Page 69 of Claiming the Pack’s Omega (Riverwell Omegaverse #2)

Reyna

" H ow do I look?" The question slips out before I can catch it. It's such a stupid, silly question, given the context.

But I can't help it. Old habits die hard, I guess. Especially since I'll be testifying in front of a whole crowd of people.

"You look phenomenal," Stone murmurs, reaching out and squeezing my hand.

I can feel the soft reassurance he's trying to send through the bond, and it calms my frayed nerves.

"You can feel it, huh?" I ask, side eyeing him.

"Your anxiety? Yes, I can," he nods. "There's nothing wrong with feeling anxious. This is a big deal."

"I wish I were allowed in the courtroom outside of just my testimony," I say, slumping forward and onto the large conference table in the room they've stuffed us in.

Well, to be more specific, stuffed me in.

Stone was allowed in here at my insistence.

Apparently, witnesses for such big cases like these aren't allowed to wait with friends or family.

Him being my newly bonded mate and a police officer, even if he's off duty right now, seem to have been enough to convince people, though.

I fight the urge to start spinning in circles.

"Actually, scratch that," I huff. "I don't think I'd wanna be in there because I'd be surrounded by stuffy old geezers. I just want to be there to support Theo."

"That's what Killian and Milo are in the audience for. Theo's been preparing for this for a very long time. Plus, he can handle himself. Especially in the courtroom. You'll see," Stone says, his thumb tracing light circles on the back of my hand.

"I can feel it," I say, reaching up and tracing the bond mark Theo left on the crook of my neck. "He's pretty confident, right now."

I'd heard stories of what having bonded mates would feel like. I think every omega has.

I always thought they were exaggerated. But no, I can feel each of my mates through the bond.

I can't read their thoughts, or anything super crazy like that, but I can feel their presence in the back of my mind. I can also gauge what they're feeling, if I try and seek it out, and they can do the same with me.

It wasn't until my mates bit me that I realized why all the bonded omegas I see often wear off-the-shoulder clothing.

I want to show them off too, but unfortunately, I need to look as professional as possible, given the kinds of things the defense will be throwing at me, so I'm stuck in this button-up blouse for now.

When I'm done with this, though?

Off-the-shoulder tops, all the time, everywhere.

There's a knock at the door to the conference room. A court bailiff opens the door a second later and nods to the two of us.

"It's time, Ms. Carver."

"Thank you," I nod.

I glance over my shoulder at Stone, who offers me a reassuring smile.

"I'll be in the courtroom right next to Milo and Killian. You're not going to be alone, I promise."

My mouth goes dry and I regret not taking one of the styrofoam cups of water that were offered to me when I first sat in here.

"Okay," I say, my voice quiet.

I follow the bailiff down the narrow, windowless hall. The sound of my black pumps clicking against the tile floor echoes in the quiet space.

My hands are clammy as the bailiff stands in front of the door to the courtroom. I wipe them nervously against my slacks.

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 the sheer 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. "

"How did you get into these jobs?"

"I was eighteen, still in high school, when I was almost gang raped as I was going into my first heat," I say softly.

I hear my voice through the overhead speakers, blasting my words to the entire crowd, even though I want nothing more than to take those words back.

I guess it makes sense, that kind of reaction, considering I spent so long not speaking about what happened to me.

Sharing that in front of a crowd of people, especially this kind of crowd, is a hell of a way to start.

I take a breath.

I practiced for this. I can do it. I'm not being asked to perform in front of a crowd of men hungry for my body and what I could give them. I'm being asked to be true to myself, to share my life.

And to be completely honest, that vulnerability is more terrifying than pretending to be something I'm not for the rest of my life.

But pretending won't lead to change. It won't help all the other girls stuck in the Southside clubs because they don't have a scent matched pack ready to sweep them and their families to safety.