Page 208 of Claiming the Pack's Omega

I've practiced for this. Theo walked me through everything that's going to happen, including the shit that the defense is going to say, the kinds of personal attacks they're going to make. I can do this.

I have to do this.

This is what this has all been for. Testifying here, today, was the whole reason the Graylock Pack took me in, in the first place. I can't let them down. I can make a difference here. I just have to put on my big girl pants and not freak out.

"You ready?" The bailiff asks.

"Yeah," I say. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He nods before opening the doors.

I follow him, trying to ignore the whole room full of eyes on me. I hear the shutter of cameras all around the room. Well, I guess it's good I put as much effort into my looks as I did, if I'm going to be photographed from literally every angle possible.

It makes sense with a case this big that reporters would be present. I just didn't expect this many. When I finally get the courage to actually look around, instead of above everyone's heads, I spot my guys instantly. It's like I knew exactly where they were, drawn to them like a moth to a flame.

Theo sits behind the desk for the prosecution with Andy, the beta from the law firm, seated beside him. He flashes me a reassuring smile and a nod as I make my way to the witness stand. Killian, Milo and Stone sit in the row behind them, each offering me their own nods of support.

I can feel the reassurance all of them are trying to pour through the bond right now and it soothes my racing heart.

I take a seat on the cushioned office chair, wincing slightly when it makes an awkward squeaking noise. The witness stand is placed next to the judge's bench, which is raised far above the height of my head when I'm seated. It makes me feel small and insignificant, especially in combination with some of the nasty looks I'm getting from the defense.

To fight that feeling, I pull my shoulders back and sit straight, despite the ever-so-slightly lopsided seat.

"Good morning," the court clerk says to me as she pushes her tortoise-shell glasses up her nose. "Please state your name for the record."

"My name is Reyna Carver," I say, making sure to speak into the microphone, just like Theo and I practiced.

"Please raise your right hand," she instructs. "Do you, Reyna Carver, promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

"I do," I say, my voice steady. Confident, even.

That confidence seems to immediately ruffle feathers, if the way some of the audience reacts is any indication. Some of the women turn their noses up while the men huff as they shift their position.

It seems people must already think I'm lying.

Too bad for them that their opinion means nothing in this conversation.

I can see the judge out of the corner of my eye. He's an older man, but despite his snow white hair and beard, he still has thesheer size of an alpha who spends a lot of time on his body. There's no hiding the bulk he has under that robe.

That could go one of two ways. He could be the kind of power-hungry alpha who'll take any attempt at changing the systems in place as a threat, or he could see that there are actual systemic issues in place that need changing.

It's my job to make sure he's the latter.

"Prosecution," the judge says, his voice seeming to extend to the furthest corners of the room with minimal effort. Damn, he's louder than me, and he's not even talking into a microphone. "You may begin your direct examination."

"Thank you, your honor," Theo says, standing from his seat. His gaze doesn't drop from mine as he steps closer to me. His smoked cardamom scent hits my nose, calming my frayed nerves like a soothing balm. "Please, Ms. Carver, explain a little about yourself."

And just like we practiced, I start talking. I paint the picture of my life, of my family, of the hardships we faced before I ever mention what I used to do for work. It's strategic, on Theo's part, starting like this.

"My parents had me when they were still in high school, and I have three younger siblings: a fifteen-year-old sister, a twelve-year-old brother, and a ten-year-old sister. My dad is a mechanic, and my mother was a waitress at a diner. They worked ridiculous hours at their jobs, but they still barely earned enough to keep a roof over our heads. They pulled themselves up by their bootstraps harder than anyone I know, and we were barely getting by.So when I was old enough, I stepped up and started working too," I say.

Theo's confidence as he continues to speak to me is obvious, even without the bond. Anyone with eyes would be able to see how comfortable Theo feels in the courtroom. Stone was right, I really don't have to worry about him.

It's me I have to worry about, if the looks of the defense lawyers are any indication.

"And what jobs did you end up working to support your family?" Theo asks.

"I had more than one," I say, wiping my clammy hands on my slacks, grateful that the witness stand can hide those nervous movements. I can't show any weakness, or they'll tear me apart like sharks smelling blood in the water. "One was as a ring girl at an illegal fighting ring and the other was as a sex worker."