fingernails digging into my skin. I could feel the anger crawling under my skin like wildfire, hot and fast, rushing toward my throat. Bile burned the back of it. But still… I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. Because if I started… I wasn’t sure I could stop. “I took care of the dirt,” he went on, voice rising slightly. “The kind of creatures that ruin this world. Weak ones. Contaminated ones. What I did wasn’t murder… it was justice.”

Execute an order coldly, or be the one who sentenced her without an ounce of remorse? Jonathan's justice was torture; physical, psychological, and inhuman... Stages he had given me in small doses, all gathered in an infinitely higher percentage. He didn't have bruises to give the excuse that he got into a fight. There were no abrasions from a car accident. Nothing that his family could explain when he was left, almost lifeless, and given to his own fate, in front of his father's company. No explanation other than a feud with a person as dangerous as he ever dared to be.