Page 5 of A Cobbled Conspiracy
I looked around his pristine apartment one more time, at the temporary refuge that had kept us safe but couldn’t make us whole. In a few hours, either Dominic would be coming back here with us, or we’d be returning without him to plan for a much longer separation.
My omega instincts, which had been screaming warnings all morning, suddenly went quiet. Not calm—quiet. Like the moment before a storm when all the birds stop singing.
I turned back to find Penny and Jake watching me with matching expressions of concern. The scent of my distress—dark chocolate with bitter undertones—had thickened in the air, creating an atmosphere of barely contained anxiety.
“It’s going to be okay,” Penny said softly. “Today, Dominic comes home, and all of this becomes just a really awful memory.”
I wanted to believe him. Five days down. In a few hours, the waiting would either end or stretch into an indefinite future.
CHAPTER TWO
“Steele family?” A court clerk appeared at Blake’s elbow, her voice professionally neutral. “The hearing for Dominic Steele will begin in ten minutes. Courtroom 3B.”
My stomach lurched. Ten minutes until I learned whether my mate would come home or remain locked away for months. The mating mark on my neck throbbed in rhythm with my accelerated heartbeat, and I pressed my fingers against it, trying to ease the persistent ache of my mate's absence.
“You okay?” Penny whispered, his cotton candy scent mixing with the courthouse’s institutional disinfectant. His pink hair was perfectly styled, but I could smell the anxiety underneath his cheerful facade.
“Define okay,” I managed, standing on unsteady legs. The nausea I’d been fighting all morning surged again, and I had to grip the bench for support. Five days of bond separation was wreaking havoc on my body, and the stress of today wasn’t helping.
We passed through security in a blur of metal detectors and stern-faced guards. Courtroom 3B was smaller than I’d expected, with honey-colored wood paneling that might have been comforting in different circumstances. Blake guided us to seats in the gallery, and I found myself studying every detail—the American flag hanging beside the judge’s bench, the court reporter’s machine that would record every word, the prosecutor’s table where stacks of evidence folders waited like accusations made manifest.
“All rise for the Honorable Judge Patterson.”
The judge was a tired-looking alpha in his sixties, his graying hair and weathered face suggesting he’d seen every variation of human disappointment pass through his courtroom. He settled behind the bench with the weary efficiency of someone who’d made too many difficult decisions.
“Be seated. We’re here for the bail hearing in the matter of United States versus Dominic Michael Steele.”
The side door opened, and my heart stopped.
Dominic entered flanked by two deputies, his hands cuffed in front of him and connected to a chain around his waist. The orange jumpsuit was a brutal contrast to his usual tailored suits, making him look younger and more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him. But it was the weight loss that hit me hardest—not dramatic, but enough that the institutional clothing hung loose on his frame.
Our eyes met across the courtroom, and the bond flared to life with such intensity that I had to grip the bench in front of me to keep from crying out. His pine-and-sandalwood scent reached me even across the distance, stronger than it should have been,as if my senses were trying to compensate for the days of separation.
I’ve yearned for you,hisexpression said, steel-gray eyes holding mine for exactly three seconds before court protocol forced him to look forward.
“Your Honor,” the prosecutor began, rising from her table with the confident bearing of someone who held all the cards. “The United States requests that bail be denied for Mr. Steele. The charges against him involve sophisticated corporate espionage with potential national security implications.”
National security? My blood ran cold. Blake had mentioned corporate theft charges, but this sounded far more serious.
“Mr. Steele had access to classified development projects through his position at Vertex Acquisitions,” the prosecutor continued, consulting her notes with theatrical precision. “We have evidence that he systematically copied proprietary information and sold it to competitors, including companies with suspected ties to foreign and domestic organized crime.”
The prosecutor’s words hit like ice water. I felt Blake tense beside me, his alpha scent sharpening with controlled anger.
“Furthermore, Mr. Steele’s wealth and corporate connections make him an extreme flight risk. His company has offices in twelve countries, and he maintains business relationships in non-extradition jurisdictions. Given the severity of these charges and the potential for additional counts as our investigation continues, the state requests that bail be denied.”
The judge nodded, making notes on the papers before him. “Defense?”
Dominic’s attorney—Katherine Morrison, a sharp-faced woman who’d inspired confidence when I’d met her yesterday—rose with practiced grace. “Your Honor, my client maintains his complete innocence of these charges. Mr. Steele has no criminal record and every intention of fighting these accusations in court. He can prove his innocence and that someone has framed him. Additionally, he is newly mated to an omega with strong community ties who requires his alpha’s presence for health and stability. Mr. Steele would never abandon his mate during such a vulnerable time, and omega welfare laws require that separation from a bonded alpha be justified by extreme circumstances. My client’s commitment to his mate and his mate’s wellbeing make flight not only unlikely, but biologically and legally contraindicated.”
I felt a flicker of hope as she spoke, but the prosecutor wasn’t finished.
“Your Honor, if I may,” the prosecutor interrupted, standing again with a folder in her hand. “New evidence has come to light since these charges were filed.”
My stomach dropped like a stone. What new evidence? We knew Brian Collins had fled with stolen money, but Blake's investigator was still tracking his offshore accounts. What else could they possibly have found?
“We’ve discovered additional document theft spanning a longer timeframe than initially believed,” the prosecutor continued. “Furthermore, we have reason to believe Mr. Steele was working with a network of corporate informants. This new evidence is still being processed. The scope of Mr. Steele’s alleged corporate espionage may be far more extensive than initially believed. Releasing him at this time could compromise ongoing investigations and put witnesses at risk.”
The implication hung in the air like poison gas. Was she suggesting Dominic was dangerous? My mate, who fed me protein bars in bed after thoroughly claiming me? The man who’d helped expose corruption in our district?